The potent emerald-green blend of wormwood, green anise and fennel, known as “the Green Fairy,” was once celebrated by the French society, including artists from Baudelaire to Van Gogh. By the early 1900s, France consumed more absinthe than the rest of the world put together. Yet within decades, it was banned and deemed a “national poison.”
What happened? Our analysis (recently published in Organization Studies of historical archives, newspapers, medical publications, and propaganda materials spanning 1870 to 1915, reveals a systematic scapegoating process which unfolds throughout three escalating cycles.
How absinthe became France’s public enemy
The process began with genuine social concerns surrounding the beverage, against a backdrop of alarming alcoholism rates, military defeat against Prussia, and anxieties about national decline.
Scientists, though their research was inconclusive, coined “absinthism” as a distinct pathology, claiming absinthe caused unique symptoms, including epilepsy and madness.
Here is where the dynamics become fascinating. Faced with growing anti-alcohol sentiment, producers of similar beverages – aperitifs made from nearly identical ingredients, such as anis, pastis and anisette, strategically distanced themselves from absinthe.
Advertising posters from the 1880s explicitly contrasted “healthy” tonics with “deadly” absinthe, showing death lurking behind absinthe drinkers, while beautiful women accompanied those choosing competing products. Wine producers joined the attack for economic reasons. After a devastating vine disease – phylloxera – had destroyed French vineyards, they needed to reclaim market share. Framing their struggle as patriotic – wine as French heritage versus absinthe as foreign poison – they allied with temperance movements and politicians.
Finally, even absinthe producers turned on each other. Producers from Pontarlier, the traditional production region, attacked “bad absinthe” from Paris, hoping to save themselves by sacrificing others. This internal fracturing sealed absinthe’s fate. When World War I broke out, the ban came swiftly, presented as a victory for French civilisation.
Our research identifies a recurring pattern. First, genuine social anxieties emerge, about health, national identity, public security. Then, a convenient target is identified, one similar enough to the “acceptable” actors to bear their sins, yet different enough to be expelled.
Crucially, potential scapegoats actively reposition themselves, joining the accusers to escape blame. This creates escalating momentum as the target group shrinks and attacks intensify. We term the pattern “stigma opportunity structures” – conditions that open windows for further targeting. France’s military defeat, the vineyard disease, and, eventually, war each facilitated the process.
Recognising modern day scapegoating
While the prohibition of absinthe in France in 1915 seems to be a distant historical episode, these dynamics remain disturbingly active today. Scapegoating operates as a powerful social mechanism. It often turns uncertainty, fear or political conflict into social blaming directed at certain persons or groups, based on thin, selective or simply false stories being told or repeated as if they were true. First and foremost, the effectiveness of scapegoating lies in that evidence is often beside the point for pointing fingers, creating moral panic,