After moving to a downtown Toronto neighbourhood last spring, I discovered a local hotspot within walking distance of our new place. It was the sort of bar where the beautiful people go to pour back overpriced drinks, recline on couches and hit on each other. (Or, for some of us, where we go to take a spectator's view of that action.)

The first time I went, it was packed. The second time, too. And then, when I brought a few friends by in mid-summer, I was embarrassed to find we were practically the only people there. I went back the next week, and it was the same thing. More so than most bars, it seemed, this one was being hit hard by the city's new smoking ban.

A few weeks later, I gave it one more try. And lo and behold, it was packed again. Only there was a difference - the former lounge had become a private club. Membership requirements were stiff: You had to be literate enough to sign your name on a sheet of paper. And once you'd pulled that off, you were a member with full privileges - namely the ability to enter the "club" and fill your lungs with as much nicotine as you pleased. Initially, membership was free; to lend an air of bona fides, I understand it has since added a nominal fee.

This, savvy entrepreneurs have discovered, is the easiest way around Toronto's troublesome by-law: Redesignate your establishment as a club, and the ban on smoking in restaurants and bars no longer applies. And it explains why the Ontario government, in the midst of drafting similar legislation to be enforced province-wide, is heading toward a ban that will ruffle a lot more feathers than Toronto's ever did.

Needing to appear activist despite some rather severe budgetary constraints, Dalton McGuinty's Liberals are on the lookout for populist issues they can tackle with minimal expenditure. Hence the huge play they're giving the forthcoming ban on pit bulls. And hence, to some extent at least, their eagerness to undertake another anti-smoking campaign - a hot-button tactic that offends a vocal minority while satisfying the quieter, nicotine-free majority.

The problem is that, rather than doing it largely for show while tacitly acknowledging that smokers will still find a way to practise their habit, Ontario Health Minister George Smitherman seems resolved to eliminate any loopholes. And that means taking the ban further than most reasonable people would think it should go.

You can take the cigarettes out of the hands of diners. Bar patrons are a little harder, but protests will still be fairly muted. But try to tell veterans of our wars and peacekeeping missions that they can't light up in their legion halls and you're stepping on dangerous ground.

That, though, is precisely what the provincial government appears poised to do. As part of a mission to introduce a "100% ban on smoking in public and workplaces," Mr. Smitherman is aiming to prohibit smoking in all private clubs - including those smoky halls frequented by septuagenarian legion members.

In trying to prevent phony "clubs" - of which there is an increasing number - from springing up overnight, Mr. Smitherman undoubtedly has his heart in the right place. But if the only way he can do so is by infringing upon the rights of legitimate, pre-existing private organizations to set their own rules, he'll be taking his new regulations to places they simply don't need to go.

The anti-tobacco fight has been a worthy one. But at a certain point, governments need to realize they're already doing just about everything they can reasonably do. Smoking has been banned in offices, stores, restaurants, bars and just about every other place it would offend non-smokers. Federal law prohibits not just straightforward advertising, but even tobacco companies' sponsorship of public events. Public information campaigns scare off impressionable teens - and probably a few adults - from taking up the habit.

Now, the proposals to take the campaign a few steps further are starting to get goofy. The state may have no place in the bedrooms of the nation, but the Ontario Medical Association suggests it start poking around inside our cars to make sure nobody is lighting up in vehicles used to transport children. An American anti-smoking activist ventures north of the border to instruct the Ontario Film Review Board to hand any movie featuring smoking scenes - including kid-friendly fare like Shark Tale and the Harry Potter films - a restricted rating. And now, a provincial Health Minister endeavours to tell ageing legion members that, even if nobody in their private club has a problem with smoke, they'll have to step outside to have a cigarette.

Mr. Smitherman is as resourceful as anyone around Ontario's Cabinet table. So presumably, he can figure out a way to crack down on phony "clubs" without infringing upon what we do in genuinely private spaces. If not, the doors it opens to increasingly intrusive tactics will make this one battle in the war on tobacco that's not worth fighting.