The second chapter from Who’s Under the Influence? Spilling the History of Alcohol.
In 1994, a discovery was made that has forced archaeologists and historians alike to rethink what we knew about society’s humble beginnings—Göbekli Tepe.
Hidden beneath layers of dirt in southeastern Turkey, an ancient site was unearthed that has shaken the foundations of archaeology. Although archaeologists have only excavated approximately 5% of the site, current carbon dating indicates that Göbekli Tepe was created earlier than 9500 BCE, making it older than Stonehenge by about 6,000 years.
It turns out our ancestors weren’t just wandering hunter-gatherers; they were building monumental stone structures with intricate carvings, aligned with star and constellation formations much longer ago than we believed possible.
And what else have they found at Göbekli Tepe? An ancient brewery, of course.
Archaeologists uncovered massive stone basins at Göbekli Tepe, some capable of holding up to 160 litres, suggesting that these ancient humans were brewing a primitive form of beer. Yes, beer. Long before agriculture was supposedly a thing, our ancestors might have been gathering grain not just for bread, but for beer.
At the dawn of the Neolithic era, Göbekli Tepe was a place for worship, dancing, feasting, and almost certainly knocking back beer brewed from fermented wild grains—but not in the same manner we would today. This elixir would have been consumed with great reverence—something divine in every essence.
Archaeological evidence from sites like Raqefet Cave in modern-day Israel suggest the Natufians—a prehistoric culture—were already fermenting wild grains into a primitive form of beer, dating further back than Göbekli Tepe. This finding makes it safe to say, we’ve been drinking beer since at least the Ice Age.
That’s right, your ancestors have been drinking beer for at least 13,000 years!
Imagine life at least 13,000 years ago, and someone, somehow, stumbles upon something extraordinary: fermentation.
Picture someone leaving out a pile of grains in a bowl and it rains, or maybe some fruit in its juices a little too long. Instead of spoiling, the mixture began to bubble and change, transforming into a rudimentary brew. Whoever drank the first one must have been thirsty – it wouldn’t have looked pretty.
Nevertheless, this discovery was the start of humanity’s relationship with alcohol.
Here’s the simplified science: the fermentation process doesn’t just create alcohol – it also removes nasty bugs, bacteria and diseases from dirty water.
When water is mixed with grains, the brewing process kills off harmful pathogens that can make people sick. Microorganisms, particularly yeast, convert sugars into alcohol and carbon dioxide, creating a beverage that was safer to drink than untreated water.
Fermentation occurs over time and doesn’t necessarily require heat. While modern breweries have expert climate control systems during the brewing process, no fire is required for the fermentation process to begin.
And consider this for a moment… you didn’t need fire to brew the first beer; therefore, beer is likely older than bread. Let that sink in.
The idea that beer might be older than bread probably won’t be the last time you feel like fact-checking a story mid-chapter. This book doesn’t claim to deep dive into every aspect—we’re touching the surface of 13,000 years of alcohol history, aiming more to spark curiosity than unpack every gritty detail.
Grounded in research, historical accounts, artistic expression across the ages and a lifetime of fascination, this is a concise and accessible expression of how alcohol has helped shape human culture and civilisation. If a topic grabs you, you’ll find links and references at the back—pointing you to studies, books, researchers and experts like Patrick McGovern, who can walk you through the chemical origins of sugar fermentation in the primordial soup of life.
But we’ll leave the deep dives to the experts—because we’ve got a lot of ground to cover, and each chapter is worthy of a book on its own.
Was beer a happy accident, or was it a gift from the gods? We’ll never know. But one thing’s clear: this ancient process, whether it came by luck or as a blessing, didn’t just give us beer; it changed the way we lived, worked, and connected with each other.
What we do know is that it led to big shifts in how humans survived, socialised, and thrived. As we forge forward, you’ll see how beer was arguably the most important cornerstone of civilisation itself.
Obvious modern-day logic might be screaming at you: surely water must have been more important to our early survival than beer! And of course, you’re right – nothing is more important to our survival than clean water sources.
Clean water sources have shaped where we live, how we grow food, and the development of culture and industry. Yet, its quality and accessibility have not always been assured. The journey of water sanitisation is the story of our survival, ingenuity, progress… and alcohol.
