The "addictive personality" simply doesn't exist.
The truth about your addiction goes deeper than you think.
You must know someone like this:
They've tried to quit smoking eight times.
Each time they make a solemn vow,
but they fail by the third day.
Or maybe it's you:
Knowing full well that doomscrolling is a waste of time,
but your thumb just won't stop.
Then someone labels you as having an
"addictive personality."
As if you were born with weak willpower,
and addiction is a flaw written in your bones.
But
the evidence accumulated by neuroscience over the last 30 years
tells us something surprising.
The concept of
an "addictive personality"
is scientifically groundless.
No set of fixed personality traits can predict if someone will become addicted.
Impulsive people get addicted,
but so do those with low impulsivity.
Extroverts get addicted,
and so do introverts.
The so-called addictive personality
is a popular myth that has persisted for decades.
Hello,
everyone,
I'm Wang Lijie.
So what is the truth?
If it’s not a personality issue,
why are some people more prone to addiction than others?
Today, we'll break this down through two lenses:
One is modern neuroscience,
and the other is the Buddha's diagnosis from 2,500 years ago.
You will find
that these two lines converge at the deepest level.
Let's start with the science.
In 1993,
Robinson and Berridge, two neuroscientists at the University of Michigan,
published a paper that changed the entire field of addiction research.
To date, this paper has been cited over 7,000 times.
The theory it proposed is called Incentive Salience Theory.
Its core idea can be summarized in one sentence,
but it subverts most people's understanding of addiction.
They said:
The essence of addiction
is not that you like something too much,
but that you want it too much.
"Liking" and "wanting"—
these two terms are almost interchangeable in daily life.
If you say, "I want a cup of coffee,"
it basically means you like drinking coffee.
But in the brain,
liking and wanting are driven by two completely different neural systems.
Liking
is the exact moment you actually experience pleasure:
the aroma of the coffee as it hits your tongue,
the sweetness of the first bite of ice cream.
This pleasure is generated by very small,
fragile clusters of neurons in the brain.
It mainly involves the endorphin system.
Berridge calls them "hedonic hotspots."
They are located in specific subregions of the nucleus accumbens and brainstem,
totaling only a few cubic millimeters.
Wanting
is the force that attracts, drives, and pulls you toward something.
This system is much larger than the pleasure system
and far more robust.
Its core driver is dopamine.
I must correct a widespread misconception here:
Dopamine is not the "pleasure molecule."
Dopamine is the "desire molecule."
It's not responsible for making you feel good;
it's responsible for making you want.
When your brain releases dopamine,
what you experience is not satisfaction,
but a drive toward a goal—
a sense of urgency for something you haven't yet obtained.
Under normal circumstances,
"Wanting" and "liking" are normally linked.
What you want typically makes you happy,
and what makes you happy, you typically want.
But the horror of addiction is that
repeated exposure to addictive substances causes the "wanting" system
to undergo a neural adaptation called "sensitization."
The "wanting" circuit becomes increasingly sensitive
and is triggered more and more easily.
As for the "liking" circuit?
It stays the same,
or even shrinks.
What does this mean?
The brain of an addict works like this:
They crave the substance desperately,
but they don't actually feel much joy once they get it.
Have you ever seen the face of a heavy smoker lighting up?
There is rarely a look of satisfied enjoyment;
it's more like a sense of relief from suppressing agitation.
They aren't chasing pleasure;
they are being chased by desire.
In 2019, Nora Volkow, Director of the National
Institute on Drug Abuse, noted in a review paper
that drug-induced dopamine release in an addict's brain
is actually significantly lower than in a healthy person.
However,
dopamine release triggered by "addiction cues" is far higher than normal.
In plain English:
The actual use isn't that pleasurable anymore,
but the desire to use is stronger than ever.
This is why addicts say,
"I know it's bad for me,
and I don't even really enjoy it,
but I just can't stop."
It's not a failure of willpower.
It's that the "wanting" and "liking" systems have been torn apart.
Even more unsettling,
this sensitization is long-term, and potentially permanent.
Robinson and Berridge published a 30th-anniversary
review of this theory in 2024,
confirming a key conclusion:
Once sensitization occurs,
even after years of abstinence,
the "wanting" system remains highly sensitive.
A visual cue,
a specific setting,
or a certain smell
can reignite that urge in milliseconds.
That's why a recovering addict can still relapse after ten years.
And this mechanism doesn't just apply to drugs and alcohol.
A 2022 study found
the same dissociation between wanting and liking
in gambling, binge eating, and gaming addiction,
social media dependence, and even shopping addiction.
You can't stop scrolling short videos
not because every video is good,
but because your "wanting" system is constantly ignited by the algorithm,
while "liking" can't keep up.
You are chasing a shadow you can never catch.
Is anyone naturally more prone to sensitization?
Yes.
This involves the genetics of addiction.
Scientists have found that
roughly 40% to 60% of addiction susceptibility is due to genetic factors.
