In 1914, Russia Banned Vodka to Curb Alcoholism. It Was a Disastrous Decision

There’s an unconfirmed legend that, when Nazi Germany surrendered in 1945, the celebration in the Soviet Union became one of the wildest drinking sprees in history. According to the story, Victory Day triggered something close to a nationwide alcoholic blackout, with the entire country reportedly running out of vodka in just 24 hours.

True or not, it tracks. The country had just come off a prohibition era—and it had been a disaster.

An ancestral relationship. As The Atlantic explains, Russia’s deep connection to alcohol has religious and political roots. In 988, Vladimir I Sviatoslavich chose Orthodox Christianity, in part because it didn’t prohibit alcohol like Islam did. By the 16th century, Ivan the Terrible had established the first state-run taverns, or kabaks, turning alcohol into a government-controlled monopoly. Within decades, a third of Russian men were in debt to these state taverns.

Peter the Great doubled down in the 18th century. Not only did he tolerate rampant alcoholism, but he punished women who tried to pull their husbands from the taverns. He also drafted drunk, indebted men straight into the army. By the 19th century, nearly half the Russian state’s revenue came from vodka sales. Alcohol wasn’t a societal byproduct—it was a cornerstone of the empire’s finances.

So, when the tsar decided to cut it off, the consequences were bound to be severe.

Imperial abstinence. As Time notes, Russia’s prohibition predates America’s by several years and remains one of Nicholas II’s most consequential decisions. In September 1914, shortly after the death of his cousin Prince Oleg Konstantinovich in battle, the tsar sent a telegram to his uncle Konstantin, announcing the end of state vodka sales.

It may have come from personal grief or moral conviction. Either way, the decision dismantled a core pillar of the empire’s economy. For centuries, the state had relied on alcohol sales for up to a third of its revenue. Just as World War I began, Nicholas pulled the plug, triggering a financial crisis and undermining what little social trust remained between the crown and the people.

A strategy that backfired. The ban wasn’t just about morals—it was military strategy. After the Russo-Japanese War of 1905, where alcoholism among soldiers played a key role in Russia’s defeat, the government wanted to project discipline and efficiency. Prohibition was meant to sober up the army and improve mobilization. In the short term, it worked. Russia quickly raised troops and scored early wins.

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But the cost was steep. Millions of people lost access to their daily vice, with no compensation or support. Peasants, workers, and soldiers grew resentful, widening the gap between the regime and its citizens.

A financial meltdown. Tsar Nicholas appointed reformist Peter Bark as finance minister, but Bark couldn’t replace the massive revenue lost from alcohol sales. With few options, the government turned to printing money—spurring hyperinflation and accelerating the collapse of the wartime economy.

Meanwhile, reports of economic success were faked, even as basic goods became scarce and the ruble lost value. On the ground, things were chaotic: train cars meant to deliver grain to the front were commandeered by distillers desperate to export unsellable vodka to France, Japan—anywhere. The fragile rail network collapsed under the strain.

From Tsarism to Bolshevism. Ironically, the prohibition didn’t end with the tsar. It survived through the Provisional Government and into the early Bolshevik regime. Russian revolutionary Vladimir Lenin defended it as a matter of principle, arguing that socialism built on alcohol sales was a betrayal of revolutionary values.

During the Civil War, sobriety and discipline were ideals of the new order. But after Lenin’s death, profit won out. Stalin revived the state vodka monopoly—now stamped with the hammer and sickle—and reinstated many of the empire’s old revenue practices under a new ideological flag. The prohibition era faded quickly from memory, replaced by familiar patterns of consumption and taxation.

A moral gamble that failed. In the end, Russian prohibition was less a public health campaign than a moral experiment. And it failed—spectacularly. It showed what can happen when power moralizes instead of governments, especially during crisis. The tsar hoped to save the soul of his people. Instead, he lost the throne.

The vodka ban helped unravel the fragile threads holding the Russian Empire together. It became a cautionary tale of how a well-meaning—but economically catastrophic—policy can backfire, especially when enacted by a regime already on the brink.

So, whether or not the 1945 vodka blackout happened exactly as told, one thing’s clear: Sometimes, in Russia, vodka isn’t just a drink. It’s the difference between a regime that holds together—and one that falls apart.

Image | Nathan Powers (Unsplash)

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