Binge-drinking: What happened to our sense of shame? - Telegraph
Shame and morality
Let's not beat about the bush! It's probably a deeply unfashionable thing to say, but those who drink themselves into vomiting insensibility in the way John Humphrys describes in his article are behaving immorally.
Why immorally? Because their conduct denies their God-given nobility of character - and this is a deeply immoral thing to do, in my view, at least.
In one of His Hidden Words, Baha'u'llah, Founder of the Baha'i Faith, says this:
O Son of Spirit! Noble have I created thee, yet thou hast abased thyself. Rise then unto that for which thou wast created.
Baha'u'llah teaches that human beings are mines "rich in gems", packed with God-given talents and capacities - including moral capacities. It is our choice whether we rise to that for which we are created. Do we choose for ourselves a noble goal, as the Baha'i Writings call on us to do? Do we choose to be of service to our fellow human beings? Or do we choose to give free reign to what the Baha'i teachings refer to as the animal side of our dual nature?
In the past a sense of shame would have limited our excesses. Now, we seem to have lost our susceptibility to the social disapproval that leads to our feeling ashamed.
We need to replace this with a deeper understanding of our true, noble and spiritual nature. That deeper understanding will lead us to aspire to be noble and behave in a noble manner. Fear of God - the other side of the coin of reward and punishment, which, Baha'u'llah says, are the two pillars of justice in the world - will restrain us from our own folly.
Moral education
The spiritual and moral education that leads us to embrace our nobility and to use our talents and capacities in service to our fellow human beings has to start young. It needs to be a foundational part of our educational system, including what our children learn in their families.
Binge drinking
By John Humphrys
Published: 7:17PM BST 17 Apr 2010There was a time – before universities started offering “media studies” courses – when young reporters like me cut their journalistic teeth on local papers. We did our porridge covering council meetings and magistrates’ courts and God help us if we spelt someone’s name incorrectly. It’s fair to say that most cases were not exciting. Most of the miscreants in the magistrates’ courts I covered as a fresh-faced 16-year-old in South Wales were up either for being drunk and disorderly or for urinating in a public place. Often both. They’d be fined five shillings and told to go away and stop doing it. Even in those far-off days, five bob was a pretty modest fine and I wondered why the police bothered arresting them.
“It’s the shame,” a seasoned old inspector told me. “They know you’ll put their name in the paper and everyone will read it and that’s what hurts.”
I thought about shame when I stood in the streets of Cardiff on a Saturday night a couple of weeks ago. I wondered what had happened to it. I also wondered how the magistrates would cope if everyone I saw who was drunk and disorderly or urinating in the street ended up in front of them the next day. Not that there was the remotest chance of that. The local police I spoke to laughed at the idea of arresting every rowdy drunk or urinating yob. They would have to do something much more serious to get arrested and locked up – which indeed some did while I was there. The police sergeant showing me around was injured when he courageously intervened in a fight. That, he said, was par for the course for Friday and Saturday nights.Far from putting a stop to the drunkenness, the best the police can hope to do is contain it. They close the road and seal off the part of the city centre with the most pubs so that it effectively becomes a no-go area for people who just want a pleasant night out with a meal and a quiet drink.
It was the news editor on my first local paper who introduced me to the five questions that, he said solemnly, all competent journalists should address: Who? What? Where? When? Why? So let’s apply them to what I found in Cardiff.
The “who” isn’t as obvious as it might seem. It’s not just young men, it’s women, too. At least as many females as males. I met the so-called “street pastors”, who operate around the country, usually patrolling with the police and helping people too drunk to help themselves. In Cardiff they carry a stack of flip-flops and give them to women who are so drunk they can’t move around in their high heels –assuming they haven’t simply lost their shoes. And they’re not all young.
The “what” is entirely obvious. They go out to get drunk and they are utterly unashamed of the fact. Indeed, they boast about it. If that means they end up urinating and vomiting in the streets, so be it. That, as my friendly police officer told me, is seen as an incidental by-product of a good night out.
The “where” and the “when” are easy to answer too. It’s just about everywhere. Cardiff is not some hellish exception. Much the same happens in towns and city centres – and, yes, even some villages. And it happens pretty well every weekend. It’s the “why” that’s tricky.

