The State’s Gambling Gamble: Taxing the Wrong Bet While Playing Nanny to the Masses

Rob Davies of the Guardian reports that casinos and bookmakers will soon face a £100m-a-year levy to fund research, education, and treatment for gambling harms.

Ed Grimshaw

11/27/20243 min read

Rob Davies of the Guardian reports that casinos and bookmakers will soon face a £100m-a-year levy to fund research, education, and treatment for gambling harms. The government’s plan, set to be unveiled this week, aims to replace the voluntary system with a statutory levy of 1% on operators’ gross gambling yield. Yet, as with most things touted as progress in Westminster, the devil lurks in the details—and in the convenient blind spots.

And let’s not ignore the surreal political timing. If we believe what we’re told, one minute Rachel Reeves is earnestly insisting she has “no plans to raise taxes,” and five minutes later, here comes another tax. But don’t call it a tax. It’s a “levy,” because somehow slapping a different label on it makes it more palatable. This government-and-opposition double act—the faux indignation about taxation followed by a hasty backdoor revenue grab—has become as predictable as a soap opera cliffhanger.

The Charity Trough: A Whiff of Grift?

The government promises that the new levy will fund a mix of NHS clinics, school programmes, and charities tackling gambling-related harm. On paper, it’s a noble aim. In practice, it risks opening the floodgates to a familiar breed of opportunists: the charity-industrial complex.

Under the current voluntary system, fines levied by the Gambling Commission already feed a network of unaudited initiatives. Some of these efforts undoubtedly make a difference; others, however, deliver little more than glossy brochures and empty workshops. GambleAware, the industry’s preferred charity under the existing framework, receives millions annually, yet its effectiveness has faced criticism. With a fresh pot of £100m at stake, the danger is that the same lack of scrutiny will persist—only now, it’ll be the taxpayer money via bookmakers lining the trough.

The Great Infantilisation

There’s a troubling subtext to this entire policy: the assumption that the public is incapable of managing its own risks. Gambling, like drinking or spending, carries inherent dangers. To legislate against its harms by micromanaging behaviour treats adults as children in need of constant supervision.

This creeping paternalism erodes the concept of personal responsibility. First, it’s gambling. What’s next? A sugar tax on Bakewell tarts? A mandatory awareness course for anyone who buys scratch cards at the till? The government seems intent on building a society where no one navigates life’s challenges unaided—because, heaven forbid, the British public learn to balance risk and reward without a bureaucratic intervention.

Of course, when it comes to the National Lottery, the state takes a more laissez-faire approach. Plastered across billboards in every high street, the Lottery’s marketing seduces with promises of life-changing jackpots, all while masking its toll on low-income households. The government doesn’t mind running its own book as long as it gets to keep the profits. Where’s the £100m levy for the harm caused by this state-sanctioned gambling?

Robbing Peter to Pay Paul

The distinction between private bookmakers and the National Lottery is as arbitrary as it is convenient. Both rely on the same psychological hooks—hope, thrill, and escapism. Yet only one is condemned as predatory. The other is hailed as a benefactor of culture and sport, conveniently ignoring the reality that its revenues come disproportionately from communities already struggling to make ends meet.

If this policy is about justice, shouldn’t the Lottery’s billions face the same scrutiny as Ladbrokes’ betting slips? Instead, the state continues to protect its golden goose, ensuring that one hand profits while the other preaches morality.

When the Cure Becomes the Disease

For all its moral posturing, the levy risks becoming another bureaucratic black hole. Throwing money at gambling harms won’t help if it’s squandered on unaccountable charities and vague “awareness campaigns.” Worse, it lets the government off the hook, presenting a facade of action while failing to tackle deeper issues like poverty and addiction that drive problem gambling in the first place.

The reality is that gambling is part of the human condition. People will always be drawn to risk and reward, whether at the bookies, the blackjack table, or the state lottery kiosk. The solution isn’t to infantilise the public with endless state interventions. It’s to ensure transparency, fairness, and a level playing field while empowering individuals to make informed choices.

The £100m levy may placate Westminster’s moralists, but it’s unlikely to change the game. And as ever, the house—whether it’s run by private operators or the government—always wins.