Italian
Giacomo Casanova knew it well. It was precisely that risk, the bet on the impossible and the subsequent victory, that brought him the most intense pleasure. But why is there this strange mechanism in the minds of human beings that inextricably links play to pleasure, and vice versa?
The answer is not only philosophical but is rooted in our biology and anthropological history. In the early stages of gestation, the human embryo is little more than a hollow tube. Gradually, this small tube takes shape and gives rise to the prosencephalon, the front part of the brain. It is in this organelle that the key to the mystery resides. From here, the brain structures originate that, by connecting with each other, create the prerequisites for the mechanisms of joy and pain. These are the circuits that give rise to drives, needs, and desires: the foundations of a life that we discover to be much more emotional than rational. It is this biological drive that leads us to challenge fate and seek answers we never thought we would pursue.
But where does the combination of game, skill, and luck come from? The gamble lies in the outcomes of this summation of interconnected variables. We see it these days with the World Cup: people bet knowing that the best does not always win. Those who place bets introduce an uncertain variable into the system, unpredictable by definition. The gamble, after all, is the pure pleasure of the challenge.
It is the same mechanism that triggers in the alcoholic or the smoker, convinced they can quit “whenever they want.” We, as good-minded individuals, are sure we possess the freedom to choose, because we consider gaming and challenges to be normal human traits. In reality, in gaming as such, freedom does not exist. There is only the hidden desire to reproduce a virtual reality in which we are never losers; or in which, if we lose today, we have the certainty of winning tomorrow.
This is where the doors to gambling addiction swing wide open. The game that initially feels good because it brings pleasure carries with it its own punishment: the guilt stemming from the real impossibility of winning all the time. Reward and punishment are intertwined psychobiological circuits, not much different from that state of prostration and melancholy experienced right after a loving embrace.
We live like this, in a constant oscillation between biological needs and neuroses. Our only possible existence is consumed between boring but safe habits, modest pleasures, and deferrable needs. The challenge remains as an individual act of rebellion, but even this instinct must be limited and controlled, to prevent it from turning into another terrible disease: ideological fanaticism.
Today, gambling addiction is finally recognized as a disease, a behavioral dependency, and a pathological deviation. Yet, a vast amount of money fuels this disorder, often with the cynical collusion of the State that profits from it, and the inevitable intrusion of organized crime. Moreover, the hypocrisy of prohibition would not help: eliminating legal gambling would only serve to fatten the far more dangerous underground gambling.
We have no choice but to accept our nature: to understand our desperate need for risk and to address it, where possible, before the game takes everything.