In the earliest civilisations, humans relied on natural sources such as rivers, lakes, and rainwater. However, clean water was not universally accessible, and contamination often led to outbreaks of disease.
In ancient societies, the risk of consuming untreated water was mitigated with an ingenious solution: fermentation. Beer and wine were safer to drink than water because the fermentation process reduced harmful bacteria and pathogens, making the liquid far less likely to cause illness.
From ancient civilisation through to medieval Europe, ale became a staple of daily life, serving as the primary beverage due to its relative cleanliness and safety.
Ancient fermentation wasn’t without risks. Given the right (or wrong) conditions, a fungus known as ergot can develops on grains that are used in the fermentation process making beer.
Here’s the thing about ergot: too much, and it could be fatal—just the right amount, and it unleashed effects similar to LSD, sparking vivid visions and intense psychedelic experiences.
This potent fungus made early brewing a powerful—sometimes dangerous—gateway to altered states of consciousness and, in the eyes of the ancients, a direct communion with the divine… but that’s for Part III of the book.
The connection between water quality and health became a focus for innovation during the Age of Enlightenment. In the 18th century, cities began implementing rudimentary water systems to supply clean water. Sand filtration, pioneered in Scotland in the early 19th century, became a key method for treating water. Until then, rudimentary beers and ales – with a much lesser alcohol content than we are use today – were your go-to for something safe to drink.
In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, technological advancements transformed water sanitisation. The widespread adoption of chlorination in the early 1900s revolutionised public health, dramatically reducing waterborne diseases like typhoid and other nasty bacteria that lead to infections like dysentery. The development of municipal water systems, which combined filtration and chemical treatment, ensured safer drinking water for growing urban populations.
Accessible clean water is a privilege we take for granted today. When you consider the first modern tap system was only introduced in London about 200 years ago, clean running water is a relatively new luxury—especially when compared to the Middle Ages or Göbekli Tepe.
Contemplate for a moment that countries like Bahrain and Saudi Arabia, with historical roots stretching back to the Bronze Age (around 3000 BCE), have no natural freshwater rivers or lakes as sources of drinking water. How can a society survive—let alone thrive—without access to fresh water?
Long before it became a prerequisite for every college frat party and backyard barbecue, beer was a necessity for survival. Its origins weren’t about pleasure; they were about practicality.
Fermentation, that magical alchemical process, was likely born from necessity—a solution to the problem of having no fresh water.
In a world teeming with disease, beer began life as a human lifeline rather than a luxury.
And so, in the absence of fresh water, society not only survived—it innovated. Beer turned life’s most basic challenge into an opportunity, proving that even in the harshest environments, human ingenuity can find a way.
Sure, beer and wine are great fun, but originally, fermentation had a more serious purpose: survival. Without fridges or supermarkets, keeping food fresh was nearly impossible, so people learned to ferment it instead. As our understanding of fermentation evolved, it allowed us to turn grains, milk, and fruits into staples like bread, cheese, and yogurt. Fermentation not only made sources of sustenance last longer but also made them safer to eat.
Before the 19th century, people didn’t know why or how fermentation worked; they thought this natural force was magic or a gift passed down from some higher power. This all changed when a scientist named Louis Pasteur came along and figured it out. He discovered that tiny organisms called yeast were behind the magic. These yeast cells would feed on the sugars in grains or fruits and produce alcohol and carbon dioxide.
In the 1860s, Pasteur was contracted by the French government to address a pressing issue—why wine was spoiling when it was sent to soldiers. France’s wine industry, a symbol of national pride and a critical export, faced growing pains as wine often turned sour during transportation.
Pasteur discovered that microscopic contaminants were to blame and devised a solution: heating the wine to a specific temperature to kill off harmful microorganisms without altering its flavour. This process, now called pasteurisation, saved the wine industry and ensured French soldiers could enjoy a drinkable product on the front lines.
This discovery transformed how we look at fermentation—it wasn’t magic after all, but a natural process involving tiny living organisms.
Thanks to Pasteur, fermentation went from an ancient mystery to a reliable science that supported the commercialised growth of industries like brewing and baking. Although science has explained it all today, fermentation undoubtably still holds some of its magic.
As agriculture developed, people built larger towns and cities, fermented foods and drinks were central to their social lives. Beer and wine weren’t just things to drink alone; they were drinks shared during feasts, celebrations, and rituals.
