Gen Z Isn't Quitting Alcohol. They're Renegotiating It

The neat story about young people and alcohol goes like this: gen Z has gone sober, replaced pubs with pilates, and left everyone else to clean up the sticky floor. It is a good headline because it has a hero, a villain and an easy ending. It is also too tidy for what is actually happening in Aotearoa.

Young Kiwis have changed the place alcohol occupies in social life. That is visible in the long trend, in a Friday bar order that now includes zero-alcohol beer without fanfare, and in the growing number of plans that do not begin with “where are we drinking?” But change is not the same as abstinence. Some people drink less. Some drink differently. Some do not drink at all. Some still have heavy nights. The 2024/25 Health Survey is a useful correction to anyone trying to turn a generation into a lifestyle brand: the overall hazardous-drinking rate has continued to fall, while reporting also pointed to a sharp change among younger people in the latest year. There is no single generation-wide setting labelled sensible.

The more interesting question is not whether gen Z has quit alcohol. It is what happens when drinking stops being the automatic entry ticket to a social plan.

Key takeaways

• In the 2024/25 New Zealand Health Survey, 16.6 percent of adults were classified as hazardous drinkers, down from 21.3 percent in 2019/20. That is progress, not a reason to pretend alcohol harm has vanished.
• The official survey collected data from 9,253 adults and 2,805 children between July 2024 and July 2025. It is a national snapshot, not pub gossip dressed as evidence.
• In the 2023/24 survey, hazardous drinking among 18 to 24-year-olds was 22.6 percent, down from 35.8 percent five years earlier. The latest release also prompted reporting of a rise among 15 to 24-year-olds, which is exactly why one glowing “gen Z drinks less” story will not do.
• University of Otago research found less stigma around declining alcohol among teenagers than there was two decades ago, alongside a group of young people who still drank heavily.
• “Zebra striping” means alternating alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks during one occasion. It is a pattern, not a loophole. Each alcoholic drink still counts.

The myth is too clean

A cultural shift often arrives as a caricature. First comes the joke: nobody under 25 drinks anymore. Then comes the counter-joke: actually, the kids are drinking alcopops and the whole sober-curious thing was performative. Both versions flatten real people into a trend report.

The Health Survey is better at describing the country than a social feed. Its 2024/25 annual update says 16.6 percent of adults were classified as hazardous drinkers, unchanged from the previous year and below the 21.3 percent recorded in 2019/20. The classification is based on an AUDIT score of eight or more. It indicates a pattern associated with risk, not a personality type and not a licence to diagnose someone across a kitchen bench.

The decline matters. So does its limit. One in six adults is not a small residual category. The latest health coverage also warned against treating younger people as a completed success story, reporting that a decline in older groups had been offset by a rise among 15 to 24-year-olds in the latest survey year. The point is not to panic over one number. It is to resist the temptation to use a broad trend as a blanket assurance about any age group.

Gen Z does not need to be held up as a sober saint or a failed self-improvement project. Young people are responding to cost, transport, work, study, mental health, dating, family histories, sport, religion, medication, personal taste and a plain old desire to remember the next day. Those reasons do not always point in the same direction. They do make a one-size drinking culture harder to sustain.

The pressure to perform a big night has eased

In a 2023 report on University of Otago research, 1News described interviews with 64 Wellington secondary-school students aged 14 to 17, compared with similar interviews undertaken in 1999 to 2001. The researchers found a substantial shift in the social place of alcohol. Teenagers talked about less stigma around turning down a drink. They also described active social lives that did not involve alcohol or other substances.

“Twenty years ago drinking and partying seemed to be an almost compulsory part of social life. If you didn't drink then you were really outside of teen norms, whereas today there seem to be lots of different ways of being a teen.” — Dr Jude Ball, University of Otago researcher, quoted by 1News

That sentence is more useful than an argument about whether a particular generation is morally better than the last. Compulsory is the key word. If a drink is the cost of admission to every birthday, house party, gig, work function and first date, then opting out requires an explanation. If it is one option among several, declining it becomes ordinary.

Ordinary is powerful. A person saying “I’m on zeroes tonight” should not need a medical certificate, a driving excuse or a solemn announcement that they have found themselves. Sometimes they are driving. Sometimes they are taking a break. Sometimes the IPA gives them a headache. Sometimes they simply prefer a lime soda. A social scene with room for all of those answers is not boring. It is more workable.

The Otago findings did not say alcohol problems had disappeared. Dr Ball was clear that some young people were still “going really hard out with drinking” and needed support. That both-and framing is essential. Fewer teenagers drinking does not automatically reduce harm for young people who do drink heavily. It does, however, show that the old social script is no longer the only script available.

The weekend has acquired more than one opening act

Think about the range of invitations that compete for a Saturday morning now: a park run, a surf check, a market, a shift, a gym class, a volunteer thing, a family lunch, a football game, a long drive, an early flight. None of these makes a person virtuous. They simply make an all-or-nothing Friday less convenient.

