Could this man hold the key to curing gaming addiction?
His own habit nearly led to suicide – now, Cam Adair tells Anna Maxted, he is helping other young men quit
Twelve years ago, Cam Adair’s gaming addiction brought him low enough to consider suicide. Now, as founder of Game Quitters – the world’s largest support community for video gaming addicts – he travels the globe, helping thousands of young people struggling with their own habit; not to mention their parents.
This week, as Google announced its first foray into the $140billion industry, with streaming service, Stradia, Adair is in Britain. Almost 10,000 gamers from the UK ask Game Quitters for help every month, a figure which has doubled since last August.
Last week, two members of his Game Quitters forum gave evidence on “immersive and addictive technologies” to Parliament’s Digital, Culture, Media and Sport committee. As Adair notes, last year, “the World Health Organisation confirmed that gaming disorder is a distinct clinical entity, regardless of underlying health conditions.” Now a London hospital is preparing to launch the first ever Nhs-funded internet addiction centre.
We assume that gaming is a teenage obsession that children will outgrow – it isn’t always so. This addiction often manifests in young adults who no longer have parental supervision, say, at university, where it can turn into a compulsion. After graduating, boomeranging home in search of a job, it can become an emotional crutch. Of the 75,000 gamers a month who seek help from Game Quitters, 50 per cent are 18 to 25.
Adair’s own addiction peaked at 18. Nicknamed “Smiley”, he was a happy child and a talented hockey player, only starting to game at the relatively advanced age of 11 – “a modern day miracle!” – but at 13, he was bullied and his self-esteem plummeted. “Gaming was a really effective way for me to escape,” the Canadian says.
Soon, gaming was all he did. Once, his mother wondered how long he’d play before he’d stop: “15 hours went by.” As setting boundaries failed, his parents sought professional help, but Adair says, “I was very manipulative and unresponsive. I refused to participate.”
At 18, he wrote a suicide note. That same night, a friend asked him to go and see a film. “The shift from writing that note [to] laughing in the cinema made me snap out of my state,” he says. “I asked my dad to help me find a counsellor. He helped me turn my life around.”
Adair says the significant part was, “I made the choice. If I’m not going to end my life, I’m going to try to live it to the fullest. I might as well start today.”
As hard as that was for him then, he believes it’s worse now. As technology evolves, and companies spend millions researching behavioural psychology, their products not only become more entertaining but more compelling. Adair sees Google’s move as evidence that the gaming industry is tantamount to “a modern day gold-rush”.
“When you think that gaming is bigger than film and music combined, it’s no surprise that Google would want to get into the fray.”
Adair also consults for The Edge, part of a private addiction treatment centre called The Cabin, in Thailand, which offers a residential programme for young men aged 18-26. Andy Leach, a psychotherapist from Surrey who has worked there for seven years, stresses that, like alcohol, gaming is fine in moderation. But for an estimated 3 per cent, it’s “pernicious. It’s virtually identical to a drug addiction.”
Two years ago, Leach was unaware of any gaming addicts – now they total a quarter of his patients. Why are so many young men susceptible? “It’s about emotional ability, ability to connect,” he says. Social anxiety, trauma, and an adverse childhood environment are all factors in becoming addicted. “Gaming addiction is about the illusion of connection. A lot of the work we do is about complete digital detox, and learning how to socially interact and be rewarded for that in a healthy way.”
Robert Teague, head teacher of The Cedars, an independent boys’ school in Croydon, invited Adair to address his pupils and their parents yesterday. “Games are very skilfully designed,” Teague says. “They appeal to lots of positive drives, but channel them in a way that’s a waste of time. All children want to create, to achieve, they like challenge. And all of these urges can be satisfied doing worthwhile things. Gaming gives a short-term fix and satisfies these urges but in a fake way.”
Even if our children aren’t addicted, many spend more time gaming than is ideal. Teague believes parents need to push back beyond setting time limits. “There’s often a gap to be filled,” he says, whether through sport or music. There’s also, he says, “a need for parents to get into the lives of their children. A lot of teenagers seem to be brought up by peers. It’s as though parents have vacated that space.”
Adair agrees. If a parent has never set boundaries, the belated attempt to limit gaming can create huge conflict. “Setting limits from an early age is important,” he says. But so is focusing on building a positive and healthy family relationship that doesn’t revolve around screens.
Still, the contributing factors to addiction can be complex and painful. Lucy Farmer*, 48, sought help from Game Quitters when she realised her son – now 28 and still struggling – was a gaming addict. He was passionate about gaming from six, but he also did well at school and sport. When he was 18, however, his five-year old brother died, and his habit became acute.
“I never thought it would become a problem in adulthood. You think, ‘He’ll go to work, get a girlfriend, get married’. None of that has happened.”
Looking back, she believes that school contained his compulsion, as sport and socialising were built in. But he took a gap year before university. “That year became, 10, 11, 12 years,” she says. “He couldn’t keep a job, he never showered or ate, he was moody.”
Wanting to help, she paid his rent and bought food. “I was trying to take his problems away. Now I realise I was enabling his addiction.”
On Adair’s advice, she withdrew financial support. The situation remains distressing. “I don’t know much about gaming but I know that it’s taken 10 years of my son’s life.”
A gamer has to want to quit, says Adair; if they do, he suggests going cold turkey for 90 days. His research with clinical psychologist Dr Daniel King found that just three months without gaming improved everything “from emotional health to physical health, time management, focus, family relationships, personal relationships, even their appearance”.
“But 90 days is only the beginning,” says Adair. “After that they need to find replacement activities. New ways to see progress, feel a sense of purpose, deal with stress and anxiety, learn to relax, to socially connect.”
This involves exercise, time outdoors, face-to-face interaction, and finding support – whether online or with a professional.
Adair’s own recovery wasn’t straightforward. Early on, he relapsed. But now he says, “I feel great. I go surfing, I DJ, I have a girlfriend. My life is transformed.”
For those still struggling – there is hope.
*Name has been changed
‘I don’t know much about gaming, but I know it has taken 10 years of my son’s life’