We live in a world where competition is real, where the rewards of success are real. For many of us, college is the most stressful environment we’ve ever experienced.

So it’s not surprising that the illicit use of study drugs is on the rise. A recent study estimates that up to 25 percent of college students on some campuses popped study drugs within the past year, Ritalin and Adderall being the primary pills. Intuitively, this certainly sounds like a problem.

But consider this: Are study drugs really a problem themselves, or are they just one of many means of coping with the problems posed by our pressure-driven world?

Considered rationally, I believe the latter, even though my knee-jerk, visceral reaction is to invoke the “That’s cheating!” argument.

According to relevant parts of UCLA’s Student Conduct Code, cheating, defined as “the use of unauthorized materials, information, or study aids in any academic exercise” is a punishable form of misconduct. And since the use of Ritalin and Adderall is illegal (unless prescribed by a doctor), it is also another form of misconduct to illicitly possess and use these study drugs.

Though their illegality should not be taken lightly, can the effects of these drugs really be considered cheating? To me, the argument that they should be seems a little thin.

Study drugs do not grant the user any significant unfair advantages. If anything, they could potentially level the playing field for those who may have a disadvantage in the competitive college environment.

The promises of neuroenhancement are real. Studies have demonstrated that drugs like modafinil, sometimes used by military pilots, work more effectively on individuals with lower IQs. It would be intriguing if the advent of neuroenhancements actually equalized the classes of society, rather than further exacerbated their differences.

For now, when used responsibly, these drugs can help an otherwise struggling student find success without detracting from personal agency. As anyone who has taken a study drug can attest, there is no miracle.

“It doesn’t make me smarter. … It just brings me to a level that I know I could potentially be working at,” said a first-year math economics student.

Moreover, the “cheating” argument is predicated on the romantic notion that an even playing field between social classes could exist. It can’t. The natural – and tolerated – socioeconomic gaps are real and vast.

Who’s to say my dropping Adderall would confer more of an “unfair advantage” than the thousands of dollars my parents dropped for SAT tutoring? Yet it appears that private tutoring is an excusable “unfair advantage,” whereas using a study drug is not.

A popular argument given against cognitive enhancements is the sports analogy. Of course, within the context of sports, the use of illegal performance enhancing drugs is cheating – it circumvents the established rules and ethos of competitive sports. A sport is necessarily a simple zero-sum game, in which rules clearly define victory.

Comparatively, the “rules” of education and society are complex and nuanced. If, hypothetically, we were aided by a cognitive enhancer and performed more efficiently in school, how exactly does society lose?

Currently, we do not have any set of ethical definitions for “cheating,” in which Adderall can be clearly distinguished from caffeine, which many abuse daily.

Starting in May, Starbucks will carry its new “trenta” cup – which closely resembles a sand pail – at all locations. Frankly, it’s disgusting.

Compared to trentas, our current cognitive enhancing drugs have similar effects on the user and are used with identical intentions – staying up longer and focusing better.

Perhaps a stronger argument against cognitive enhancers is that of indirect coercion: If everyone else is doing it, one feels compelled to take them – if only to stay ahead of the curve.

But many things are indirectly coercive, such as attending office hours, or even lecture, which people freely neglect. Limiting what everyone else can do, based on a wildly nebulous notion of indirect coercion, limits our personal freedom.

The other main source of discomfort revolves around the issue of safety. Intuitively, we have little tolerance toward any drug taken electively that harms an otherwise healthy individual.

All drugs come with inherent health risks. Some drugs like methylphenidate, more familiarly known as Ritalin, have real dangers – addiction potential, sleep disturbances and cerebrovascular complications. But newer drugs like modafinil, commonly known as Provigil, are relatively innocuous in the short run.

I’m not advocating for the unrestricted use of drugs. Some of their long-term effects are still unknown. But at the other extreme, we can’t categorically deny healthy individuals who are fully cognizant of the risks the right to choose what to do with their bodies. The solution lies in informing ourselves of the risks and conducting more research into long-term consequences of cognitive enhancements.

Ethics aside, banning study drugs simply isn’t practical. Would we really be required to present a BruinCard and a urine sample before submitting a blue book?

The mere presence of study drugs isn’t the problem; drugs are not evil. If anything, responsible, safe and controlled use of cognitive enhancement can be of aid to students. These drugs are here to stay.

Think study drugs are detrimental to a university education? Email Hu at rhu@media.ucla.edu. Send general comments to opinion@media.ucla.edu.