That practical constraint becomes cultural when a group shares it. A mate who does a 7am run does not have to be the annoying one if there are four others also making the start line. A table can move from bar to late-night food without everyone treating that as a failure of nerve. A birthday can centre on bowling, a beach, a gig or a dinner, with alcohol present but no longer responsible for generating every ounce of atmosphere.

The earlier Get Reboot story about run clubs should not be read as a claim that running replaced drinking. It did not. It illustrates something more modest and more durable: new social rituals can make space beside established ones. The pub remains. The flat remains. So does the ability to make plans that begin somewhere else.

A useful test is whether a plan still works if one person does not drink. If the answer is no, the plan may be relying on alcohol for more social labour than anyone wants to admit. That does not make the group bad. It gives the group a design problem. Add food earlier. Pick an activity. Give people an exit route. Stop treating a zero-alcohol order as a conversation starter.

Selecting the occasion, not swearing off the drink

The word “moderation” can sound like homework handed out by someone who has never been to a good party. In practice, it is often less dramatic. People are choosing particular occasions rather than drinking by default. They are having a beer with dinner but skipping the afters. They are drinking at a wedding but not at the work do. They are starting later because they have training in the morning. They are taking a month off, then deciding what they actually miss.

That is why the language of total abstinence can be unhelpful for understanding the present. Someone can be sober. Someone can be sober curious. Someone can be reducing. Someone can drink rarely. Someone can drink regularly but choose a lower-strength option. Those are different positions, and they do not need to be ranked in order of purity.

The Guardian’s 2025 reporting on gen Z captured the complication neatly. Behavioural scientist Ivo Vlaev called the pattern a “generational recalibration, not a simple return to hedonism”. Richard Halstead of IWSR made the related point that the idea gen Z does not drink at all is not supported by data, while the idea that it has a different relationship with alcohol is. Neither source is a substitute for New Zealand data. They are a warning not to import a lazy global story either way.

The version that fits here is more grounded: plenty of young Kiwis are selective. Selective can mean drinking less. It can also mean spending more on one good drink, heading out for an event rather than sitting in a pub because there is nowhere else to be, or mixing alcohol with non-alcoholic choices. The cultural change is in the expectation of choice, not in a universal ban.

A zero-alcohol order no longer reads as an apology

For years, the alcohol-free option at many places was a warm lemon lime and bitters, a soft drink or water. That still does the job. But it does not always give someone the social object they want: a can in hand at a barbecue, a cold beer-shaped drink at the pub, a decent grown-up option with dinner.

New Zealand Alcohol Beverages Council said independent consumer research conducted by Curia in October 2024 found 55 percent of respondents had drunk low-alcohol beverages in the previous year, up from 40 percent in 2020. That is industry-linked research and should be read as such, not treated as the final word on the market. It is nevertheless consistent with what is visible at fridges and bar taps: low- and no-alcohol options are now part of the standard range.

The important social development is not the product itself. It is that a person can take part in the rhythm of a round without making a special case of themselves. That is not a medical claim. It is an observation about belonging. A non-alcoholic beer is sometimes just a beer-shaped prop for catching up with friends. A sparkling water in a nice glass can do the same thing. The best option is whichever lets the person choose without fuss.

Zero-alcohol products are not automatically harmless or appropriate for everyone, and packaging can be confusingly similar to alcoholic versions. Read labels, especially if you are avoiding alcohol completely or are buying for someone else. The broader point remains: when the default menu has more than one lane, social pressure loses some of its force.

Zebra striping is a habit, not a halo

The latest piece of drinking vocabulary to reach New Zealand is “zebra striping”: alternating an alcoholic drink with a non-alcoholic one over the course of a session. NZABC describes it as socialising while having beer, wine or spirits and alternating with a no- or low-alcohol drink. Drinkaware in the UK gives the same basic definition.

It is not clever enough to deserve a TED Talk. It is simply a pattern that can slow the evening down. For some people that means beer, water, beer. For others it means a cocktail followed by a zero-alcohol beer, or one glass of wine then a soft drink while they eat. The particular sequence matters less than the fact that it interrupts automatic reordering.

The hard boundary is simple: alternating does not erase alcohol. It does not make someone safe to drive. It does not cancel an interaction with medication. It does not make a big total amount harmless. A standard drink remains a standard drink whether it arrives before or after a glass of water. If you are driving, pregnant or planning pregnancy, operating machinery, taking an interacting medicine, or under 18, the relevant guidance is not a moderation trick. It is to avoid alcohol.

Still, the habit says something about the culture. It assumes you can remain in the group without matching every round. That might sound tiny. It is not tiny if you have ever been the person nursing a drink while someone asks why you are “being boring”.

