Every generation through history has had its vices. But Gen Z has apparently bucked the trend. Reading the headlines, you will learn that none of us have sex, and that we only drink when the ever-steepening pub prices seem marginally more affordable. Oscar Wilde would ask rightly whether we have a single redeeming vice. But as Gen Z teeters back and forth on the ledge overhanging conservative prudism, gambling appears to be emerging as our sole saving grace. The stoner has become the dopamine junky.
Research shows that Gen Z – and specifically its male cohort – is leading the way on most gambling and sports betting participation. That’s not to say that Gen Z are devotees at the altar of the cardsharp and the crapshooter. If you happen to find yourself at any sport-inclined pub in student areas on a Sunday afternoon, you will likely find a hyper-focused group of early-twenty-somethings huddled around the almighty deity that is Paddy Power. Séanced around a few Wetherspoons pitchers, these believers pray to the benevolent bookies and footballing gods that their bet-builder on an irrelevant 3pm mid-table Premier League clash pulls through, so that they can enjoy the fruits of their hard-earned labour – another round of drinks. None of them really care about the result, of course, but their fixation is symbolic of the ever-growing love for online betting as a social occasion.
In some cases, the stakes seem to be drifting away from the old football-horse axis and becoming increasingly abstruse. Gen Z have collectively staked millions on things including ferret bingo, wife carrying and even who the next pope would be.
A new national survey by the Gambling Commission found that the 18-24 demographic led all respondents in saying that they take part “because it’s fun” (87 per cent), “to be sociable” (55 per cent), and “because it’s something I do with my friends or family” (58 per cent). Conversely, in comparison to older punters, Gen Z ranked last in interest of winning a large payout.
This normalisation of gambling, of course, has seeds in Gen Z’s native habitat: the internet. Influencers and online streamers have popularised the gamification of gambling. Platforms like Stake and Rainbet have capitalised on the trend of micro-transactions. The game Counter-Strike: Global Offensive has a market for in-game skins (essentially, avatar costumes), now worth $4.3bn. And, similar to physical casinos, this digital house always wins, and handsomely so.
Influencers entice their (often underage) audiences with the promise of riches won at the online table. Félix “xQc” Lengyel switched from the conventional streaming site Twitch to the younger, hotter and more libertarian Kick – in order to maintain his partnership with an online casino upon which he has placed more than a million bets totalling more than $3.6bn. Luckily for Lengyel, his sponsorship more than recoups the $100m or so that he’s lost over the course of his illustrious career. His audience cannot rely on the same guarantees.
The hit of dopamine that flows on each gambling win supports a common theory that the attention spans of Gen Z have declined. Their ability to concentrate is, as the lingo goes, “cooked”. The consensus seems to be that Gen Z are only more prudish because we are less socialised, or that we drink less only because we cannot afford it. But our woes aren’t helped by an increasing dependence on Bet365 and Stake to make our lives more exciting. Instead of heeding the wisdom of Kenny Rogers’ “The Gambler” – “Know when to walk away/And know when to run” – Gen Z are increasingly choosing to sprint towards the embrace of Big Gambling’s hedonistic abyss.
[See also: Brewdog Britain is dead]





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