I was on the wrong side of history.
During a high-profile public smoking fight years ago, I came out against a proposed ban in my home state by suggesting the measure was an overreach. Why should the state blunt my choice in using a perfectly legal substance, one that made the State of Georgia millions in tax dollars every year? Didn’t this same state endorse gambling with its lottery? Why was my vice deemed unacceptable?
The laws against public smoking, I argued, were too limiting of my personal freedom.
And I was wrong.
What I failed to realize was the public smoking debate wasn’t about me, the smoker; it was about the nonsmoker and their right to live and work free of harassment.
I was reminded of those (embarrassing) days last week while reporting on changes to the Smoke-Free Ontario Act, which will further extinguish smoking in many public places across the province. Starting Jan. 1, it will be illegal to smoke on bar and restaurant patios, playgrounds and public sports fields, as well as sell tobacco on university and college campuses.
These are nice, polite, incremental moves. But they change little. Like on this campus, many of those rules are in place. This just codifies them into law.
But if health officials are truly striving “to do everything we can to protect all Ontarians from the harmful effects of second-hand smoke,” half-measures will not suffice. If Ontario really desires to clear the air, a heavier hand is needed.
And when it comes to universities, that means demanding all campuses go smoke free.
Understand, I am not anti-smoker – far from it. I came of age in smoking newsrooms – an ashtray on each desk, a giant saucer of snuffed-out butts in the middle of the conference room table. I kicked the habit about a decade ago when I started a family. However, like Leonard Cohen, who returned to smoking in his ninth decade of life, I see an attraction of revisiting the affair when my end is too near to matter.
But today is an opportunity to put personal preferences aside for the greater good.
On Western’s campus, the new laws don’t change much – a patio here or there, no smoke sales at the Grad Club – but otherwise, business as usual. The university’s biggest problem areas – building entrances, especially those outside The D.B. Weldon Library and Support Services Building – remain untouched and unresolved.
Admittedly, this is a lot of pressure to put on Canadian universities. Already fighting wars on countless fronts, universities don’t want to unnecessarily open up another.
But if we are willing to take the stand, people will support it.
Earlier this year, CVS pharmacies stopped selling cigarettes, as the “sale of tobacco products is inconsistent with our purpose – helping people on their path to better health.” The company was willing to give up $2 billion of $125 billion in annual sales, all in order to do “the right thing.”
According to the Americans for Nonsmokers Rights, a leading antismoking lobbying organization, nearly 1,500 U.S. universities have gone smoke-free. Major Canadian universities have yet to buy into smoke-free campus policies. The exception, Dalhousie, instituted a smoke-free campus in 2003, the first major university in Canada to implement such a ban. In one survey, more than 82 per cent of Dalhousie community members supported the policy.
Despite these examples, however, the province needs to know most universities will not act alone. In the States, many schools have been forced into their changes – provided cover by new state laws that demanded campuses go smoke free.
Should Ontario summon similar courage? Probably so.
If we see universities as cultural leaders, pushing toward an enlightened view of the world and the workplace, then it is a no-brainer move. Smoking has become a civil rights issue for millions in the workplace. This step would clear the air on the issue for generations to come, and get this province on the right side of history before we regret it.