(Editorial team)
For years, January has been declared a moral high mass for abstinence. With headlines that sound so unequivocal that they are intended to nip any questioning in the bud: Alcohol is poison. Every drop is harmful. Full stop. What systematically disappears in the process is not doubt – but the evidence. Or, to be more precise: the evidence that does not fit into the didactic narrative.
The article now published in the New York Times on 16 December 2025 brings this suppressed complexity back into the debate with remarkable clarity. And it does something that, in the context of Dry January, has so far been regarded almost as sacrilege: it shows that the scientific picture is not conclusive, not unambiguous and certainly not as morally unambiguous as the educational media have been suggesting for years.
The starting point is a new review by the American Heart Association which – not yet cancelled or subverted by ‘Health Kennedy’ and bucking the prevailing trend – states that light alcohol consumption, defined as one to two drinks a day, does not pose an increased risk of coronary heart disease, stroke or sudden cardiac death – and may even, under certain circumstances, be associated with a lower risk. It states, verbatim, that light consumption ‘posed no risk for coronary disease, stroke, sudden death and possibly heart failure, and may even reduce the risk’ (NYT, 16 December 2025).
This statement alone is enough to set off alarm bells. For it contradicts the ‘no safe level’ thesis that has been aggressively promoted in recent years. And this is precisely where the real problem lies: it is not the science that is clear-cut, but the selection of what is communicated to the public.
The NYT article clearly explains why the famous J-curve – which, since the 1920s, has shown that light drinkers have statistically lower mortality rates than teetotallers and heavy drinkers – has fallen into disrepute. Critics have rightly pointed out that many so-called teetotallers were formerly ill or ex-alcoholics. That moderate drinkers often have higher levels of education, better medical care and, overall, more stable living conditions. These are all valid objections.
But just as valid is the next finding, which health education rhetoric tends to gloss over: even newer methods such as Mendelian randomisation have so far failed to prove that moderate drinkers face a higher risk of heart disease or death. On the contrary: in these studies, people who, for genetic reasons, have a low tolerance for alcohol and therefore drink very little were no healthier than light drinkers. A finding which – according to the NYT – at the very least does not disprove ‘the hypothesis that light drinking is beneficial’.
And this is precisely where it becomes political. For it is at this point that it is decided whether one is explaining science – or seeking to influence behaviour.
The New York Times openly states what many media outlets gloss over: that much of the reporting on alcohol no longer aims to provide insight, but rather to steer behaviour. ‘If you don’t drink, don’t start,’ says the AHA’s chief medical officer – a statement that sounds sensible, but at the same time stifles the debate. For there is a difference between not starting and moral condemnation. And this difference has been systematically blurred for years by Dry January.
Particularly revealing is the accusation levelled by critics of the AHA study themselves – and which the NYT does not gloss over: that individual authors had links to the alcohol industry. That is relevant. But it is made relevant in a selective manner. For the same rigour is rarely applied when studies originate from abstinence-focused networks whose agenda is just as clear. Transparency is not a one-way street.
What is becoming apparent here is not a battle for health, but for interpretative authority. Not risk education versus enjoyment – but control versus ambivalence. Dry January only works as long as it can claim there is nothing to discuss. The NYT dismantles this claim not through polemic, but through journalism. By showing that even leading medical experts have to admit: the evidence is contradictory. The effects are small. The relationships are complex. And many claims are based on observational studies which, as Stanford professor John Ioannidis says, are ‘pretty weak by definition’.
It is no coincidence that articles of this very kind have so far been scarcely cited, let alone discussed, in January. They disrupt the clear message. They demand thought rather than obedience. And they serve as a reminder that enjoyment, moderation and responsibility are not the same as abstinence on command.
Perhaps that will change in 2026. Perhaps not. But with this article, the New York Times has provided something that is sorely lacking in the debate: an invitation to embrace discomfort. And the realisation that moral judgements are no substitute for scientific integrity.
Wineparty won’t forget this during the upcoming Dry January. And we’ll be watching very closely to see who cites this study – and who, once again, pretends it doesn’t exist.