The New Sober? More New Age Narcissism

By Richard Thomas

(Credit: Wikimedia Commons CC by SA 2.0; Star 5512

My initial reaction upon first reading about the emerging California Sober movement was thinking “You have got to be f***ing kidding me.” My disbelief was that even in an era when people love to cloak their bad behaviors behind a thick layer of phony moral superiority, disinformation and deflection, the hypocrisy of this particular trend was so blatant I spent a few minutes believing it was a joke. Then the reality of people shifting their substance abuse problem from alcohol to marijuana and psychedelics settled in: yes, there really was a sanctimonious trend out there that was that stupidly, flagrantly insincere and duplicitous.

Since learning of California Sober in 2018, the idea of sobriety being trendy has taken root and grown into The New Sober, a vague concept that embraces everything from a rejection of mind and body altering substances that would make a conservative Mormon applaud to mere flirting with reducing one’s intake of one or more said substances. The New Sober is so lacking in definition that even I could claim to be an adherent, simply by choosing to put a new label on an existing preference: I rejected coffee in my teens and been a lifelong tea drinker instead, so my reliance on caffeine is much, much lower than that of most people on the planet. I could therefore claim to be “Caffeine Mindful,” to use the language of The New Sober, which should illustrate just how dumb a conception of sobriety is being foisted on society at large.

Bettering Your Life Is A Worthy Thing
Before I go any further, I do not mean to belittle the demanding struggle of those overcoming real substance abuse or similar problems. Whether it is alcoholism, anorexia and other food compulsions, smoking and opioids or other forms of addiction like gambling or porn, anyone trying to put an end to their self-destructive habits and addictions should be encouraged and applauded. This editorial is not about that; instead, I am mocking a group of people who indirectly belittle those very real struggles in the name of smugness.

In fact, the one part of the new notion in sobriety that I respect is the trend for systematically eliminating a reliance on any mind- or body-chemistry altering substance. In one sterling example, over the Pandemic I listened to Katie Toupin detail how she struggled with alcohol abuse and eating disorders, which led her to get sober. From there, she went after other perceived substance issues, and at the time of the podcast, she identified smoking as her last demon to exorcise; she had moved from smoking to vaping, and had decided the time was soon coming to drop vaping and quit nicotine altogether. Toupin is not the first person I’ve been aware of who mounted such a campaign, but she is the most famous and sympathetic figure I know of to do so. Rather than being preachy or making it a social marketing point, she is comes across as simply practical about her efforts.

When it comes to breaking habits, standing still while struggling with temptation is strenuously difficult. Momentum is crucial, and sometimes the best way to consolidate success in changing a facet in one’s life is to move onto a new, similar challenge. Following that path isn’t new, trendy or preparatory to joining the Church of Mormon. Also familiar is replacing one addiction with another, in hopes the new one is a better master. This is why, for example, it is a familiar story for a gambling addict to become ardently devoted to fitness or religion instead.

Replacing One Substance With Another
That replacement pattern is what makes California Sober and whatever versions of it have sprouted since so execrable. No one who replaces alcohol by leaning more heavily on THC or magic mushrooms has actually accomplished anything difficult, and certainly aren’t leading an objectively superior lifestyle. Yet that crowd spills a lot of ink and pixels in the regular media and on social media trying to sell it as exactly that: demonstrably superior in terms of not just health, but even morals or spirituality.

If trends like this were rooted in mere preference, this op-ed wouldn’t exist, but it so often isn’t. Comedian Katie Boyle has a bit I’m fond of about people giving her side-eye for smoking out on the sidewalk while they are tripping on mushrooms. That is the point for almost everyone doing The New Sober. They aren’t minding their own life and pursuing improvement; instead they’ve adopted a new tool for bolstering their narcissistic pretensions.

The world we live in today is crammed with examples of what I’ve taken to calling New Age Narcissism: trends drawing on themes that were last popular in the late 1960s and 1970s, the broader purpose of which is to give their followers something to be puffed up and self-approving about. It’s ironic that Millennials created modern veganism, anti-vaxxing and polyamory, invented new terminology and pseudo-science to enable the attached gaslighting, and claimed it all to be completely new and a superior way of living. Yet all they accomplished was reviving the selfishness they supposedly despised in their Boomer parents while making it into something even more toxic. The New Sober is cut from the same cloth.

After years of this silly proposition being a lesser annoyance that would appear from time to time in my news feeds, I was prompted to write about it by something that I witnessed the other night. I was at Whiskey Bear, a local bar I’m fond of, and found myself sitting next to a trio of under-25 year olds. They were sipping on mocktails, which is fine. Yet they were talking about how alcohol is so bad for one’s health, loudly enough that they clearly wanted to be overheard. The conversation ended with a review of what kind of edibles were waiting for them at the one woman’s home. My eyeroll had the heft of an 18 lbs bowling ball. That I overhead all this at bar with the word whiskey in its title just underlines the silly pretension of it.

If a person prefers pot to booze or wants to pay for $15 soft drinks at a bar, fine. That is a preference. I won’t argue drink is superior to edibles anymore than I would argue whiskey is superior to tequila. Whiskey is my preference. My preferences and tastes don’t make me intrinsically better than anyone else. Neither do yours. Those who think otherwise have only proven they are a lesser person, not a better one.