I once had someone present me with the following challenge: “If you cannot go without something for the rest of your life, then this means you’re addicted to it. And I’ll bet you cannot go the rest of your life without poker, so that means your addicted to it. The first step, Tim, is admitting you have a problem.” I quickly retorted, “well, by your reasoning, every human on the planet should be attending our ‘oxygenics anonymous’ meetings.” Often poker players write and read about internal aspects of the game; yet, external aspects of the game are important too. One of the “external” aspects of the game that is dealt with poorly (and all too quickly) is the issue of addiction. <READMORE> I think it would be fruitful to examine addiction from a philosophical perspective, all the while ensuring these philosophical insights stay informed by empirical evidence from e.g. psychology.

In the soft sciences a distinction is often made between something being physically addictive and psychologically addictive. For instance, caffeine is quite highly physically addictive: as I understand it, our bodies become used to the high levels of arousal caused by caffeine and when these levels drop due to withdrawal, headache, light-sensitivity and irritability are the direct results. Some other things are psychologically addictive: eating disorders (e.g. anorexia) and various other obsessive or compulsive behaviours are analyzed not in terms of a physical (bio-chemical) dependence but instead based on how the person is thinking. Some “hard drugs” (e.g. crack-cocaine, heroin, etc.) are highly addictive in both respects. Playing poker, like some hard drugs, is both psychologically and physically addicting for many people.

What does all this mean to you, an avid player of poker? The question I think the typical poker player is interested in is the following: am I addicted to poker? Answering this first-person question is where some philosophy can help.

My joke about “oxygenics anonymous” assumes that there are many things people cannot go without that we would not want to claim people are addicted to. A proper account of addiction has to be consistent with such a background assumption. My claim is the following: a person is addicted to some X if the person strongly desires to X but all things considered wishes that he or she did not desire to X. For instance, Tom is addicted to smoking tobacco if 1. Tom strongly desires to smoke tobacco and 2. Tom wishes that he did not desire to smoke tobacco.

In the context of poker, then, a person is addicted to playing poker if the person strongly desires to play poker, but wishes that he or she did not strongly desire to play poker. Let’s suppose Ted has lost 1/3 of his annual salary playing poker every year for the past 5 years. Let’s suppose further that all things considered Ted thinks that it would be best for him overall if he spent no more than 1/10 of his annual salary on playing poker. In other words, Ted’s desire to play poker is a desire that all things considered he wished he did not have (or at least had to a far less extent). By my analysis Ted is addicted to poker: he has an unhealthy relationship with playing poker because by his own lights he thinks that he would be better off, overall, if he did not desire to play poker nearly as much as he does. Ted’s problem is that he cannot control his desire to play poker—the desire controls him.

Ted’s case is pretty easy. This is because Ted “knows who he is”. Ted knows that in the big picture he does not want to be the kind of person who spends 1/3 of his annual salary playing poker. Ted’s problem has a solution: he needs to rid himself of his desire to play poker. Ted needs to control his desire and not let his desire to play poker control him.

The more complex case is when a person does not know what kind of person he or she wants to be (what kind of person he or she should be). Answering the question: what kind of person do you want to be? Is not easy but it is essential if you wish to determine whether or not you have an unhealthy relationship with poker.

Thus, answering the question: “Am I addicted to Poker?” involves you trying to figure out who you are. The short and sweet of it is the following: if poker is getting in the way of you doing other things that you love to do (or should love to do), then you just might have a problem. What sorts of things do you love (should you love) to do? Well, this is obviously more or less impossible for anyone to answer other than for him or her self. Answering the question “I should love to X” involves being honest with your self; a person needs to have the wisdom to detect when he or she is “tricking” him or her self. If your poker hobby is making it impossible for you to be a good father—and you think you ought to want to be a good father—then you have a problem with poker. This example can be generalized: most people would agree that he or she should love to spend time with (and be kind to) friends and family. If poker is getting in the way of your relationships with friends and family, then you just might have a problem by your own lights.

Avoiding addiction involves lining up your desires with the kind of person you desire to be. The hard part is getting clear on what kind of person you desire to be. (Special thanks is due to Todd Arnold for getting me started on this line of thought; if anyone is interested in further arguments on these topics, I direct you to the philosophical basis for this essay—and the source I borrowed liberally from--Harry Frankfurt’s “Three Concepts of Free Action”, 1986.)
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