Hold my (zero proof) beer ... meet the new generation of booze-free blokes

Now that it’s over, I’m officially calling it – this was the summer when Aussies finally ordered last drinks on our toxic drinking culture. Big call? Maybe. But (as the kids would say) there’s definitely been a “vibe shift”.

Mine was a typical Millennial summer, chock-full of Christmas parties, lawn bowls, beer gardens and sunset happy hours. The Aperols were ice-cold, and the extra-warm nights reminded me why I love this sunburnt country.

Younger men are increasingly drinking zero-strength beer.

But this summer, my offers of pale ales or whisky over ice were increasingly met with a casual, “Nah mate, brought my own zeros!” – at least from the gents. My girlfriends would casually mention their previously booze-loving blokes hadn’t touched a drop in months. “Says he’s never felt better,” they’d add with a shrug. At a first birthday do at the local, I walked past two dads bonding over the benefits of sober life as they chased down their toddlers. And these aren’t lifelong teetotallers either. The very same blokes who once bonded over empty schooners are now trading intel on which bottle-o carries the premium non-alc crafties.

Could it be true? Have we finally, mercifully, ditched the toxic “I can outdrink ya, mate” culture that’s defined Australian masculinity for generations?

Historically, manliness and heavy drinking were as chummy as rum and coke. “Get your old man a beer” was the anthem that rang out over Hills Hoists across suburban backyards. Paul Hogan winked through the telly, Foster’s in hand, selling the idea that real Aussie men drink beer. And a hard day’s yakka often ended at the pub shouting rounds of amber-hued liquid confidence. Until recently, the message was clear: Getting shitfaced is peak masculinity, and refusing a sip makes you, well, soft.

Now, high-profile Aussie men, including Matt Agnew, Osher Gunsberg, and Cody Simpson, talk openly about their decisions to cut the grog, offering new role models outside the “sink piss or you’re soft” stereotype. Better mental health literacy has carved out space for men to prioritise wellbeing without the social penalties that once came with ordering mineral water instead of VB. So instead of Paul Hogan cheers-ing us, we’re scrolling past videos of Chris Hemsworth sharing his favourite post-workout smoothie recipe.

The “youths” appear to be leading this revolution. A recent government survey shows a pretty drastic decline in alcohol consumption in those aged 14 to 24 in the past two decades. But recent Drinkwise data suggests older generations are following suit, with 62 per cent feeling more empowered to make the choice not to drink.

This isn’t about demonising a cold one after work or suggesting everyone should go dry. I’m far from a sobriety evangelist. I love a tipple. In fact, people pushing sobriety on me goes down about as well as cheap vodka. This is mainly because I don’t think others should be dictating our health choices. Or, in the immortal words of whoever wrote that song my son recently learnt at kinder, “I’m the boss of my own body”, and I’m content with what my moderate drinking does to mine.

Honestly, sometimes the commercialisation of sobriety rubs me the wrong way. But there’s no denying the positive impact the global zero-proof market (expected to reach over $950 billion this year) has had on this revolution. Though, it still baffles me that “zero” beers cost nearly the same as the full-strength versions.

Chris Hemsworth is just as likely to be seen drinking a smoothie as a beer. Credit: AP

I’m certainly not suggesting our cultural problem with alcohol lies in the distant past. But this newfound freedom for men to choose sobriety without social penalty represents real progress. An outdated patriarchal system hurts everyone – men included. And when we begin to dismantle it, men are free to redefine masculinity to something that precludes violence and other harmful behaviours.

Again, I’m not delusional enough to think we’re adequately tackling the issue of gendered violence in this country. But there are signs, blink-and-you’ll-miss-them signs, that the cultural conversation is shifting. Our collective transfixion by the recent Netflix smash hit Adolescence is one.

So where does this leave us? I think we’re witnessing a quiet revolution. There’s something beautifully Australian about our capacity to evolve while holding on to the best parts of tradition. The pub remains our social hub – it’s just what’s in the glass that’s changed. Maybe the true-blue Aussie bloke of tomorrow isn’t defined by how he holds his liquor, but by his willingness to choose what his father couldn’t – and rewrite what it means to be a man in this glorious land Down Under.

And bloody oath, I’ll drink to that.

Hannah Vanderheide is a freelance health writer and actor based in Victoria.

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