There was a time, not long ago, when the government launched a moral crusade against “Ara”, the homemade spirit that had long been an integral part of rural life.
Armed with policy and force, authorities raided humble households, seized their copper distilling pots—the beloved Ara Zangs—and warned of the dangers of alcohol. Families who had brewed for generations to survive the cold, to celebrate, or to mourn, were criminalized. The narrative then was clear.
And yet today, in a stunning and hypocritical twist, we have become a nation swimming in industrial alcohol, drowning in beer promotions, wine tastings, and bar signs lighting up every urban street. In our towns, bars outnumber libraries, and alcohol flows more freely than information or education.
As highlighted by one MP’s recent petition to Parliament, this shift hasn’t just betrayed Bhutan’s rural communities. It has created a public health crisis, fractured families, and exposed our youth to a culture of casual, unchecked intoxication. Over 9,700 licensed bars now cater to a population barely above 700,000. That’s one bar for every 72 people. Let that sink in.
Despite a 2019 licensing freeze, thousands of bars remain operational, and illegal transfers and under-the-table sales of licenses have turned alcohol permits into a black-market commodity. The rich resell licenses for profit.
The poor, as always, are locked out, forced to either brew in secrecy, as they once did, or be excluded from the system altogether. It is a stark echo of the Ara Zang raids, only this time, the injustice wears a business suit and holds a commercial license.
Meanwhile, the children of Bhutan are growing up surrounded by a normalized drinking culture. Age restrictions are ignored, enforcement is nonexistent, and bars operate within walking distance of schools and clinics.
The numbers are not anecdotal. In just three years, alcohol-related liver disease cases rose by nearly 10 percent, with 2,625 cases recorded in 2023 alone. Behind each of those statistics is a home in turmoil, a parent lost, or a future dimmed.
Where is the outrage?
The government’s response has been sluggish, tangled in five-year plans and vague promises of “public awareness” and “rehabilitation.” The same Ministry that once confiscated Ara Zangs now supervises an explosion of industrial beer and wine production. The hypocrisy is staggering.
We now face a crossroads: continue down this drunken spiral of commercialized alcohol dependency, or sober up as a nation and demand a licensing system rooted in transparency, public health, and equity.
Targeted awareness campaigns, stricter enforcement, regional licensing quotas, and alcohol-free zones near schools and hospitals are common-sense interventions. But most importantly, the licensing freeze must be lifted with equity in mind, giving ordinary Bhutanese, especially small rural entrepreneurs, the chance to transition into the formal economy without backdoor deals or bureaucratic blockades.
Alcohol is not the enemy, irresponsible governance is. Bhutan doesn’t need another bar. It needs leadership, compassion, and a return to the values it so often preaches.
The parliament has one chance to correct this national hangover before it becomes a permanent condition. The time to act was yesterday. The cost of delay is our nation’s future.
