The burden of proof

To deal with the ongoing problem of underage drinking in this country, the government created the National Age Card in 1999. It is a form of identification for students to be used as an alternative to important documents like passports or driver’s licences, the point being that they are affordable and can be replaced easily.
So far, so good. The National Age Card is a great idea, and, as most students will tell you, generally it works very well. However, as with a lot of efforts by our dear government, it is not the most well-thought-out scheme and small, essential details have been overlooked.
To start with, there’s the application process. On paper, it’s simple enough: upon reaching 18, you fill out a form either obtained from a garda station or downloaded from the web, then bring it in to your local station along with two passport photos and two forms of identification, one being your birth cert. Once this has gone through, you sit back and wait up to 12 weeks for your card to arrive. Spot the problem?
The fact that you must wait until you reach 18 to apply and then wait a further 12 weeks to obtain the card is quite ridiculous. This leaves a three-month gap between becoming the age at which you are legally allowed to drink and the time you can produce the national proof to be able to drink. Surely an age card shows the holder’s age and therefore can be safely issued to a 17-year-old who has applied early? Apparently not, and so the rule remains. Just ask Alan Duffy, who merely wanted to get the application form the day before his 18th birthday and who was told to come back when he was 18!
The second hitch in this process is the fact that one must apply in his or her local garda station. Not everyone has the luxury of working or attending college in their hometown; indeed, a lot of people flee across the country. This whole notion of applying locally for something that is centrally produced is pointlessly time-consuming.
“The processing system should be changed,” says Tom Lowth, Welfare Officer for the USI, “to ensure that cards are produced on the spot in gardai stations in a similar system to how student travel cards are produced, and to ensure that students who have moved away from home can apply to a central office and have their card returned swiftly.”
Once the card has finally reached your hands, there is much debate on whether venues will actually accept them. Frank Fogarty, Welfare Officer for UL, has no complaints and says, despite initial scepticism, bouncers are now used to the age cards and have no problem accpeting them. Dubliners, it seems, aren’t so lucky.
“In general, the cards seem to be very effective,” says Stephanie O’Brien, Welfare Officer for TCD, “but individual clubs and bars can always insist on seeing passports rather than the card if they want to.” Whereas Tom Lowth seems to have the opposite problem: “At the moment some venues demand to see an age card as proof of age and are refusing to accpet passports and/or driver’s licences.” A little inconsistent, methinks.
So what are we faced with? At home I have a passport, a driver’s licence, and my brand-spanking-new Age Card. I want to go for a drink. Which one do I bring? Because of fear of forgery, bouncers may not accept the card, whereas, because it is the National Age Card, others insist on it. Therefore what we are left with is a situation in which no one knows what is going on: there is still no one form of identification that is universally accepted and which students can absolutely rely on to get them into clubs.