The third chapter from Who’s under the influence? Spilling the History of Alcohol.
Before there were towering temples or bustling cities, humans were nomads, wandering in search of food. Then, one magical day, our ancestors discovered fermentation. This potential “oops” moment in history turned dirty water mixed with grain into a safe, drinkable concoction—that also happened to provide a warm buzz (and the odd ergot-induced psychedelic experience).
Beer was a necessity rather than a nice-to-have. Calorie-dense, nutrient-packed, and, most importantly, safer than drinking straight from the local swamp. Primitive beer kept you hydrated, nourished, and simply put, alive for longer. Historians now believe the desire for a steady supply of beer led humans to settle down, plant barley, and kickstart agriculture.
Beer was such an influence, it anchored the very first communities.
Beer isn’t a byproduct of civilisation—it was a driving force behind it.
Thanks to beer, agriculture was born.
Before Egypt, Greece, Persia or Rome became powerhouses of the ancient world, across the way, there was a place called Mesopotamia.
Mesopotamia is such a pivotal moment in time for the human race, its nickname is The Cradle of Civilisation.
If you haven’t heard of Mesopotamia before, perhaps you’ve heard of Babylon?
Think of Babylon as the Hollywood of Mesopotamia. With its giant walls, hanging gardens, and ancient irrigation systems, Babylon became the stuff of legends. An extinct city with a name still commonly heard today.
Babylon rose to prominence around 2300 BCE but was abandoned and fell into ruin around the 2nd century CE after being conquered by the Persian Empire.
But before Babylon rose to ancient fame, another part of Mesopotamia was doing the heavy lifting for society: a place called Sumer.
Babylon and Sumer are kind of like the Hemsworth brothers. Liam, the Sumer of the family, got the family name going in The Hunger Games—then Chris swooped in with some muscles and a big hammer, stealing the limelight and most of the credit.
Like almost everything in ancient history, it’s debated when people first started settling down in Sumer. What we do know is that by around 4500–4000 BCE, in the land between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers—modern-day Iraq—the first civilisation had taken root.
This was more than a farming settlement; it was a place of temples, grain silos, and, most importantly, the hero of our story: beer.
Beer was so central to Sumerian life that it became a kind of currency. The people here gathered in early taverns to drink, bond, and share tales over their communal brew.
Beer was a refreshing glue that held society together.
In fact, Sumer’s love for beer was so strong they needed to keep track of it. So, they worked out how to count and invented one of the world’s first writing systems, cuneiform.
Writing wasn’t initially born from the lofty ideals of poetry or philosophy—it was born from the need to keep track of beer.
In Sumer, humanity first learned to count, and then to account for things on clay tablets. Soon after (if you consider 900 years later “soon”), people began to express themselves in written form. The Sumerians started capturing the beauty of their world in written words.
The first hymns were then pressed into clay tablets in cuneiform script. And what do you think some of the oldest known hymns were about? Well, let’s just say it starts with a ‘B.’ If you’re thinking of golden and frothy nectar, central to the Sumerian way of life, you’re on the right track.
One of the oldest known written hymns is a hymn dedicated to an ancient character named Ninkasi, the Sumerian goddess of beer.
Ninkasi played a central role in their culture. Her father was the god of water and wisdom, and her mother was the goddess of healing and life.
Ninkasi represented the perfect mix of practicality and spirituality. The hymn demonstrates that beer was essential for daily life and considered a gift from the gods to the Sumerians. Ninkasi symbolised community, joy, and abundance, making her a key figure in their mythology. Her importance shows just how deeply brewing was tied to both survival, celebration and spirituality in the ancient world.
Written around 1800 BCE, the Hymn to Ninkasi is a religious ode that also doubles as a recipe, detailing the brewing process in poetic form. The hymn to Ninkasi describes how barley bread was crumbled, soaked, and fermented to produce a rich, intoxicating drink. Interestingly the hymn also mentions brewing the beer with honey and wine. Scholars can’t agree if honey and wine were actually included in the beer, or if it was a symbolic reference of how sacred beer was. Honey was rare and highly valued commodity, while wine was imported or grown in select regions and was associated with royalty, temples, and the upper class. Like all ancient history, it is always someone’s interpretation of the limited facts we have on hand.
It is clear however, the numerous mentions of the process ‘founding towns’ and ‘building great walls’ is evidence of how important beer was to the earliest stages of creating civilisation.
Writing has always been used to preserve essential knowledge. In this case, how to brew a good beer and remind the world just how important beer was to building society.
Given birth by the flowing water ……, tenderly cared for by Ninhursaja!
Having founded your town upon wax, she completed its great walls for you.
Ninkasi, having founded your town upon wax, she completed its great walls for you.
