p. 12 | Alcohol Not a Stimulant

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D.C. · Feb 12, 1914

Alcohol Not a Stimulant

Most persons would say, offhand, that whatever else alcohol may be, it is certainly a stimulant, and that the trouble with it is that it stimulates too much. On the contrary, Dr. Emil Kraepelin, professor of mental diseases in the University of Munich, is said to have demonstrated that alcohol is a narcotic first, last, and always; that the stimulation is merely imaginary; and that one does less and poorer work under its influence, although, curiously enough, he thinks he is turning out more and better work than usual. Kraepelin and his coworkers also assert that it is not the fourth nor the fifth drink that intoxicates: it is the sum of the first, second, and third. On direct evidence and supporting testimony they have made out a strong case against alcohol. A man is “drunk,” or under the influence of liquor to a demonstrable degree, says Dr. Kraepelin, when his muscular or mental speed or endurance limits have suffered a diminution as a result of his having imbibed. The condition may be clearly shown by mechanical devices of the laboratory, whose testimony is final, no matter what the man himself has to say about it. There is no appeal from their decision. Some of Dr. Kraepelin’s tests are thus described in the Associated Sunday Magazines by Dr. Edwin F. Bowers. He writes:—

“A group of men—who were kept in ignorance of the real nature of the tests, who understood only that they were expected to persist to the limit of their endurance—was capable of a definite average quantity of work. This average was determined with almost mathematical certainty by experiments made dozens of times, under absolutely similar conditions as regarded time of day, food, exercise, and surroundings.

“A good index of the degree of a man’s capability for work is the weight he can continue to lift with the index-finger of his right hand. So the ergograph, a celebrated laboratory device invented by Prof. Angelo Mosso, was brought into requisition. In manipulating this the fingers were clinched round a wooden peg,—all but the index-finger,—the arm held immovable by being clamped to the arm of a chair. A weight of several kilograms, suspended by a small rope that passed over a pulley, was raised and lowered until the subjects were forced to desist from exhaustion. This process was repeated twelve times, with rests of a minute intervening—like the rounds in a boxing contest. Each pull was automatically recorded by a pencil on a strip of paper, registered by a line. The sum of the lengths of all the lines was translated into ‘meter kilograms,’ which meant the work accomplished in raising one kilogram one meter against the pull of gravity.

“These experiments were made ten times a day, and the total average for each man calculated for a number of days, under conditions of absolute abstention from drink. Then the men were given the alcoholic equivalent of a ‘good glass’ of Bordeaux wine after each meal, and the experiments repeated. The consequences were a diminution in the subjects’ ability to withstand the fatigue of weight lifting, amounting to an average of from 7.6 to 8 per cent. These experiments were repeated hundreds of times by scientists in various parts of Europe, and always with similar results. In every instance a definite, measurable loss in muscular efficiency was demonstrated.

“Having shown these effects on resistance to fatigue, the learned professors advanced to the consideration of principles involving combined muscular and mental processes. The ‘writing balance,’ invented by Professor Kraepelin, was subpoenaed as chief witness in this case. This ingenious contrivance had attached to it a fifth-second chronometer, which automatically registered time on a rotating drum covered with carbon paper. On the record obtained in this manner the time required in writing a set of characters can be computed with an error of less than one two-hundredth of a second. The unit of time in which the trials were based was called a zeta, and corresponded to one one-hundredth of a second.

“The daily exercises began at 8 A. M. The subject’s hand was connected with the apparatus, and the figures 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, were written twice with pencil at top speed. Then the sequence reversed—10, 9, 8, 7, 6, etc.—was twice written; then the German letters ‘inn,’ also twice. These were repeated ten times, and the total average time consumed by each man was measured. Then he received his allotment of wine, as with the ergograph experiments.

“After five minutes they resumed their writing, carrying out their appointed task in scribbling as before; and proved that, while the spirit was willing, the flesh—and its controlling nerve pulses—was weakened; for they had, every man of them, measurably slowed up. The degree of retardation, after writing 1 to 10 under the influence of the small amount of alcohol administered (about what the ordinary drinker would take with his dinner), amounted to 5.6

per cent. In writing 10 to 1 the retardation was greater, amounting to 7 per cent. This was accounted for by the increasing complexity of the stunt, it being a more novel combination than the straight progression of numbers. With the ‘inn’ the deviation from normal was ever more apparent, averaging 7.3 per cent. Again and again these same general results were secured; though new crews were used for each demonstration.

“Similar results followed in the co-ordination tests, where the subject was required to ‘snap down’ a telegraphic switch at the unexpected flash of a light or sound of a gong, the time elapsing between flashing the light or striking the gong and closing the switch being measured by the zeta chronometer. In every case the rapidity of the co-ordinating responses was decreased from 6 to 8.3 per cent.

“Next, a number of accountants of all grades were selected, and their average ability to add one-figure columns was estimated for one week. They were then given daily, in divided doses, the equivalent of three and a half cups of claret. A marked and progressive diminution in their output was noticed, beginning with 3.1 per cent the first day. After two weeks of this steady, moderate alcoholic allowance the percentage increased to 15.3.

“Similar experiments were then tried on typesetters. These were required to set type from printed pages (to insure absolute uniformity of copy), and the total number of ems a day was computed for a week. Then, with daily gentlemanly drinks, they lost an average of 9.6 per cent in efficiency by the end of the week. . . .

“Perhaps the most convincing observation was concerned in the free ‘association of ideas.’ This, when the condition is raised to the fourth dimension, causes the party of the first part to forget his watch and chain, the number of the house in which he lives, and his wife’s first name. He is then in a state for which the vulgar have a variety of picturesque names. The scientist calls it ‘alcoholic inhibition,’ and he can usually define the gradients with precision.

“However, we are now considering alcoholic inhibition in embryo—before it grows up and develops, as it were—and the various methods employed in classifying its general characteristics. To illustrate, if the name of an object is spoken, immediately one thinks of something in connection with that object. Professor Kraepelin’s subjects were requested to write these down, enumerating as many associated objects as occurred to them in the space of five minutes. Two words were given out at each séance, five minutes being allotted to each subject. This was repeated at intervals during the day for ten days, and the average number of suggested things reckoned up. Then each evening preceding the next ten days a generous nightcap was donated, and the results of the following ten days’ ‘association’ and computed. A loss in coordinating power in this series amounted to as high as 27 per cent.”

This, Dr. Bowers thinks, was a remarkably convincing demonstration, and proves conclusively that one who drinks much is living only a small part of his normal life. It and Dr. Kraepelin’s other tests tend to show that the alleged “stimulant” powers of alcohol are a delusion pure and simple.—Literary Digest, Jan. 10, 1914.