The abolishment of the Smart Card and its replacement with a free-for-all system has inevitably generated a lot of debate.

I say inevitably because this is the sort of thing that gets us all worked up; not the plight of sub-Saharan migrants or the bloodshed in Libya, but money.

But I’m hardly one who should utter moral platitudes for here I am, jumping on the bandwagon.

Since the system was introduced, Smart Card money was exclusively intended for making educational purchases (stationery, photocopies, computers).

However, all will acknowledge there has always been rampant abuse of the scheme, despite various efforts to curb such practices.

Only specialised outlets are granted the right to accept the Smart Card as a mode of payment.

Authorised merchants are mainly bookshops, stationeries and computer stores but there are also some clothing outlets (presumably because they sell briefcases and messenger bags).

Somehow, even a make-up shop was granted the right.

Carrying the very precious Smart Card machine is not enough. The privileged outlets are required to refuse payments by Smart Card if the product is quite clearly not an educational item (a cigarette lighter or a mobile phone, for instance).

It is not a foolproof system, opine the naysayers, but it is always better than a laissez-faire approach.

The Smart Card system has two fundamental problems.

The administrative costs cited by the government are not one of them, because €175,000 is but a drop in the ocean in the grand scheme of things.

First, there’s the discretion exercised by shopkeepers who will, sometimes, refuse to accept payment by Smart Card when the educational value of the item is doubtful, fearing that their rights would be suspended for selling unauthorised products.

Last year, for example, I wanted to replace my old keyboard with a new wireless one.

Different students have different needs

After a few minutes of theatrical shuffling and hesitation, the kid behind the counter regretfully informed me I had to pay in cash.

The item was apparently a gaming keyboard, as evidenced by the letters PS3 printed on the packaging, he said.

Reluctantly, I conceded, despite the fact that I have never owned a gaming console in my entire life.

This leads to the second issue. The educational value or otherwise of a product often depends on the manner in which it is actually used.

A laptop may be used to take notes in class, compile exam material and write a thesis but it may also serve to satisfy the most sordid of desires.

In reality, what matters is not whether the product has intrinsic educational value but whether it will assist students in their academic endeavours.

Of course, knowing exactly how and why a student is using a particular product is impossible, which is why the new system makes perfect sense.

Some students would not get through the exam period without a steady supply of energy drinks or coffee, for example, while others need caffeine tablets for the mandatory all-nighters.

A lot of students would probably go utterly mad were it not for occasional partying with friends.

Others need to clear their minds by lifting weights, or by having a go at a first-person shooter game, or playing a musical instrument.

The Smart Card scheme is based on the presumption that activities undertaken by students can be easily compartmentalised into two distinct piles: educational and non-educational.

This is ludicrous precisely because it ignores the basic reality that virtually anything may prove indispensable to a student.

A student’s performance is not solely dependent on access to broadband internet or a steady supply of pens and A4 paper.

If we are to accept that paying students as an incentive to further their education is a good thing (this is a separate discussion altogether), then we must also acknowledge that different students have different needs and should, thus, be free to spend the money in whichever way they consider most beneficial.

Nobody tells parents how to spend their children’s allowance; neither are unemployed people given instructions on how to spend their wages.

And, ultimately, a happy student is a productive student.

As the proverb goes: all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

Andrew Saliba is reading law.

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