Gambling Is Harmful. Unless It’s the National Lottery – Then It’s Virtuous, Apparently

Andrew Rhodes, the head of the UK Gambling Commission (UKGC), must be living in a curious world. According to Rhodes’ office, betting on horses or football could be catastrophic for the nation’s soul, a slippery slope into moral decay, financial ruin, and perhaps even devil worship. Yet, when it comes to the National Lottery, it’s all perfectly acceptable – even virtuous. After all, the National Lottery is for good causes. It helps build hospitals, funds sports programs, and probably once bought a flute for an underprivileged school orchestra. So, if you’re gambling away your paycheck on the hope of becoming a millionaire, as long as it’s with them, it’s “good.” With anyone else? Dangerous.

This delicate balancing act – branding gambling as a public menace while wholeheartedly endorsing the National Lottery – is the sort of doublethink that would make George Orwell rub his hands in delight. To Rhodes and his Commission, gambling addiction is a health crisis that needs urgent regulation – unless, of course, it’s sanctioned, monopolised, and funnelled through government-endorsed coffers. In that case, we’re told, it’s not only safe but noble. It’s gambling “for a good cause,” so technically, it’s not really gambling. Right?

The UKGC’s Virtue Signalling: Puritanism with a Twist

What Rhodes and the UKGC seem to be suggesting is a tiered system of moral gambling, where the National Lottery floats above as the sainted exception. Never mind that the lottery has some of the worst odds of any form of gambling. Never mind that it disproportionately attracts lower-income players who pour in what little they can spare for a chance at life-changing riches. These are details for another time – and certainly not mentioned in any of the UKGC’s moral sermons about responsible betting.

If the UKGC’s aim is to prevent problem gambling, it’s hard to ignore the fact that the National Lottery is one of the largest gambling outlets in the country. The tickets are at every newsagent, marketed as harmless entertainment with a side order of altruism. How convenient, then, that while other forms of gambling come with lectures on their dangers, the National Lottery can be promoted on the grounds of civic duty. “You’re not just betting on a jackpot,” they say, “you’re supporting arts programs and Olympic hopefuls.” This kind of messaging suggests that every lottery ticket is a charitable donation, just with a slight chance you’ll win £10 million.

A Convenient Blind Spot in the UKGC’s War on Gambling

Rhodes and his team are quick to issue statements on the dangers of gambling, promoting affordability checks, cooling-off periods, and restrictions on everything from sports betting to online bingo. But where are the affordability checks at the lottery counter? You won’t be quizzed about your income before buying a scratchcard. In fact, you’re much more likely to be encouraged to “play responsibly” while ads proclaim that “It could be you!” What they really mean, of course, is that it could be you – as long as you’re pumping your money into a state-sanctioned pot.

The UKGC has a habit of justifying its lottery stance with the claim that proceeds go to “good causes.” Yet, this distinction feels more like a convenient excuse than a meaningful difference. For someone gambling away hard-earned money, it hardly matters if the funds are supporting a sports club or a private shareholder. The UKGC knows this, but it suits them to turn a blind eye when the profits feed back into government-approved channels. After all, they can’t restrict all gambling revenue without hurting their own pet projects.

Playing Both Sides: The National Lottery’s Morality Loophole

The National Lottery occupies a strange moral loophole, enjoying endorsements that no bookmaker would dare dream of. Imagine if Paddy Power ran an ad that said, “Bet with us and fund the arts!” The Commission would be knocking down the doors before you could say “odds.” But because the lottery is a public venture, it’s not gambling – it’s a donation. It’s the equivalent of labeling a chocolate cake as “health food” because it happens to include some almonds. And so, the government can actively promote the lottery while damning its private-sector rivals as dangerous distractions from wholesome pursuits like eating celery and reading Jane Austen.

If Rhodes and the UKGC were genuinely interested in protecting the vulnerable, the National Lottery’s exemption would be first on the chopping block. After all, the psychological triggers are the same, the high-risk appeal is the same, and the core mechanic – pay now for a future reward that statistically won’t materialise – is exactly the same. But asking the UKGC to regulate the lottery with the same zeal they apply to sports betting would mean biting the hand that funds their own objectives.

The Hypocrisy of “Good Causes” Gambling

The National Lottery is a reminder that, in government circles, gambling’s dangers are secondary to the question of where the profits go. The reality is that Rhodes and his Commission aren’t so much against gambling as they are against anyone else making money from it. The lottery is branded as a “good cause,” an oxymoron that would be laughable if it weren’t so insidious. When the NHS picks up the tab for gambling addiction, taxpayers pay, regardless of whether the addict is hooked on horse racing or lottery draws.

In the end, what Rhodes and the UKGC have constructed is a great hypocrisy: a gambling “sin” that magically transforms into a virtue when it lines government coffers. They can’t have it both ways. Either gambling is harmful – in which case the lottery needs regulating or banning as much as any other form of betting – or it’s a personal choice, in which case people deserve the freedom to spend on any betting they choose without the nanny state snooping into their wallets.

Until Rhodes can justify this strange exception, the UKGC’s crusade against gambling will remain what it truly is: a puritanical war on gambling dressed up in moral platitudes, with a gaping exemption for the gambling they happen to profit from.