The Rise of Gambling and Drinking Among Our Boys: What they're actually looking for

For a while now, many of us have known something worrisome is happening, but we haven’t really talked about it directly. Young boys and teenage boys in our community are drinking, sports betting, online gambling and engaging in risky behavior in ways that are more widespread and more extreme than ever before. It's not new, but it is different and concerning. This is not about labeling boys as reckless and it is not about fear mongering either. It is about asking a more important and practical question: Why are so many boys drawn to this? When a behavior becomes widespread, it is usually meeting a need.

There have always been card games, sports pools, fantasy leagues, and drinking. There have always been those boys who pushed boundaries. Drinking and gambling have always existed in our community. But something has changed dramatically these last few years. This is no longer limited to a certain “type” of boy. It cuts across personalities and social groups. The high achievers. The “good boys.” The athletes. The learners. The boys you would never suspect. It is on their phones and in their group chats. The scale and accessibility are different now.

Yes, alcohol is accessible. Yes, gambling apps are everywhere. Yes, technology makes betting feel harmless. But access alone does not explain why something sticks. For many boys, these behaviors offer something powerful and intoxicating: A sense of identity, belonging, status, competence, and even aliveness. If a boy does not feel seen for who he is, he will look for a place where he does. Gambling creates a pecking order. Drinking offers bonding. Someone wins. Someone loses. Someone proves himself. In a world where boys are often unsure where they stand socially, that kind of certainty and clarity is powerful. There is status attached to risk, and that is more important to our kids (and to us), than we would like to admit.

We also have to address the emotional piece we tend to ignore. We do not give boys many places to put their emotions. We socialize them toward strength, composure, achievement, and control, and we are much less comfortable with their fear, loneliness, confusion, or insecurity. “Boys don't cry.” Except they need to and those emotions do not disappear. They just go underground and risk becomes a socially acceptable outlet. Alcohol numbs anxiety. Gambling spikes dopamine. For boys who have few acceptable outlets for vulnerability, numbing can feel safer than admitting pain. Winning creates temporary power. Losing creates a reason to chase and try again. Both offer escape from those “other” feelings that have no language.

Many boys do not know how to say, I feel invisible. I feel pressure. I feel like a disappointment to my family. I feel unsure of myself. I feel like I do not measure up. But they know how to say, I hit a huge bet. We were out drinking. We stayed up all night playing. One earns admiration and social capital. The other feels exposed and vulnerable. We should not be surprised which one wins.

Belonging is a powerful force in religious life. Community is not optional; it is central. Boys often bond through shared activity and competition. Drinking and betting become arenas where that bonding happens quickly. If a boy feels marginal academically, socially, or spiritually, he will look for belonging elsewhere. Sometimes that belonging looks like hanging out with a group that drinks together, bets together, and engages in high risk behavior together. The group becomes an emotional home. At that point the behavior is no longer just about alcohol or gambling. It is about connection. When parents try to intervene, boys often feel that their people are being taken away from them (cue the "You're ruining my life!"), which is why this is way more complicated than simply setting rules.

In conversations with people living in Israel, I have heard something interesting. This is definitely not a scientific study, just anecdotal and informal discussion, but many have told me that widespread teenage gambling and drinking do not seem to present in quite the same way there. Israeli teens and young men have their own very real struggles. They are living with war, trauma, and the aftermath of October 7th. Many are carrying levels of stress and exposure that our boys cannot imagine. Yet there is also often a clearer sense of direction. National service, the army, and a shared national narrative create a framework of purpose that shapes their adolescence differently.

I wonder whether that matters more than we think. When a young man knows he will soon be responsible for something larger than himself, when there is a collective expectation of contribution and responsibility, identity may be formed around purpose rather than risk. That does not make Israeli boys immune to destructive behavior, and it does not minimize their trauma. But it does raise a question for us. What are our boys orienting toward? What larger sense of mission or contribution are they stepping into? When there is no clear mission, boys will create one. Sometimes that mission becomes proving themselves through risk.

If we are being very honest, many of our boys are growing up with a much narrower vision of adulthood. Go to school. Get into a good college. Make money. Be successful. Build a beautiful home. Wear the watch. Drive a nice car. Pour expensive scotch at the kiddish. The metrics are clear and largely financial and external. Value is measured by income, lifestyle, and visible success. Boys are watching what earns admiration. They notice who is deferred to. They notice what is praised. They are paying attention to what kind of man seems powerful in their community.

Not all of this is inherently wrong. Providing for a family is important. Financial stability is a healthy and honorable goal. The question is not whether success matters. It is whether success is the only story we are telling. If so, it leaves very little room for deeper purpose. Who are you beyond what you earn? What are you responsible for beyond your own advancement? What problem in the world are you trying to solve? Who depends on your character, not just your paycheck?

