The Case for Dive Bars

H istorically, the American tavern has been a hub for socialization and community-building.

Bars — despite their sometimes gritty appearance or, depending on the establishment, rowdy clientele — are essential third places where friends go to unwind, laugh, and connect with others. Up and down the ages, taverns, pubs, and dive bars have served as institutions where new friendships, romances, and even political movements have been set into motion. Alcohol is a social lubricant, not to mention that there’s something simply satisfying about drinking a cold glass of beer with friends, new and old.

In The Great Good Place, Ray Oldenburg writes, “During our colonial era, the tavern was the focal point of community. Combined with lodging facilities as an inn or ordinary, it was a forum and a community center, a place for genial self-expression, and, for the traveller, a home away from home.” Today, however, more people are drinking beer alone — or not at all.

According to a new study from NCSolutions, Americans are increasingly drawn to a more sober lifestyle, with 49 percent of respondents saying that they “plan to drink less alcohol in 2025, a 44 percent increase since 2023.” Additionally, “30 percent of Americans say they are taking part in Dry January, the annual challenge to abstain from alcohol — a 36 percent increase from 2024.”

Perhaps the most remarkable finding is that 65 percent of Gen Z respondents said they “plan to drink less alcohol in 2025, a much higher percentage than other generations.” This, in effect, means that America’s children are increasingly unlikely to sustain the colonial tradition of taverns as third places.

At first glance, this appears to be a good trend, especially in the wake of former U.S. Surgeon General Vivek Murthy’s advisory report on the links between alcohol use and cancer. But while drinking in excess is surely not good for you, there has been ample research in recent years that loneliness and lack of social connection have their own physiological consequences, including an increased risk of developing dementia.

The disappearance of public drinking would typify the death of bars. And the death of the bar would mean the elimination of an irreplaceable source of American community and companionship.

To be sure, the decline in public drinking isn’t necessarily new. Oldenburg wrote in 1999 that “American drinking establishments are losing ground to the private consumption of alcoholic beverages.” The lockdowns mandated during the Covid pandemic no doubt exacerbated the transition away from public drinking. In Manhattan, a city well known for its vibrant nightlife, more than 10 percent of the borough’s Irish pubs closed their doors permanently.

Even with Covid-19 in the rearview mirror, though, people are still choosing to drink at home. One study found that “23 percent of consumers drank more at home over the past 12 months, compared to 16 percent who drank more on-premise.”

Interestingly, while inflation is frequently cited as an explanation for why alcohol consumers are opting for at-home drinking, another study found that 45 percent of the people they surveyed reported that “they are drinking more expensive or premium beer, wine, and spirits at home versus at bars/restaurants.” What’s more, people are trying out their “self-bartending” skills rather than frequenting the local pub.

This indicates that something else is at play here. There’s something about the bar as an establishment that has lost its appeal; home is just more comfortable.

But with loneliness and social isolation on the rise, it seems as though we are losing these bastions of civil society at precisely the time when we should be supporting such institutions’ reemergence. Soon, drinking canned margaritas at home while watching Netflix will be the new norm; the outside world is just too scary and socially draining.

Moreover, bars act as “social levelers.” That is, because bars have virtually no barrier to entry, they attract people of all socioeconomic strata. This is called “economic connectedness.” According to research on this subject, communities with higher levels of economic connectedness lend themselves to more social mobility. They also help people to cross class divides, building social capital.

Public policy can play a role in reinvigorating these third places. Cities across the nation are taking advantage of new state laws, such as North Carolina’s H890, which allow for the creation of outdoor drinking zones. Regulations against such local policies inhibit the ability of bar owners, would-be bar owners, bar-goers, and would-be bar-goers to rebuild these third places.

The present need not look like the past. American dive bars are not the same as cavernous English pubs but serve the same essential purpose: bringing people together in an informal setting. Policymakers, entrepreneurs, and everyday citizens should think consciously about how they can rekindle such settings and how they might be reimagined for the 21st century.

Next time you go out with friends and crack open a cold one at the local dive, rest assured that you’re not only doing yourself a great service by winding down. You’re participating in a small but necessary rebellion against the powerful current of social atomization. 

Joe Pitts is a young professional currently working in Washington, D.C. He is a native Arizonan. 

Frank Filocomo is the program manager at National Review Institute.