While Chile debates how they should be taxed, an industry designed to exploit behavioral biases has been embedding itself—without significant resistance—in the phones of young people for years.
On June 2, 2026, the Internal Revenue Service (SII) issued Exempt Resolution No. 69, establishing mechanisms that allow online betting platforms—even those with no domicile or residence in Chile—to fulfill tax obligations within the country.
It is important to be precise: this is not a law passed by Congress; it does not comprehensively regulate the industry, nor does it resolve its legal status. Strictly speaking, it is an administrative decision regarding taxation. Yet, it marks a turning point.
In just three years, the debate has shifted from questioning whether these platforms could even be considered lawful activities for tax purposes to discussing how to integrate them into the Chilean tax system. Both sides see a grain of truth in this move. And both, once again, are looking the other way.
Betting platforms are not merely the digital version of a traditional casino. They are sophisticated technology companies—employing engineers, behavioral psychologists, and personalization algorithms—whose business is not gambling itself, but rather recurrence: ensuring that a 16-year-old comes back to bet tomorrow, the day after, and every day that follows. They do not compete for your time; they compete for your impulses.
That is the key difference compared to social media—a distinction rarely articulated clearly: TikTok wants you to keep scrolling. Online betting wants your money. Every notification, every “enhanced” odd, and every welcome bonus follows the same logic that made slot machines addictive, yet amplified by real-time data and delivered straight into the pockets of millions of people.
And young people are not collateral damage; they are the target.
The data already reveals the scale of the phenomenon: various studies indicate that between 14% and 26% of young people in Chile have engaged in online betting over the past year, with an average starting age of around 15 and a half. In other words, they are entering this circuit before they have even finished high school. Exposure to this is hardly marginal, either: a vast majority report having watched others play or having been exposed to these platforms.
This is not a matter of individual self-control. It is an architecture designed to ensnare people whose development is not yet complete.
The debate, however, has narrowed to the issue of taxation. And therein lies the shortsightedness.
Any economy aspiring to grow needs human capital: people who study, develop skills, innovate, and create value. Hours spent learning constitute a productive investment—both for the individual and for the country.
Betting works in the opposite direction. It promises gain without effort, returns without creation, and excitement without learning. On an individual level, it may seem like a choice. On an aggregate level, however, when that logic becomes normalized among millions of young people, we face a development problem that no tax can fix.
Other countries have already realized that the issue goes beyond simply “making them pay taxes.” Colombia, for instance, established a dedicated agency to license and oversee online platforms, mandating controls on underage access and implementing a tax scheme that also levies charges on certain winnings. In the United Kingdom, authorities have tightened regulations, requiring the monitoring of risk patterns, restricting bonuses for vulnerable players, and penalizing misleading advertising. These frameworks combine revenue generation and user protection with clear limits on the business model.
The solution is not prohibition. International experience shows that this merely drives the activity underground, where safeguards vanish.
Yet, simply formalizing the industry and collecting taxes is not enough, either.
What is missing—and what makes for an uncomfortable discussion—is regulation with teeth: effective protection for minors, not mere lip service; real limits on targeted advertising, not symbolic self-regulation; transparency regarding the algorithms that determine exposure and risk; restrictions on variable reward mechanisms; and early financial education, implemented before betting becomes more natural than saving.
Resolution No. 69 will continue to make its way through the courts and Congress. But the fundamental risk lies elsewhere. The issue is that, while Chile debates how they should be taxed, an industry designed to exploit behavioral biases has spent years establishing itself—without significant resistance—on young people’s phones.
When a society normalizes the fact that its adolescents—who begin betting as early as age 15—are the target market for that business model, the problem ceased to be a matter of taxation long ago.
It is a cultural issue. It is an educational one. And if it is not addressed now, it will become an economic problem far harder to reverse than any tax exemption ruling.
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