The flat party is not the whole country

There is a risk in writing about a generational shift from the vantage point of central-city bars and university flats. Not every young person has access to a safe social scene, a reliable ride home, a fridge full of options or friends who accept a no. Cost pressures are uneven. Housing is uneven. Family responsibilities are uneven. Alcohol harm is uneven too.

The New Zealand Health Survey reports differences by sex, ethnicity, age and other demographics. Those figures are there to direct attention, not to encourage stereotypes. A percentage cannot explain a person’s drinking. It cannot tell you whether someone is dealing with grief, trauma, isolation, an unsafe relationship or an alcohol-dependent household. It cannot tell you who at the party is struggling.

That is why peer culture matters more than a slogan. The most useful thing a friend group can offer is a low-drama off-ramp: food on the table, water available, no pressure to match pace, a lift or taxi plan, someone who notices when a mate is not okay, and an agreement that leaving early is allowed. None of this replaces professional help where it is needed. It is just basic care.

If alcohol is becoming less central to identity, then the alternative cannot be a new performance of perfect wellbeing. Nobody needs to swap a drinking contest for a 5am productivity contest. There is room for a late night, a lazy Sunday, a pub catch-up and a cold beer. The shift gets healthier only if people are allowed to choose what suits them without being mocked in either direction.

The latest data asks for humility

The 2023/24 Health Survey was widely cited for a five-year fall in hazardous drinking among 18 to 24-year-olds, from 35.8 percent to 22.6 percent. That was a real and substantial reported change. The 2024/25 release kept the adult total at 16.6 percent, but the reporting around its age breakdown showed why annual data needs to be read with care rather than turned into a victory parade. A single year can move. Subgroups can move differently from the national average. Survey results also come with confidence intervals and methodological context.

This is not statistical throat-clearing. It changes the cultural claim we should make. The evidence does not support “young people have solved drinking”. It supports “the norms around drinking are changing, while alcohol-related risk remains uneven and real”. That is less memeable, but it is more useful.

The national survey was collected from July 2024 to July 2025. It cannot settle what happened at every gig, flat party and staff function afterwards. It provides a better basis for conversation than assuming that whatever you see in your own circle applies to everyone else.

A bit of humility also protects against product-led nonsense. The arrival of better zero-alcohol drinks does not create a new moral hierarchy. Buying a premium no-alc drink is not proof of self-control. Drinking alcohol is not proof of failure. These are choices in a social environment, and the environment can be made easier or harder by the way friends, venues and workplaces respond.

How to make a mixed drinking group easy

If you are organising, keep the solutions practical. The goal is not to manage anyone’s personal life. It is to make all attendees feel expected.

• Put non-alcoholic options in the first shop, not on an emergency run. Buy enough cold water, soft drinks and whatever zero-alcohol options people actually like.
• Start with food. It changes the shape of a gathering and gives people something to do other than immediately accept a drink.
• Stop asking for a reason. “No thanks” and “I’ll have a zero” are complete sentences.
• Offer a ride plan before the night gets messy. Name the sober driver, bus, rideshare or sleepover option while everyone can still remember it.
• Do not make a drinking game the only activity. Cards, music, cooking, a quiz, a film, a walk to get chips, pool, whatever works. The bar for creativity is not high.
• Check in without theatrics. If someone is unusually quiet, upset, vomiting, unconscious or hard to wake, treat it as a welfare issue, not a chance to take a funny video. Call 111 in an emergency.

These are not revolutionary ideas. That is their strength. Culture changes through ordinary repetition. The person who brings decent zeroes, orders food, says they are heading home, or offers a lift makes it easier for the next person to do the same.

What a less automatic drinking culture looks like

The future of a Kiwi night out is not alcohol-free by decree. It is more flexible than that. It has people drinking, people alternating, people on water, people trying a zero-alcohol beer, people leaving at 10pm and people staying for the last song. It does not require anyone to make an identity statement out of a beverage choice.

The older rule was that alcohol made the social occasion legitimate. The emerging rule is less rigid: the occasion should be good enough to survive different drinking choices. That is a better test of friendship, hospitality and a venue’s imagination.

Gen Z has not solved alcohol. No generation has. But it has helped expose how odd the old expectation was: that the only way to prove you were up for a good time was to drink at the same speed as everyone else. A culture with more ways to say yes is one where it is also easier to say no.

Sources: Health New Zealand, Annual Update of Key Results 2024/25: New Zealand Health Survey; New Zealand Alcohol Beverages Council’s 2023/24 Health Survey summary and 2024 moderation report; 1News reporting on University of Otago research led by Dr Jude Ball; NZ Herald reporting on the 2024/25 survey; Drinkaware’s explanation of zebra striping; The Guardian’s 2025 reporting on generational drinking trends.

Sources

www.health.govt.nz

nzabc.org.nz

www.nzherald.co.nz

www.1news.co.nz

www.theguardian.com

nzabc.org.nz

www.drinkaware.co.uk

This journal is provided for general information and does not replace professional medical advice.