A commenter recommended the book, Addiction by Design: Machine Gambling in Las Vegas, by the anthropologist Natasha Dow Schüll, and I checked it out of the library. It’s a study of people who play slot machines and video poker, focusing on the locals: Vegas residents who have some low-level gambling addictions as part of their lives.
Nowadays, I guess that much of this business has been supplanted by machine gambling that you can do on your phone in the comfort of your own home. But the market for gambling must be far from being tapped: I imagine that there are many millions of potential gambling addicts out there, available to be hooked by some form of gambling or another.
As a statistician, I have mixed feelings about gambling. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve thought that probability is cool, and I like to bet. When we were kids we had a toy roulette set that we would play (just betting chips, not real money) and I’ve enjoyed poker and informal sports betting. The last time I’ve bet on anything was about 20 years ago, but that’s just more me getting older than anything else.
At the same time, there are all these addicts, and all the people who might not be addicts but who still degrade their standard of living, not to mention reward evil people (even if they’re pleasant as invididuals, they’re in an evil business; sorry, Nate!). And it just keeps getting worse.
To a statistician, this is all an endlessly fascinating topic: the odds and all that, but also whatever it is in people’s brains that motivate them to spend thousands of dollars on lottery tickets, etc.
As Schüll writes in her book, the popularity of machine gambling (which she says is the source of the majority of casino gambling profits in Vegas) is particularly puzzling in that people are just pulling the lever over and over again, without the sense of human context or any feeling of agency.
There’s also the interaction between the players and the people who make money from the machines:
For extreme machine gamblers, the experience of play is an end in itself–an “autotelic” zone beyond value as such, in that “no other reward than continuing the experience is required to keep it going.” Conversely, for the gambling industry the zone is a means to an end; although it carries no value in and of itself, it is possible to derive value from it. . . . In effect, gamblers’ drive to remain indefinitely suspended in the zone is rerouted, via the technological detours of the gambling industry, toward a destination of complete depletion.
It’s not just “the technological detours of the gambling industry,” it’s also politics: the industry doing what it takes to keep all this going, a gradual effort over many decades that continues to this day.
Later, Schüll summarizes:
Gambling addicts play machines to suspend themselves in a state of equilibriated affect.
This seems pretty accurate.
I would just add two things.
First, this equilibrium is not flat. It’s periods of stress, punctuated with the occasional excitement of winning and the frequent relaxing calm of losing. The best analogy I can think of is the way that a baby is calmed, not by lying completely still, but by being rocked in a somewhat irregular fashion.
Second, stakes matter. That “state of equilibriated affect” can only be achieved when real money is involved. I guess this is related to the phenomenon of habituation in drug exposure. Schüll talks with someone who started on a zero-stakes poker video game but them moved to the machines that take real dollars. We discussed this general idea recently in our post, Why isn’t it possible to play a fun and serious game of poker not for money?
It’s a good thing that babies don’t work that way–you can rock them a reasonable amount and they’ll be happy. No need to keep upping the stakes until the crib does a loop and the baby flies out the window. Although I guess that might happen if there were money in it.