Some ancient societies even used beer as a form of payment. In Egypt, for example, workers were given daily rations of beer, which kept them energised and happy enough to build those giant structures. But we’ll get to the Egyptian beer wars and their terracotta parties later.
Fermented drinks brought local people together and connected entire cultures. As trade grew, beer and wine travelled far and wide, making their way to new lands and becoming valuable trade items. Sharing these drinks helped bridge cultural divides, spreading a shared love for fermented creations across different regions.
Whether it was chance, destiny, or a gift from the divine, fermentation has been here from the beginning and became the spark that lit the fuse of civilisation. What started as a survival skill, soon turned into something far more powerful — fuel for the first cities, empires, and everything that came after.
Everything you thought you knew about alcohol’s role in society has been watered down.
Alcohol’s history is a cocktail of stories about mankind—incessantly shaking up traditions, mixing definitions, straining symbols of devotion, and pouring them into new vessels to match the tastes of the day. It’s often refreshing, sometimes sweet, and occasionally bitter. Although change is the only constant, spirited origins linger—hidden in every glass, diluted, and sometimes hard to swallow.
Who’s Under the Influence? is an entertaining, fast-paced and often irreverent revisionist remix of booze’s true impact on the world. Our obsession with alcohol has fuelled economies, ignited revolutions, and shaped cultures across history—not just what we drink, but how it’s been sold, controlled, and mythologised.
This is not the history you were taught in Catholic school.
From ancient temples to modern boardrooms, Who’s Under the Influence? reveals how alcohol has been used to empower, deceive, and transform society. Behind every sip, every toast, and every prohibition law is a story far stranger than fiction.
Whether you’re a history buff, a spirit’s enthusiast, or just someone who enjoys a good drink and a better story, this book will change the way you see what’s in your glass—and who put it there.
This is the perfect book for anyone looking for some new and sometimes outrageous stories to share over happy hour.
Over my professional career, I’ve had the opportunity to consult with Australia’s largest alcohol corporations and many independent beer, wine, and spirits businesses, developing and implementing brand marketing strategies.
While at university, I worked in frontline hospitality roles, managing bars, clubs, restaurants, and cafés—I was more passionate about serving drinks than my studies. My mother eventually convinced me to get a ‘haircut and a real job.’
I remember my first shift as a bartender vividly. A scorching 40-degree Australian afternoon. Getting a tour of the bar, the manager opened the fridge to find last week’s strawberries still in their punnet—too old for a garnish but too good to waste.
“Let me show you how to make the perfect Strawberry Daiquiri.” Bartenders, ever the opportunists, turning a tutorial into the perfect summer drink.
“Grab that rum, those cut limes, the syrup, and fill the blender with ice.” He demonstrated the precise liquid-to-ice ratio to achieve the perfect consistency.
“Do you see that green liqueur on the top shelf?” pointing to a bottle of Chartreuse.
“Just a dash is all you need, but first, look at the bottle for a moment—see the date on that? 1605. Can you name another item in any store that has remained unchanged for 400 years? Older than sliced bread, that is.”
And he was right. Chartreuse predates the first sale of sliced bread in 1928 by more than 300 years.
Now, most bartenders wouldn’t normally put Chartreuse in a Strawberry Daiquiri. But that’s the thing about mixing drinks—it’s always been about exploration, experimentation, innovation, and interpretation, with a dash of personal taste. One thing’s for sure: he knew how to make a damn good Daiquiri.
The history of alcohol is a story of mankind continuously shaking up traditions, mixing definitions, straining symbols of devotion, and pouring them into new containers for the people of the day. It’s often refreshing, sometimes sweet, and occasionally bitter. Yet the weight of its origins carries on, diluted beneath the surface.
Unlikely themes and topics continuously intersect and connect across the world of alcohol. Like that Green Chartreuse, crafted by Carthusian monks in France—a 110-proof liqueur created from devotion and worship—finding its place in a decadent and wicked Daiquiri.
This is just the tip of the iceberg (or Daiquiri) when it comes to the surprising, seemingly contradictory, and largely overlooked connections between alcohol and the evolution of our society.
This book stems from lifelong fascinations with alcohol, marketing, and mythology—when tied together in a narrative, they paint a completely different picture of how we got to where we are today. This is not the history you were taught in Catholic school.