When the long-term vision feels distant and mostly focused on making money, short-term risk can feel more immediate and meaningful. If we want boys to grow into men with depth and direction, we have to give them something sturdier to orient toward than wealth and image. Purpose, contribution, responsibility, and moral seriousness do not eliminate temptation, but they do give identity a steadier foundation.

We also need to speak very frankly about how masculinity is being taught and absorbed. In many spaces boys learn that being a man is tied to dominance, confidence, risk tolerance, and not showing emotion or weakness. Ever. Gambling fits that script. Drinking fits that script. Talking about anxiety does not. Going to therapy often does not. Saying I feel lost or confused does not. If our version of strength leaves no room for emotional expression, boys will look for other ways to perform strength, and high risk behavior becomes one of them.

That message is reinforced by what they consume online. We can't be naive about where boys are getting their scripts for manhood. It is not just from their immediate environments. It is from YouTube, TikTok clips, influencers, and online personalities who equate masculinity with dominance, wealth, romantic detachment, and emotional indifference. Many of these figures openly mock therapy, vulnerability, and partnership. When that is the loudest voice defining what it means to be a man, it is not surprising that boys gravitate toward risk, status, and performance over depth and character.

Part of the appeal of these influencers is not just the bravado but the clarity. They offer simple answers about what makes a man valuable. In a world where identity feels confusing, certainty can be intoxicating.

We cannot control every algorithm. But we can model something stronger and healthier. If boys do not see men in their real lives embodying emotional strength, responsibility, humility, and purpose, they will default to the louder, and more toxic, versions online.

What we cannot do is dismiss the parents who feel uneasy or reassure ourselves that this is normal and that “boys will be boys.” We cannot wait until there is an addiction, or something more dire, before we take it seriously, and we cannot treat it as a fringe problem when it is quickly becoming embedded in mainstream culture. Framing this as just a discipline issue misses the larger picture. If we address the behavior without addressing the need underneath it, the behavior will simply morph.

What we need instead are more emotionally safe spaces for boys. Not lectures or sermons, but real opportunities to talk honestly about pressure, status anxiety, academic struggle, social comparison, fear of failure, and questions about identity. We need adults who are willing to listen without immediately correcting, fathers who model emotional language, and schools that are willing to talk openly about gambling and drinking without judgement and panic while still educating about risk and brain development. Community leaders need to understand that when something becomes normalized, silence can feel like a stamp of approval or permission. Boys need to see men and women aligned in the message about what strength actually looks like.

If we strip this down to its core, many of our boys are not reckless. They are untethered. Beneath the surface, much of this is unspoken anxiety and sadness that has nowhere appropriate to land. They do not feel anchored to a clear sense of purpose. They do not feel emotionally fluent. They do not always see the men around them modeling depth, vulnerability, and meaning. They are trying to assemble an identity out of what is available. Risk feels exciting. Status gets noticed. Purpose feels abstract, boring and far away.

This is not about blaming boys and it is certainly not about blaming parents. It is about noticing that when large numbers of young men gravitate toward the same coping mechanisms, something larger is happening. Behaviors are data. They are signals. If we are willing to look beneath them, we may find boys who are not trying to rebel but trying to belong, to feel competent, and to feel powerful in a world that can feel incredibly overwhelming. If we can meet those needs in healthier ways, we may not have to fight the behavior as hard. When boys feel seen and connected, they do not need risk to give them a sense of excitement or identity. 

Psychologist Lisa Damour often reminds parents that adolescence is not a pathology. It is a developmental stage marked by intensity, experimentation, and identity formation. Risk-taking increases during these years, not because there is something wrong with them, but because their brains are wired for exploration. What they need most are steady adults who can set clear limits while staying deeply connected. Boys do not need panic, they need guidance. 

That guidance includes being willing to bring the topic up directly. You cannot watch a major sporting event today without being exposed to betting language and advertising. It is in their feeds whether we mention it or not. Rather than waiting to catch a problem, we can ask open questions: What do you know about sports gambling? What are your friends saying about it? What makes it appealing? We can be honest about the legal and financial risks and about how quickly something that feels harmless can spiral. And if we suspect experimentation is happening, the conversation shifts from pretending it is not there to setting thoughtful boundaries. Safety is not something we do to teenagers. It is something we do with them.

That being said, this is not something one parent can solve alone. It requires fathers and mothers speaking openly and consistently, not at each other but together. It requires schools that are willing to pay attention to what is happening without over reacting. It requires community leaders who are prepared to address boys directly and proactively, not just when something goes wrong. If this is cultural, the response has to be cultural too.

For parents looking to better understand the developmental landscape of adolescence, Lisa Damour’s book Untangled offers a thoughtful framework for staying steady while teens find their way.

If we want something different from our boys, we have to offer something different to them. Not just rules, not just warnings, but a compelling vision of manhood that includes emotional depth, responsibility, humility, purpose, and moral courage.