When you hear the word “gambling,” what comes to mind? Bright casino lights? The clatter of slot machines? For many of us, it’s a world of high-stakes entertainment and financial risk. But for countless Indigenous cultures across the globe, games of chance are something else entirely. They are threads woven deep into the fabric of community, spirituality, and identity.
These aren’t just pastimes. They’re ancient traditions, sometimes sacred, that have been practiced for centuries—long before the first modern casino was ever conceived. Let’s explore the profound role these games play, far beyond the simple roll of a dice.
More Than a Game: The Spiritual and Social Fabric
At its heart, Indigenous gambling traditions are rarely about personal wealth. Honestly, the concept of “winning” in the way we think of it is often secondary. The real stakes are social cohesion, spiritual balance, and cultural continuity.
A Conversation with the Gods
In many communities, games of chance were—and for some, still are—a form of divination. The outcome wasn’t random luck; it was a message. The fall of sticks, the roll of bones, the turn of a card—these were seen as signs from ancestors or deities, indicating favor, predicting weather, or deciding the fate of a hunt.
It was a way for people to feel connected to forces larger than themselves. A way to listen.
The Glue That Binds People Together
Socially, these games are powerhouse events. They redistribute wealth within the community, settle disputes without conflict, and strengthen social bonds. Imagine a huge, multi-day gathering where the entire community is involved—not just the players. There’s singing, dancing, feasting. It’s a festival. The game itself is almost the backdrop to the real event: being together.
A World Tour of Traditional Indigenous Gambling Games
To really get it, you have to look at the games themselves. They’re as diverse as the cultures that created them.
Stick Games and Slahal in North America
On the Northwest Coast, among tribes like the Salish, you’ll find the bone game, or Slahal. It’s a guessing game, incredibly dynamic and loud. Two pairs of bones—one marked, one unmarked—are hidden by two teams. The rhythmic beating of drums and powerful, call-and-response songs are used to distract the opposing team as they try to guess which hand holds the unmarked bone.
The atmosphere is electric. It’s part sport, part musical performance, part spiritual practice. The songs themselves are considered property, passed down through families.
Traditional Maori Gambling Games in Aotearoa (New Zealand)
For the Maori, games like pūrerehua (a spinning disc game) and various dart games were common. While they had recreational purposes, they also developed skills useful for warfare and hunting. Betting on outcomes was common, with participants wagering prized possessions. This wasn’t seen as frivolous; it was a display of confidence and a way to earn prestige. The act of wagering something you valued was, in itself, a significant gesture.
Ancient Gambling Traditions in Asia and Beyond
Indigenous practices in Asia are incredibly old. You know, in India, references to gambling are found in the ancient Rigveda. The epic Mahabharata famously turns on a loaded dice game that results in the Pandavas’ exile. This story isn’t just a tale; it’s a deep cultural commentary on duty, fate, and the dangers of unchecked obsession.
Across the globe, the pattern repeats. From the Inuit playing the ring and pin game to develop coordination for seal hunting, to Indigenous Australian children playing with purpose-made gaming stones—the line between play, training, and ritual is beautifully, intentionally, blurred.
The Modern Dilemma: Tradition vs. Commercial Exploitation
Here’s where things get complicated. The arrival of colonizers and modern states often suppressed these traditional games, labeling them as “uncivilized” or “sinful.” But in a strange twist, the late 20th century saw a new phenomenon: the rise of commercial, state-sanctioned casinos on Indigenous lands, particularly in North America.
This has created a complex and often painful duality.
| The Traditional Game | The Modern Casino |
| Community-focused | Profit-driven |
| Spiritual/social significance | Primarily economic significance |
| Wealth redistribution | Wealth accumulation (for the house) |
| Cultural preservation | Often a response to economic marginalization |
For some communities, casinos have been a vital tool for achieving economic self-sufficiency. They fund healthcare, education, and infrastructure. They are a form of modern sovereignty. That said, the spiritual and social essence of the old games is, well, entirely absent from the fluorescent glow of a slot machine.
This creates a real tension. The very thing that was once suppressed (gambling) is now, in a completely different form, a primary source of income. It’s a paradox many communities are navigating with careful thought.
Why This Distinction Matters Today
Understanding this cultural significance of Indigenous gambling games isn’t just an academic exercise. It’s crucial for several reasons.
- Cultural Respect: It prevents the erasure of rich, complex traditions by lumping them in with commercial gaming. Recognizing Slahal as a cultural ceremony, not just “gambling,” is a form of respect.
- Addressing Harm: The potential for problem gambling exists in all communities. But effective support and prevention must be culturally informed. You can’t address an issue without understanding its unique cultural context.
- Reclaiming Narratives: For Indigenous peoples, reviving traditional games is an act of cultural reclamation. It’s a way to assert identity and connect new generations with ancestral wisdom, separate from the commercial casino model.
So the next time you hear about “gambling” in an Indigenous context, pause. Consider the deep, resonant beat of a drum in a longhouse during a bone game. Think of the stories, the laughter, the community gathered not for individual gain, but for collective connection.
It’s a world away from the solitary click of a “spin” button. It reminds us that the games we play, and the reasons we play them, can tell us everything about who we are and what we truly value.