Ninkasi, your father is Enki, Lord Nudimmud, and your mother is Ninti, the queen of the abzu.
Ninkasi, it is you who handle the …… and dough with a big shovel, mixing, in a pit, the beerbread with sweet aromatics.
Ninkasi, it is you who bake the beerbread in the big oven, and put in order the piles of hulled grain.
Ninkasi, it is you who water the earth-covered malt; the noble dogs guard it even from the potentates (?).
Ninkasi, it is you who soak the malt in a jar; the waves rise, the waves fall.
Ninkasi, it is you who spread the cooked mash on large reed mats; coolness overcomes …….
Ninkasi, it is you who hold with both hands the great sweetwort, brewing it with honey and wine.
Ninkasi, ……. You …… the sweetwort to the vessel.
Ninkasi, you place the fermenting vat, which makes a pleasant sound, appropriately on top of a large collector vat.
Ninkasi, it is you who pour out the filtered beer of the collector vat; it is like the onrush of the Tigris and the Euphrates.
The Hymn to Ninkasi is one of the oldest pieces of writing ever found—it’s not in perfect condition. Where the hymn includes a (?) or ……, it indicates some uncertainty or ambiguity on the part of the translator, due to thousands of years of wear and tear.
The Hymn to Ninkasi also references several important figures from Sumerian mythology, grounding the brewing process in their divine mythology.
Enki (Lord Nudimmud)
The Sumerian god of water, wisdom, and creation, Enki is a central figure in myths involving life, civilisation, and innovation. Known as Lord Nudimmud meaning “the creator”, the title emphasises his role as a divine craftsman and bringer of order. Associated with the Abzu—underground freshwater source—Enki embodies life-giving properties of water essential for survival.
Ninti (The Queen of the Abzu)
Ninti, referred to as the “Lady of the Rib” or “Lady of Life,” is both a goddess of healing and creation and the mother of Ninkasi. Explicitly called “The Queen of the Abzu,” reflects her connection to the life-sustaining water. Ninti’s role in healing and vitality resonates with the themes of nourishment and life—qualities also embodied in beer. Her presence in the hymn emphasises the sacred connection between water, life, and brewing.
Ninhursaja
In Sumerian mythology, Ninhursaja is a mother goddess associated with fertility, creation, and nurturing life. In the Hymn to Ninkasi, she is described as having “tenderly cared for” Ninkasi during her upbringing. This suggests that while Ninkasi’s biological parents are identified as Enki and Ninti, Ninhursaja played a significant maternal or guardian role. Her presence emphasizes the nurturing and life-giving qualities essential to Ninkasi’s divine character as the goddess of beer. Ninhursaja’s association with fertility and sustenance complements the hymn’s broader themes of creation, life, and nourishment.
Together, these divine figures elevate the act of brewing to something far beyond simple human labour. Beer was a gift from the gods, a product of sacred collaboration between earth, water, and wisdom itself.
The Drink of the Gods
We already know beer was more than just a drink; other than being the cleanest form of hydration, it was also a way to connect with the divine. The Sumerians believed their gods enjoyed beer as much as they did.
In Sumerian festivals, people offered beer to the gods, hoping to gain their favour. Brewing itself was seen as a sacred act, one that brought people closer to their deities, as well as their surrounding community.
The earthly pleasure of the people, beer was also the drink of the gods, immortalised in hymns and rituals.
Literature had begun, but Sumerians didn’t just whisper sweet nothings to the beer goddess and keep track of beer recipes; they also made sure to write down a zinger or two as well!
It’s clear the Sumerians took beer seriously, and they took jokes seriously too. Serious enough to be the first to write them down! Here’s the world’s oldest “walks into a bar” joke, coming to you straight from ancient Sumer…
A blind dog walks into a bar, sniffing around a closed door, and asks: “Shall I open this?”
Ah… Guess you had to be there?
Scholars think this may play on the idea of the tavern doubling as an ancient brothel, suggesting the dog’s curiosity about what’s behind closed doors. A blind dog, after all, might be the only thing you’d feel remotely comfortable looking at what’s going on behind that door – unable to see or tell the tale to anyone else.
Sure, after 4,000 years, a little something is to be expected to get lost in translation.
We know the Babylonians loved that joke, maintaining these Sumerian joke tablets (not funny pills), long after Sumer had fallen. The tablets also endured Babylon’s capture by the Persian Empire in 539 BCE and another lazy 2,500 years after that.
The fact this joke is found on two ancient tablets, means they really, really liked it. Remember, writing something on a clay tablet was significantly trickier than sharing a joke on online, sending a text to a friend, or creating a meme. It was a big deal.
