Dimitrios Kalantzis: Gambling addicts deserve more help from Illinois
Aug. 20, 2013
Photo: Nicholas Holstein
Video gaming is a multimillion-dollar business in Illinois. And it shows no signs of slowing down. Here, patrons try their luck at a bar in Bradley.
More photos from this shoot
Video gaming is a multimillion-dollar business.
That was true even before the state dipped its paw in the honey jar. Just the other day in a bar in Manteno, a patron made a case for the "old machines." He told the bartender they paid out better. I don't know if that's true. It's probably an argument impossible to prove.
The point is this: People in this county and throughout the state had been pumping cash into bright, noisy boxes for years before they ever became legitimate.
So, when some readers commented on a recent story about video gaming, that the state should not be cashing in on the vices and vulnerabilities of problem gamblers, I couldn't help but think that some portion of that population already had been at risk. Their lost wages just didn't make it into the state's coffers.
Still, gambling addiction counselors are calling video poker machines the "crack" of gambling. Addicts suffer from their inability to control their impulses. Placing bets, very similar to drinking or drugs, has a physical effect on people's brains.
Video poker satisfies those urges almost immediately and in relative solitude. There are no other gamblers at a table to scoff at your bad plays or a dealer to rush you along.
So these machines should be relegated to the black market, right?
Wrong. That hasn't worked. When I wrote a story last year about problem gamblers and the impact legalized video poker machines would likely have on them, I met a man who spent 15 years losing money he couldn't afford to lose.
You might not feel sorry for addicts, but a lack of sympathy can't undo the fact that they exist and their addictions adversely affect the public good.
One answer — but certainly not the answer — is increasing funding for addiction counseling.
The state does fund addiction centers, primarily on money lost by gamblers who tried to bar themselves from casinos but went anyway. But like everything else with mental health services, it just isn't much.
In 2011, nearly $1 million went to 15 counseling centers, numbers some advocates say are too small to start with.
So far this year, the state has taken in more than $33 million in taxes on people's lost bets. Taking even a fifth of that for counseling services would increase funding exponentially.
That's the least the state can do.
Dimitrios Kalantzis is a reporter and an award-winning columnist for The Daily Journal.
That was true even before the state dipped its paw in the honey jar. Just the other day in a bar in Manteno, a patron made a case for the "old machines." He told the bartender they paid out better. I don't know if that's true. It's probably an argument impossible to prove.
The point is this: People in this county and throughout the state had been pumping cash into bright, noisy boxes for years before they ever became legitimate.
So, when some readers commented on a recent story about video gaming, that the state should not be cashing in on the vices and vulnerabilities of problem gamblers, I couldn't help but think that some portion of that population already had been at risk. Their lost wages just didn't make it into the state's coffers.
Still, gambling addiction counselors are calling video poker machines the "crack" of gambling. Addicts suffer from their inability to control their impulses. Placing bets, very similar to drinking or drugs, has a physical effect on people's brains.
Video poker satisfies those urges almost immediately and in relative solitude. There are no other gamblers at a table to scoff at your bad plays or a dealer to rush you along.
So these machines should be relegated to the black market, right?
Wrong. That hasn't worked. When I wrote a story last year about problem gamblers and the impact legalized video poker machines would likely have on them, I met a man who spent 15 years losing money he couldn't afford to lose.
You might not feel sorry for addicts, but a lack of sympathy can't undo the fact that they exist and their addictions adversely affect the public good.
One answer — but certainly not the answer — is increasing funding for addiction counseling.
The state does fund addiction centers, primarily on money lost by gamblers who tried to bar themselves from casinos but went anyway. But like everything else with mental health services, it just isn't much.
In 2011, nearly $1 million went to 15 counseling centers, numbers some advocates say are too small to start with.
So far this year, the state has taken in more than $33 million in taxes on people's lost bets. Taking even a fifth of that for counseling services would increase funding exponentially.
That's the least the state can do.
Dimitrios Kalantzis is a reporter and an award-winning columnist for The Daily Journal.
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