In neither case is he responsible for
what he suffers.

Neither can you cure this man by what is called moral suasion.
Moral suasion, if it amounts to anything, is the force of argument
--that is to say, the result of presenting the facts to the victim.
Now, of all persons in the world, the victim knows the facts. He
knows not only the effect upon those who love him, but the effect
upon himself. There are no words that can add to his vivid
appreciation of the situation. There is no language so eloquent
as the sufferings of his wife and children. All these things the
drunkard knows, and knows perfectly, and knows as well as any other
human being can know. At the same time, he feels that the tide
and current of passion are beyond his power. He feels that he
cannot row against the stream.

There is but one way, and that is, to treat the drunkard as the
victim of a disease--treat him precisely as you would a man with
a fever, as a man suffering from smallpox, or with some form of
indigestion. It is impossible to talk a man out of consumption,
or to reason him out of typhoid fever. You may tell him that he
ought not to die, that he ought to take into consideration the
condition in which he would leave his wife. You may talk to him
about his children--the necessity of their being fed and educated
--but all this will have nothing to do with the progress of the
disease. The man does not wish to die--he wishes to live--and yet,
there will come a time in his disease when even that wish to live
loses its power to will, and the man drifts away on the tide,
careless of life or death.

So it is with drink. Every nerve asks for a stimulant. Every drop
of blood cries out for assistance, and in spite of all argument,
in spite of all knowledge, in this famine of the nerves, a man
loses the power of will. Reason abdicates the throne, and hunger
takes its place.

_Question_. Will you state your reasons for your belief?

_Answer_. In the first place, I will give a reason for my unbelief
in what is called moral suasion and in legislation.

As I said before, for thousands and thousands of years, fathers
and mothers and daughters and sisters and brothers have been
endeavoring to prevent the ones they love from drink, and yet, in
spite of everything, millions have gone on and filled at last a
drunkard's grave. So, societies have been formed all over the
world. But the consumption of ardent spirits has steadily increas