We tend to assume scam victims simply ‘believed the unbelievable’. However, my research suggests something more subtle: many people don’t fully believe the story. Instead, they bet on a fantasy – one that feels close enough to reality to keep them paying to sustain it.
I came to this problem because, despite the huge financial and psychological harms scams cause, there has been surprisingly little philosophical exploration on how they succeed. Psychology explains a lot: high-pressure calls that trigger panic, highly plausible ‘spoofed’ emails from a solicitor that divert funds or frightening claims of identity theft that cause us to make rash decisions. Those make sense. What’s puzzling are the long-running, obviously fictional scams – particularly romance scams – in which cognitively competent people hand over thousands of dollars, sometimes over a period of many months.
Many victims remain suspicious throughout the entire process. They ask for proof or spot red flags. Yet the transfers continue – usually small sums that increase over time, maybe $1000 for a plane ticket, $1500 for an emergency then another fee. Complete belief isn’t required; something else is doing the work.
Scammers don’t need to convince us that the story is true. They only need to make it just plausible enough, and emotionally attractive enough, to make it worth betting on.
Take this example: Me becoming Prime Minister is wildly unlikely and would require the world to change in countless ways. Winning the lottery is also wildly unlikely, but it doesn’t require any changes to reality; my numbers just have to come up. When the fantasy is close enough that it feels touchable, it’s powerfully motivating.
Gambling on love
Romance scams exploit the same structure. The target of a scam thinks: ‘Maybe he really is a wealthy businessman who loves me’. Crucially, that payoff isn’t only in the future (we’ll live in a mansion someday); it is also in the present (he loves me now). That present-tense reward makes the gamble feel worth it, even when doubts linger. And because requests come incrementally, the stakes feel manageable at each step, even as they accumulate into devastating losses.
But more than a few romance scams begin with a high degree of implausibility. Consider the people who have sent money to scammers claiming to be Willie Nelson, Jennifer Aniston or Keanu Reeves. Some are older and may be experiencing cognitive decline, but others are young, seemingly competent people who share their own experiences Reddit. The scammers will offer cover stories (Keanu Reeves’ finances are tightly controlled by his manager; that’s why he needs money to come and visit you). These cover stories don’t genuinely convince, but they are not designed to. Rather, they offer just enough to induce a fantasy worth betting on.
Scammers also use intermittent reward – the slot-machine effect. Victims describe cycles of love-bombing followed by ghosting or sudden anger. Withdrawal amplifies craving; reconciliation delivers relief. This pattern dysregulates and makes people more compliant.
Isolation also plays a part. A scammer masquerading as a celebrity, for example, might urge the victim to keep their communication a secret, cutting the victim off from possible reality checks from friends and family.
Perhaps most heartbreaking is the ‘recovery scammers’, who lurk in support forums, targeting recent victims with promises to retrieve stolen money, only to scam them again.
Recognising different types of scams
Not all scams trade in fantasy. Some are frighteningly plausible and well-evidenced: an email that perfectly mimics your solicitor at settlement time, or a caller claiming to be law enforcement, saying your identity has been used in a crime. Anyone can fall for scams under pressure.
Romance scams are less plausible, but loneliness, isolation or bad timing can make people more vulnerable.
At the other end of the scale are investment ‘pig-butchering’ scams: a wrong-number text becomes a friendly chat, then an introduction to a crypto ‘opportunity’. You watch a fake balance go up and up; when you try to withdraw, fees cascade. Here, too, people bet – not because they are gullible, but because the reward looks near at hand and already half-real on the screen.
Charlotte Cowles, who was a finance journalist for the New York Times, handed over $50,000 in a shoebox to a stranger in 2023. In an article for The Cut, she wrote: “I never thought I was the kind of person to fall for a scam.”
How to avoid being scammed
So how do we protect ourselves from being scammed? First, we need to remove the stigma. If people can raise early doubts without being mocked, they’re more likely to escape. Too often, the fear of looking foolish keeps the bet alive – sunk costs of money and self-image.
We can also educate ourselves and others – particularly vulnerable people including the elderly, or those feeling isolated or lonely. Simple habits help: don’t answer unknown numbers; don’t respond to wrong-number text. Never click or call from a message – go to the institution directly. Blocking, deleting and refusing to engage are good lines of defence.
Recognising the patterns of a scam, such as love-bombing, secrecy, urgent small transfers, fees on attempted withdrawals, anger or ghosting followed by relief, can also help puncture the fantasy.
I am not optimistic about easy structural fixes to scams. Much of the money goes overseas and usually, once it’s gone, it’s gone. Operations range from small opportunists to large, well-connected criminal enterprises. Some scam centre workers are trafficked or coerced themselves. But we can reduce harm by understanding the mechanism.
People don’t necessarily ‘believe the unbelievable’.
In the right circumstances, ordinary, rational people are drawn into betting on a story that is attractive, just plausible enough, and – most dangerously – offers a reward that feels true right now. The way out begins with compassion, conversation, and a pause before placing the next bet.
Neil Levy (above) is a Professor of Philosophy in the School of Humanities at Macquarie University. His research paper ‘Betting on Scams’ was published in the journal Social Epistemology.
