MONTREAL — It has never been easier to lose money by way of what’s in your pocket. 

Thanks to technological advances and legislative acquiesce, betting—and usually losing—on the combined score of a hockey game, a knockout in a boxing match or how much it is going to rain in London this month is only a few taps away. These instantaneous dopamine hits have become lucrative. Global gambling revenue is expected to grow by 92 per cent, from US$64.13 billion in 2020 to US$123 billion by the end of the year. 

It is also potentially disastrous, with industry experts equating easy access to betting markets with the opioid crisis. Nevertheless, governments across Canada and beyond are making it easier for their citizens to separate themselves from their money. Everywhere, it seems, except for Quebec—and the province is demonstrably better for it.

Quebecers are the country’s most profligate gamblers, with 69 per cent of the adult population regularly partaking in some form of betting. Yet the province has a probable pathological gambler rate of 0.6 per cent in 2020—far below the national average of seven per cent and infinitesimal compared to the 15 per cent of Nevadans who meet the threshold for problem gambling.

We can thank successive provincial governments for this trend-busting contradiction. Only Loto-Québec, the state-run gambling agency, is allowed to peddle its online gaming wares within Quebec’s borders, which it tends to do discreetly, to a niche audience. This means Quebecers only see those barrages of gambling ads when online or watching a sports feed from Ontario, where such things are legal. If they try to avail themselves of FanDuel or DraftKings to wager on the Canadiens-Leafs game, they will run straight into a government-mandated geofence.

Quebecers of legal age are free to wager at the local dépanneur or on Loto-Québec’s online sports gambling app Mise-o-jeu. Yet Loto-Québec is the sandpaper to DraftKings’s frictionless swiping.

Because I’m a Las Vegas Raiders fan, and therefore allergic to winning, I bet $100 on the New England Patriots to beat the Seattle Seahawks in this year’s Super Bowl. The nice lady behind the cash counter printed out a receipt-width paper slip with all the day’s potential bets on it, which was literally three feet long, then counselled me as I filled out a multiple-choice-style sheet with a ballpoint pen. After twice getting it wrong, I left with my ticket, feeling less invigoration than relief, as though I’d finally managed to renew my driver’s license.

The Mise-o-jeu app experience isn’t much better. It has garnered a paltry two-star rating since its launch in 2012, with users comparing it to 1992’s Crystal Pepsi and Microsoft “Windows 1939.” “Why can’t we just have FanDuel?” another disgruntled customer wondered.

FanDuel is asking the same question. The Quebec Online Gaming Coalition—of which Flutter, owner of FanDuel, is a member—recently submitted a pre-budget brief to the Quebec government, claiming the province’s focus on physical gaming like slots and casinos means it is leaving $300 million in tax revenue a year on the table. Among the coalition’s recommendations: the adoption of an Ontario-style open gaming model, which would allow Quebec to benefit from the diabetic-like spike in gambling tax revenues over the next five years and likely beyond.

Here, the coalition has a point. The size of the global online gambling market is expected to grow by 25 per cent to over $109 billion by 2027, according to a Grand View Research report. Loto-Québec’s revenues, by contrast, will edge up by comparatively paltry eight per cent by the 2027-2028 year.

The stakes are high: the coalition has had no less than six lobbyists petitioning the provincial government since 2023, though the effort has seemingly had little effect. “The government is continuing its efforts to limit access to illegal sites and to strengthen Loto-Québec’s position as the only responsible online gaming operator,” said Amelia Benattia, a spokesperson for finance minister Eric Girard. “What we see in Ontario is an overexposure to advertising and the trivialization of gambling, and it does not make us want to replicate this model.”

There is certainly a significant societal downside to that Ontario model, reflected in skyrocketing problem gambling rates and the number of gambling-related bankruptcies since private online betting was legalized in the province in 2022. Perhaps Quebec has found a sweet spot in being one of the few holdouts against the tide.

Martin Patriquin is The Logic’s Quebec correspondent. He joined in 2019 after 10 years as Quebec bureau chief for Maclean’s. A National Magazine Award and SABEW winner, he has written for The New York Times, The Guardian, The Walrus, Vice, BuzzFeed and The Globe and Mail, among others. He is also a panellist on CBC’s “Power & Politics.”