One of the most studied variants is the dopamine D2 receptor gene.
People carrying certain variants
are born with fewer D2 receptors in their brains.
What does having fewer D2 receptors mean?
It means that normal rewards—
a good meal,
post-exercise euphoria,
laughter among friends—
the satisfaction these provide in your brain
is naturally weaker than in others.
Your reward baseline is born low.
Scientist Kenneth Blum named this state
Reward Deficiency Syndrome (RDS).
Note:
This isn't an "addictive personality."
It is an innate biochemical difference.
It doesn't determine if you will become addicted,
But it makes you more susceptible when encountering potent stimuli.
It's like being born with thinner skin;
it doesn't mean you'll definitely get sunburned,
but you are more vulnerable under a scorching sun.
Alright.
Let's pause the science for a moment.
I want you to think back to our episode on the Agama Sutra.
2,500 years ago, the Buddha diagnosed human suffering.
What did he say was the fuel for suffering?
It was craving.
In Pali, it's called 'Tanha,'
which literally means thirst.
Not just a normal 'want,'
but a burning thirst in the throat,
the kind that won't stop until the goal is met.
Don't you find this description
strikingly similar to Berridge's definition of 'wanting'?
Berridge said
wanting is a driving force independent of pleasure.
You can dislike something
yet still want it desperately.
The Buddha said
the nature of craving is that it can never be satisfied.
Because the essence of craving isn't directed at the object;
it is directed at the thirst itself.
You think you thirst for water,
but after drinking, the thirst remains,
because the thirst isn't in the water;
it's in your system.
The Buddha categorized craving into three types.
Kama-tanha:
The pursuit of sensory pleasure.
This corresponds to substance and behavioral addictions.
Bhava-tanha:
The attachment to a state of being.
'I must become a certain person;' 'My public image must not fail.'
This corresponds to addiction to identity, status, or social validation.
Vibhava-tanha:
The craving for non-existence—
the wish for everything to just disappear.
This corresponds to avoidant addiction:
using alcohol, drugs, or endless entertainment to numb oneself.
These three types of craving
cover the entire spectrum of modern addiction science.
2,500 years ago, there were no MRIs,
and 'dopamine' wasn't a word.
Yet, through pure introspection,
the Buddha accurately described this exact mechanism.
An even more precise mapping is found in the Twelve Nidanas.
The core chain of the Twelve Nidanas is:
Ignorance, Volition, Consciousness, Name and Form, Six Senses, Contact,
Feeling, Craving, Clinging, Becoming, Birth, and Old Age/Death.
I won't elaborate on every link;
I just want you to focus on the three most critical middle ones:
Feeling, Craving, and Clinging.
'Feeling' (Vedana)
is sensation.
You encounter a stimulus,
producing a pleasant or unpleasant feeling.
In neuroscience,
this corresponds to the initial encoding of a reward signal,
the first surge of dopamine.
'Craving' (Tanha)
is the thirst.
After the feeling arises,
your system automatically generates an impulse to 'want.'
This is exactly the core of incentive sensitization—
a cue-triggered 'wanting' response.
'Clinging' (Upadana)
is grasping.
'Wanting' escalates into action.
You begin to chase and grasp, refusing to let go.
This corresponds to Koob's third stage of addiction:
compulsive drug-seeking.
Feeling, Craving, Clinging.
Sensation, Thirst, Grasping.
The Buddha's Chain of Causality and the modern three-stage model of addiction.
[MISSING]
Structurally, they are almost completely isomorphic.
But the Buddha saw a deeper level than neuroscience.
He said,
the real breakpoint in this chain is not at 'feeling,'
because you cannot exist without feelings,
nor is it at 'clinging,'
because by the time you reach clinging, it's already too late.
The behavioral impulse has already been triggered.
The real breakpoint is between 'feeling' and 'craving'—
the gap after a feeling arises but before craving begins.
How short is that gap?
Perhaps only a few hundred milliseconds.
But the Buddha said,
if you can remain mindful in that gap,
seeing the feeling arise
without being led by it into craving,
the chain is broken.
The entire cycle of the Twelve Links stops at that point.
This sounds like a purely philosophical claim,
but neuroscience research from 2024
is now validating it.
A randomized controlled trial at Hangzhou Normal University found
that eight weeks of mindfulness training reduced addiction severity
among internet gaming addicts from 7.0 to 3.6.
Even more important is the brain imaging data.
Mindfulness training reduced activation in the bilateral lenticular nucleus,
the insula, and the medial prefrontal cortex.
These regions happen to be core nodes of the craving circuit.
Meanwhile, functional connectivity between the mPFC and lenticular nucleus increased.
This means the brain's top-down control over craving signals improved.
Translating this into Buddhist terms:
mindfulness inserts a wedge of awareness between feeling and craving.
You still feel the stimulus,
but you are no longer automatically carried away by it.
Garland found even more striking results in a 2022 study
on opioid abusers.
Mindfulness meditation significantly enhanced frontal midline theta waves.
