The fag-end romantics can get as teary-eyed as they like. They can rhapsodise away about a puff of Embassy Regal mingled with a slurp of draft Tennent’s. Nobody should begrudge them their valedictory lament for the smoky Scottish pub.
There will always be those who moan when the world moves on. Some drinkers still rue the day that pubs introduced ladies’ loos. The fact remains that the March 26 smoking ban is overwhelmingly the right thing for Scotland, and for more reasons than might at first appear.
Take just one of the many statistics in the debate about the ban. In a Cancer Research opinion poll published last week, Scots aged between 18 and 24 were asked their views.
A remarkable 84% said a smoke-free Scotland was something to be proud of. Yes, that’s right, something done by politicians in the much-maligned Holyrood parliament had made young people proud of their country.
Maybe Jack McConnell, the first minister, was correct when he said recently that the smoking ban would have an effect far beyond the acknowledged health benefits. “More than anything,” he said, “the reason why smoking in public places should be illegal is because of the message it sends about our nation. No longer will Scotland be the place in Europe most associated with poor health, and no longer does Scotland need to wait for someone else to take responsibility for difficult decisions.”
Politics in devolutionary Scotland is rarely a matter of life and death. Usually the decisions of MSPs only affect our lives at the margins. Given their habitual cack-handedness, this is often something to be grateful for. This time, though, Scotland’s political leaders have done us proud, taking a courageous stand that they knew would be extremely unpopular with many diehard smokers (who also happen to be voters). This is what politicians are meant to do — put the national good ahead of political short-termism and narrow electoral considerations.
McConnell’s achievement stands in marked contrast with the mess Tony Blair’s cabinet made of the same issue, first proposing a lame halfway ban that would have allowed smoking to continue in private clubs or in pubs that didn’t serve food. Eventually the prime minister was forced to make an untidy U-turn, with England falling into line with Scotland. The habitual sneer found on the faces of Westminster MPs when they disparage Scotland’s parliament was suddenly missing.
Could this be the moment when Holyrood and the new Scottish government comes of age? The lesson for McConnell is that when he identifies a national malaise and tackles it head on, with plenty of careful planning and canny foresight, the result can make history books.
The strong political message from McConnell is unmistakable. Scottish devolution is entering a new phase, one where greater autonomy from London is likely to be the norm, in both politics and policy. March 26 could turn out to be a milestone for more than one reason.
Lives are going to be saved because of this political action by Holyrood — about 1,000 lives a year according to Harry Burns, Scotland’s chief medical officer. Many mothers, many fathers, many brothers and many sisters will have more years with their loved ones as a result. An estimated 13,000 people die of smoke-related illnesses every year in Scotland — that’s 35 people a day. About 1,000 of them are non-smokers suffering the effects of breathing other people’s smoke at home or at work.
Not only will lives be saved, many more lives will be improved. Illnesses will strike later in life, giving Scots more years of health. The bottom line is a simple one — Scots will be healthier, and for longer. This will be a touchstone achievement given Scotland’s appalling record on heart disease, cancer and stroke. It will also help tackle the country’s stark inequalities, where the average male life span in the Shettleston area of Glasgow, for example, is 63.9 years — a full 14 years less than in northeast Fife.
It is no coincidence that 50% of adults in Shettleston smoke compared with only 27% in northeast Fife.
These are not incidentals. They are fundamentals. Yet campaigners against the smoking ban, financed by a tobacco industry that stands to lose £310m a year, would rather have the “right” to a slim panatella with their Belhaven Best. Maybe an afternoon in one of Scotland’s cancer wards would change their minds. Or maybe not. They seem all too aware of the human cost and the potential for saving lives, but seem prepared to ignore it.
Many smokers in Scotland are taking a different attitude. One in four supports the ban — twice as many as a year ago. The Scottish executive propaganda bombarding television and radio urging people to quit fags is having an unprecedented effect. Last week 3,640 Scots called the Smokeline run by Health Scotland. Last year, during the long political debate and decision-making process about the ban, the number of Scots looking to government agencies for help to give up increased by 14% to 63,086. Many others tried to do it with willpower alone.
Evidence from Ireland, which banned smoking in bars and restaurants in October 2004, shows it can help people kick the habit. After 12 months, Ireland saw a 6% decrease in the number of smokers. In the crucial habit-forming age group of 15- to 18-year-olds, the reduction was 10%.
The fag-end romantics have nothing to fear. Having visited New York and Galway in the past year and popped into a smoke-free bar or two while I was there, I can vouch for the fact that a good pub is still a beguiling place, with or without the fug. The optics still gleam with promise. The wood of the bar still feels warm and welcoming to the touch. The craic still crackles.
Pub protocol is simply evolving to take account of the new circumstances. Over the years it has absorbed such developments as jukeboxes, electric tills, televisions, space invader tables, fruit machines (an unfortunate one, that), bottled lagers, plastic glasses and hot food. Cutting out the fags has been a cinch, with Irish and Americans enjoying the opportunities for flirting and bonding offered by new heated outdoor shelters.
Scotland’s bars will retain their allure. We still refer to “spit-and-sawdust pubs” even though the sawdust has long been replaced by a firm of contract cleaners. We still know what we mean. A smoky dive will still be a dive, in all its grimy glory.
The vital ingredient of pub life will be unchanged — the booze. After a few sherbets the average drinkers will still imagine they look like Bogart or Bacall, even without the Lucky Strike. The essence of the quintessential pub will remain — a beguiling combination of alcohol, argument, camaraderie and lost inhibitions. Memories of a night on the lash will not be smoky any more, but they will still be hazy.
