sensation seeking in
their late teens and early 20s. In fact, some of
this sensation seeking might actually be genetic
in nature as studies with identical twins reared
apart suggest. Evidently, some of us were born to
rattle toys and others of us to rattle dice.
However, while Zuckerman
looks to personality traits to characterize sensation-seeking,
other scientists are looking at the very chemistry
of the brain to discover the source of why one man’s
exciting craps game is another man’s occasion
to nap.
According to the latest
research, our neurotransmitters -- a fancy term
for the host of chemicals that transmit sensations
and thoughts within our brains -- are responsible
for the excitement and pleasure we experience when
we place our money at risk. In fact, they are responsible
for the pleasure we feel no matter what we do --
from listening to a symphony by Beethoven to jumping
into a mosh pit at a Megadeth concert. In fact,
one in particular -- dopamine -- seems to be the
Janus-faced master of our pleasures and orchestrator
of our pains. When a craps player looks to the heavens
and calls upon the gods in that heart-thumping moment
between picking up the dice and rolling the dice,
what is really taking place is an explosion of dopamine
in the nucleus accumbens (the primitive pleasure
center) of his or her brain. When those dice are
released and the point number is hit, the craps
player is bathed in the glow of a chemical high
every bit as real and every bit as powerful as the
runner’s high I used to experience so long
ago.
It is not an indictment of casino gambling to say
that it is wonderfully addictive in the same sense
that running is wonderfully addictive. To paraphrase
the great Greek philosopher Epicurus, people should
desire to maximize pleasure and to minimize pain.
That’s normal. Certainly, casino players know
that the casino experience is pleasure personified
and that trips to the wonderful world of Dame Fortune
send the dopamine flowing through their nucleus
accumbens aplenty. That’s fun.
However, for a small percentage of casino players
the rush of dopamine heralds the onrush of personal
doom. For these cursed few, casino gaming doesn’t
bring that "challenge the gods" heady
thrill of victory or the "I’ll get you
next time, Zeus" agony of defeat; instead,
like Cassandra, to these cursed few, casino gaming
brings hopelessly self-destructive self-indulgence.
As there is a qualitative difference between sipping
a fine wine in a fine restaurant and guzzling gallons
of muscatel from a bottle in a brown-paper bag behind
a White Castle dumpster, so too is there a difference
between the pleasures of waltzing with Lady Luck
and the agony of being slam-danced by her. Unfortunately,
for the cursed few that genes or Fate have selected,
the surge of dopamine is so intense, so pleasurable,
so necessary for a sense of well-being that come
hell or Noah’s flood, they will gamble every
penny they have to satisfy the dictates of their
appetite for dopamine. Before we shake our heads
in disgust, let us realize that this is not so different
from those long-distance runners who cannot control
their desire to run, run, and run some more. Through
shin splints, cartilage damage, blood in their urine,
bone spurs and kidney breakdown, some runners become
modern-day Jobs, suffering endless torment for a
brief brush with the divine -- in this case, their
runner’s high.
Although the self-righteous prophets among us might
want to burn the casinos in fire and brimstone --
forever preventing those of us who are not sacrificing
our children to Moloch to pay for our pleasures
– these same prophets might as well ban running.
It is in the nature of man -- chemically, psychologically,
and, yes, spiritually -- to dare, to push the limits,
to gamble on this, that, or the other thing and
to ultimately feel damn good about it, too. It’s
built into our hearts, it’s built into our
souls, and, if science is correct, it’s built
into the very structures of our brains. You can
bet on it.
Good
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