This enhancement is linked to an experience called 'self-transcendence,'
characterized by self-dissolution, non-dual awareness, and deep peace.
Garland found that
it is this self-transcendence that mediates the suppression of addictive behavior.
This discovery reminds me of a vital concept in Buddhism:
Manas-vijnana.
It is the 'seventh consciousness' in Yogacara philosophy.
Its sole job is to label every experience as 'mine.'
You take a puff of a cigarette,
and Manas says, 'I' am enjoying this.
You quit for three days,
and Manas says, 'I' am suffering.
You see someone successfully quit,
and Manas says, 'I' want to do that.
Notice this:
no matter how the content changes,
the 'I' created by Manas is always present.
Garland's research suggests
that mindfulness breaks the addiction circuit
not just by strengthening cognitive control,
but by temporarily loosening the structure of the 'self' itself.
When the Manas that constantly says 'I want' falls silent,
the 'wanting' loses its subject.
If there is no 'I' wanting,
wanting itself becomes like a fire without fuel—
it naturally goes out.
We mentioned earlier
that Berridge sees addiction as the separation of 'wanting' and 'liking.'
The Buddha's diagnosis was even more extreme.
He said
the problem isn't just that wanting and liking have separated;
it's that you should never have built satisfaction on the 'wanting' system at all,
because wanting was never factory-designed to make you satisfied.
It's a perpetual motion machine evolution installed in your brain
to keep you forever chasing,
forever moving.
The primitive humans who stopped were eliminated;
the genes that never stopped chasing survived.
So, what is the predicament we face today?
Evolution gave you a never-ending engine of desire,
and modern civilization has hooked that engine up to infinite fuel:
short videos, social media, delivery food, online gambling, instant messaging.
Every product is precisely engineered to activate your 'wanting' system.
You are not a weak-willed person.
You are someone with a Stone Age brain facing Space Age temptations.
So, what can be done?
The solution from science and the solution from the Buddha
are identical in their underlying logic.
It is not about fighting desire;
it is about seeing desire.
Traditional addiction treatment emphasizes cognitive control,
telling you to resist impulses
and use willpower to suppress desire.
But neuroscience has discovered
that this method has limited effectiveness.
Because cognitive control relies on the prefrontal cortex,
while the addiction's "wanting" circuit is subcortical—
it is faster and more powerful.
Using the prefrontal cortex to suppress the dopamine system
is like using a toothpick to stop a truck.
The mindfulness strategy is completely different.
It doesn't ask you to fight desire;
it asks you to change your relationship with it.
You no longer try to eliminate the impulse of "wanting."
You simply watch it arise,
watch it exist,
and watch it fade away.
If you don't feed it,
it starves to death.
In a 2019 paper, Judson Brewer proposed a brilliant point.
He said mindfulness represents a more fundamental intervention than cognitive control.
Cognitive control is a tug-of-war between the prefrontal cortex and subcortex,
but mindfulness directly changes the value encoding of reward learning.
When you observe craving with awareness,
the orbitofrontal cortex re-evaluates the actual reward value of that craving.
You will realize
that this impulse of "wanting" does not bring you pleasure,
but rather more unease.
This discovery itself updates your brain's reward prediction model.
Your brain starts to learn
that chasing this impulse is not worth it.
The Buddha called this process "Vipassana" or clear seeing.
See that craving is just craving.
It is not you.
It does not belong to you.
It does not represent you.
When you stop identifying with it,
it loses its power to drive you.
This reminds me of a concept from our discussion on Bodhidharma and Emperor Wu:
"Greed for Zen bliss."
A practitioner upgrades from craving material goods to craving the bliss of meditation.
The type of addiction changed,
but the mechanism of addiction remains exactly the same.
What does this show?
It shows addiction isn't exclusive to certain substances or behaviors.
It is a factory setting of the consciousness system itself.
As long as there is an "I" seeking satisfaction,
the seeds of addiction remain.
Quit smoking,
and you might become obsessed with fitness.
Quit fitness,
and you might become obsessed with spiritual practice.
Quit practice,
and you might become obsessed with the thought: "I have quit everything."
So the ultimate answer isn't to find a
"healthy addiction" to replace an "unhealthy" one.
The ultimate answer is to see through the structure of addiction itself:
The system that constantly generates "I want";
The Manas-vijnana that constantly labels experiences as "mine";
The illusion that satisfaction lies in the next acquisition.
See through it—
not to destroy desire,
but to stop being held hostage by it.
Berridge spent thirty years proving
that you can frantically want something you don't even like.
The Buddha said the same thing 2,500 years ago,
just using different words.
He said:
The fire of craving is not lit by the outside world;
it's your own ignorance adding the fuel.
What needs extinguishing is not the fire,
but the hand that adds the wood.
What do you think is your biggest addiction right now?
Does that addiction bring you genuine happiness,
or is it just an unstoppable force of habit?
Feel free to share your experience in the comments.
I am Wang Lijie.
See you next time.