To Smoke or Not to Smoke

According to KRED, "It is likely that the will be a campus-wide smoking ban in force by next year". Journalistically speaking, this is probably a time to mimic the Greeks; Plato's great oratorical style of “Thesis", "Antithesis" and "Synthesis" is an admirable system, though perhaps less desirable than the chambers in which pale young boys would be kept for buggery in his homoerotic Eden. What are the arguments "for" and "against", one might wonder, let us speak to those whose lives have been irrevocably damaged by smoking, let us pole the highways and byways of Kent University for balanced and accessible commentaries. This system is time-honoured, a quivering glutinous mass of bias covered by a membrane of indignant sophistry, and quite inappropriate to this intensely complex issue.

In halls, the university holds full dominion. They may, as any right-minded landlord has the right to, bar its tenants from supping the ashen weed, and perhaps even, hypothetically, it should. However, in reality, stemming the constant hot-water flow from the baths in the more arcane corners of Keynes would be time better spent. If I wish to drink in the majestic splendour of Kent's calcium-rich water table, I may pay a modestly exorbitant bus-fee to travel to coast and admire the cliffs. Such qualities are less attractive when viewed as stalactites depending from shower nozzles and bath taps. I do not wish to get side-tracked from the issue, but to urinate in cold terror before a questionably-secured door with an inch-wide gap and to return to one’s room, one’s sanctuary, light a relaxing cigarette only to hoisted from ecstasy by an officious knock to the door represents a less than appealing evening.

Anyway, back to the lush, verdant pastures of hypothesis, where micturition is leisurely and assured, and the taps rain nought but water. For the sake of present neighbours and future occupants, perhaps smoking should be banned; the benefits would be read clearly in atmosphere, attitude and health. Where I have more of a problem is with the implications of a "campus-wide" cessation. The idea that, having been all a-toil in the library, I may not, upon attaining egress, light up a cigarette, calmly walk to my room, blowing small volumes of smoke into the evening air and then deposit the article suitably in a bin, is repulsive.

I suppose one's perspective of the issue is formed by if one is a smoker, a non-smoker or an ex-smoker. It may seem eminently sensible to the latter two groups for a ban to be enforced. Perhaps they dislike the smell and the squalor, which is fair enough, and very much their prerogative; perhaps they couldn't care less in which case the same is true. The point here is that non-smokers should hold no sway over the issue at all as it doesn't concern them. I am a smoker but occasionally I lapse into abstention, and on these occasions smoking does take on extra resonance. I may wrinkle my nose or wave away a bilious billow was a fussy hand; I may even find it offensive. But here is the thing: on those occasions, it should have no say in the matter either. If it happens in my room, I may ask them to leave, if it happens in public I should move on; it should, in essence be my compromise.

Why should this be? Why should honest, law-abiding people change their lives to allow people to assault their lungs in greater peace? It is absurd. Such is life. If I see someone eating a burger, should I ask them to depart elsewhere to shorten their life? If a student slumps upon a bench next to me outside the campus shop with a bottle of Jack Daniels (let us assume he has mischievous look in his eye that resounds through the infinite with the phrase "Traffic Cone"), should I pester that student?

Ultimately, a human life, be it spent in idleness or usefulness, is lived as a battery chicken: alongside many others of equal importance. Under the influence of drink, someone may crash their car into a young family, they may damage their liver, they may become violent, they may become stupid, and rob the world of a brilliant mind. Every gust of wind marks our skin; every moment spent in idleness distends our bodies in some infinitesimal way. This is an abstraction, of course, but can be related back to smoking thusly: cigarettes make this gradual disintegration apparent in a way which other abuses of our bodies do not, particularly alcohol. Non-smokers cannot appreciate the benefit that smoking brings to the smoker and therefore assume that it is a vice that can be safely done away with. Nonsense.

Morally, smoking should not be banned in a place that binge drinking, unprotected sex, sloth and idiocy are so rampant. It would be unfair to the smokers and of questionable benefit to non-smokers. More than this, it won't work; the scheme will fall flat on its arse.

There will be signs, perhaps at the entrances and throughout proudly proclaiming that Kent University is "A smoke-free campus", perhaps there will prim reminders posted outside buildings. Essentially, if someone wants to smoke whilst sat on a bench outside Eliot, then they will, perhaps even use the aforementioned signs to extinguish the item, given the lack of suitable receptacles. If a ban is in force, will the cigarette disposal tins be removed? This will just mean more cigarettes left on the floors, making the campus far less attractive. Will they stay? This will help the campus aesthetic but also encourage smoking. The issue is ultimately insoluble, unenforceable, morally reprehensible and, at it's dark heart, profoundly hypocritical.

The problem of smoking is enormously complex, Byzantine pathways of guilt, responsibility and bias beset its resolution. Let us look (begrudgingly) at Mungos, wherein smoking is allowed in the bar area, removed from the civilised world of flapjacks and sofas next door. Passage between the two areas is free, billows of smoke pass happily through, yet it is the illusion of segregation that seems desirable. If some limit, however transparent, is erected, then it appeases those who were mentioned above, those who are offended by the material fact, the existence of smoking.

For all this, by enforcing a smoking ban on campus, the university would be over-stepping its bounds and entering an ethical world into which it has no business treading. Should unprotected sex be banned on campus? Should a steward be posted in each bar, observing which couples seem likely to copulate, then escort them to their preferred venue and slip a condom onto the male's genitalia? "Hell, No" I hear you cry, "it is a matter of personal responsibility", which is untrue. One of the partners may be carrying an STD and pass it unbeknownst to the other who's health may be irreparably damaged. The health impacts are far worse than spending a few hours, three-nights a week for three years in a bar in which people may be smoking nearby.

Ah, a solution presents itself to this issue. People may apply to an office in Rutherford cloisters, suitably shrouded by darkness and guilt, for an "unprotected sex" pass (perhaps this duty could be doubled with the live music office to save on administrative overheads?) The owner of this pass (once certain medical enquiries have been made) may copulate freely with any other pass-holder. Splendid. Or is it bollocks? Yes, and so is any attempt made to restrict other enjoyable activities that endanger our health.

By J.L Cranfield