2 in 3 smokers wish they could stop and 9 in 10 wish they had never started. Photo: Getty
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Why we should ban the sale of cigarettes to people born after the year 2000

Someone who starts smoking at age 15 is three times more likely to die of tobacco related cancer than someone who starts in their mid-20s.

Humanity has never developed anything more deadly than the cigarette. The combination of its addictive power and devastating health effects, coupled with historical social norms and powerful advertising campaigns, killed 100 million people in the twentieth century. The World Health Organisation predicts that this continuing epidemic will kill a billion more in the twenty-first. Tobacco products cause the death of 50 per cent of their users and, for each death, 20 other people suffer from a smoking related disease. Allowing this cycle of addiction, suffering and death to continue is unconscionable.

One solution is to prohibit the sale of cigarettes to people born after the year 2000. As this generation reach 18 in 2018 they would be prevented from buying cigarettes for their lifetime in a move that would progressively phase out cigarette sales. This would have the effect of de-normalising smoking for an entire generation of children and slowly begin to reduce the harm caused by tobacco. Evidence published today in the Lancet shows the incredible effects that smoke-free legislation has had on child health, including reducing premature births and hospital attendances for asthma attacks. It’s time to apply the lessons from this evidence to the population as a whole.

This move may be unpopular among people who view banning the sale of cigarettes as a restriction of personal freedom. However, starting to smoke predominantly takes place in childhood and adolescence, as 80 per cent of smokers start in their teens. This decision is heavily influenced by peer pressure and a desire to appear more adult, rather than being dependent on rational choice. Almost 99 per cent of people think adolescents should be prevented from taking up smoking and to achieve this smoking must become socially unacceptable. This is particularly important as someone who starts smoking at age 15 is three times more likely to die of tobacco related cancer than someone who starts in their mid-20s. By the time smokers reach adulthood, the majority continue smoking to relieve the unpleasant sensation of nicotine withdrawal, rather than to gain any pleasurable effect from the nicotine itself. Addiction, by definition, cannot be an expression of free will. This is reflected in the fact that 2 in 3 smokers wish they could stop and 9 in 10 wish they had never started. If smoking were a true choice, there would be far fewer smokers in the world.

The inevitable comparison of this policy with alcohol prohibition in the 1920s is hard to ignore. However, substantial differences exist between the nature of alcohol and the nature of tobacco. Most people who smoke are nicotine addicts responding to withdrawal symptoms who wish they could stop. In contrast, the majority of people who drink alcohol do so recreationally for its pleasurable effects. Alcohol is substantially less addictive than nicotine and so a much smaller proportion of drinkers become alcoholics. If 90 per cent people who drank became alcoholics there would be total public outrage. In recognition of the harms caused by tobacco, over time there has been a supportive public response to tobacco legislation, including health warnings, advertising bans, smoke-free public places and preventing smoking in cars with children. It would be surprising to suddenly see a large proportion of the population take up clandestine smoking in response to this kind of ban, particularly as current smokers would be able to continue buying cigarettes without hindrance.

While smoking is still seen as socially acceptable in daily life and believed to be an expression of free will it is unlikely that there will be sufficient political will to call for an outright ban. However, this policy presents an opportunity to intervene for the generation who have not yet started smoking to prevent them from perpetuating the cycle of misery and suffering caused by nicotine addiction. It’s time to play the tobacco endgame and begin building the first smoke free generation.

Dr Tim Crocker-Buqué is a Speciality Registrar in Public Health Medicine

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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times