The setup and punchline might sound strange to us, but it reminds us that humour transcends time—it has always been a part of human culture. While we may struggle to make sense of the punchline today, would a Sumerian understand our humour?
Let’s road test the more common “walks into a bar” jokes for a Sumerian…
A horse walks into a bar,
The bartender says, “why the long face?
You’d think a Sumerian would get it… but, no. Horses didn’t make it to the middle east from Asia for another 2000 years… however they did have donkeys. Change horse to donkey and Sumerian might find this pretty amusing.
A Grasshopper walks into a bar,
The bartender says, “We’ve got a drink named after you!”
The Grasshopper replies, “What, Nigel?”
Grasshoppers did exist in in Mesopotamia! A close relative of those biblical pests, the locust. However, the cocktail as we know it, is a long way away and there ain’t no Crème de Menthe in ancient Sumer.
A duck walks into a bar and orders a beer.
The bartender asks, “how are you going to pay for it?”
The duck says, “Just put it on my bill.”
Ducks were around in Mesopotamia. Living on land, in air and the water, they were regarded as scared animals. Sumerians created counting and were the first to account beer allocations in cuneiform; however, I doubt they’d understand the double-sided mean of the word “bill” in English. That’s another no.
It’s agreed, a Sumerian wouldn’t think you’re funny either.
Mesopotamia’s known as the “Cradle of Civilisation” for good reason. From establishing agriculture and inventing counting, through to being the first to romance beer goddesses with OG poetry, the people between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers pioneered society and beer was the driving force behind the innovation.
We now know the birth of writing wasn’t about romance or philosophy; it was pure logistics. Beer needed tracking, and so writing was born. Before there were books or epic literature (which also came from the cradle), there were poems… about beer recipes and beer goddesses.
Imagine a society looking at a field full of harvested barley and thinking, “This would move faster if we didn’t have to carry it by hand.” By around 3500 BCE, the Sumerians had invented the wheel, first for pottery and then for transport. Because of course, you needed something to keep your beer in before there was a need to move it around. The wheel was a technological leap towards the first a Mesopotamian beer run.
These folks came up with what is called the base-60 system, which made time and geometry possible. Why? Because trade deals and grain measurements required a little more accuracy than “around this much.” Thanks to Sumerians counting beer and barley, we now measure time in 60s: 60 seconds a minute and 60 minutes a happy hour.
The Code of Hammurabi (circa 1754 BCE) is one of the first lists of “dos and don’ts” for civilisation. This is where the term “An eye for an eye” came from. It wasn’t just about keeping peace—it was also about making sure nobody was selling dodgy beer or skimming off the top. Beer was serious business, and the law made sure everyone got their fair pour.
To keep up with demand, Mesopotamians invented the plough. Fields grew, and so did the barley supply. This wasn’t just food security—it was beer security. As every Sumerian knew, good beer was good for society—and more beer was better.
The plough was just the beginning. Beer, arguably the original holy water, needed a steady supply. Mesopotamians got down to business with advanced irrigation to ensure they could keep up with demand and maintain consistency. Barley became their golden crop, fields became riverside marvels, and society blossomed—all so they could keep the grains growing and fermented drinks flowing.
These guys watched the stars and invented the first calendar to plan their lives around farming and brewing. They divided time into minutes and seconds—not so we could stress about deadlines, but so the barley was planted, harvested, and brewed right on schedule, aligned with the sun, stars and sky.
They tracked the heavens, reading the cosmos like a recipe book to predict the seasons. Why? So they knew when to plant barley for their brews. Before horoscopes were about your love life, they were about understanding the best time to bring beer to life.
Mesopotamians figured out how to make bronze tools that made farming, cooking, and, yes, brewing a lot easier. A good bronze vessel kept the taste of their beer rich and steady, while metal ploughs got the barley planted faster.
By around 3500 BCE, Mesopotamians had started crafting glass objects—beads, small containers, you name it. Although glass beer bottles were a future invention, this was the beginning. Mesopotamians set the stage for humanity’s obsession with seeing if the glass was half full or half empty.
The Sumerians figured out that boats with sails moved faster than those with paddles, and those boats carried beer far and wide. Sailboats transformed the Tigris and Euphrates into beer highways, spreading the good stuff wherever the wind could take it.
The real hero. The societal glue. A religious offering. The inspiration for writing, agriculture, and even civilised community. No beer, no civilisation. Beer wasn’t just life’s backdrop—it was the main act.
From the invention of the wheel to writing and even legal codes, Mesopotamia’s greatest hits all centre around beer. Barley and the brews it birthed were the original social and economic glue, the power behind civilisation’s rise. So, next time you lift a glass, remember—without beer, if you were here at all, you might still be carrying grain on your back.
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 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.