If you’re a serious lottery player, you probably spend $50 or $100 a week. And you know that you’re spending your hard-earned money on a gamble that will almost certainly not pay off. But you’re still playing because it’s fun, and there’s a certain kind of inextricable human impulse that makes people play the lottery. You’re hoping to win, and you have a small sliver of hope that you will.
The history of the lottery is one of public policy gone horribly wrong. State lotteries were originally envisioned as a painless form of taxation, with players voluntarily contributing their money for the benefit of the general public. It has turned out, though, that most states have not made good on this promise. Instead, they have become dependent on lottery revenues and entangled themselves in a series of policy issues that have been difficult to resolve.
Most state-sponsored lotteries follow a similar pattern: the government legislates a monopoly; establishes a government agency or public corporation to run the lottery (rather than licensing a private firm in return for a share of the profits); begins operations with a modest number of relatively simple games; and, driven by constant pressures for additional revenue, progressively expands its offerings. In the process, it becomes increasingly irrational and less oriented toward a clear-eyed understanding of odds.
Some players choose their own numbers, but most stick to a system they feel is “lucky.” This often involves birthdays and other personal numbers — which are not actually lucky at all. Most of the time, these numbers fall within the range of 1 to 31, inadvertently reducing the chances of winning by avoiding a shared prize.
Other, more committed lottery players develop their own system that they claim will increase their chances of winning. These systems are almost always based on irrational beliefs and assumptions that have no basis in statistical reasoning. They often involve purchasing a large number of tickets, trying to play the hot numbers or the numbers that have recently won, and buying them in specific stores at particular times of day.
These approaches are problematic on many levels. Not only do they obscure the regressivity of lottery participation, but they also make it difficult for lottery officials to communicate clearly with the public about the odds of winning. Moreover, they often fail to provide information about the tax consequences of winning, which are often enormous and can decimate even the most well-off winners in a very short period of time.
What’s worse, lottery promotion is often designed to obscure the irrationality and regressivity of the lottery, and to promote the idea that playing the lottery is simply a fun way to pass the time. It’s no wonder that state officials are so often unable to address the growing problems that plague the industry. In the end, lottery policy is a classic example of how public policies are developed piecemeal and incrementally, with little or no overview of their overall impact.
