Another report into the mismanagement of a casino. Stern words and resolutions from all the right people. But little optimism that improvements can be made. There might be another way to manage these gaudy palaces of misery, writes Mark Sawyer.
The operators of Sydney’s Star casino have been found unfit. Quelle surprise! It’s Deidre Chambers, to quote Muriel’s Wedding. What a coincidence!
A 1000-page report into Star Entertainment Group by solicitor Adam Bell painted a grim picture. The report was released on Tuesday after a royal commission-style inquiry by the NSW gaming regulator found that the casino’s operations was repeatedly breached the law, misled banks and were infiltrated by criminal elements.
AAP reports that the newly established NSW Independent Casino Commission has issued a show-cause notice, forcing the casino group to explain why it shouldn’t face disciplinary action.
The inquiry was sparked after media reports alleged Star enabled suspected money laundering, fraud and foreign interference, and organised crime, at gaming venues including its Sydney casino.
Star is bathed in shame but they are not Robinson Crusoe. There have been adverse findings against the Crown casinos in Sydney, Melbourne and Perth.
Maybe we are getting the wrong end of the stick?
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Maybe we should cordon off these garish palaces of sin and let the craziness rip. As long as a couple of beefy security guards delivered, say, half a million dollars in unmarked bills to the state treasury every Thursday, all bets would be off. I mean, on! All bets would be on!
Forget the regulation. That’s a joke. It can’t happen. Every time we hear about an inquiry into a casino, we hear about the big three: organised crime, money laundering and drug dealing.
There’s a new sheriff
Casino operators are routinely found to be unsuitable to hold the licence. But who is? Organised crime of course. The emphasis being on ”organised”. The very opposite of chaos. Just try to keep the associated mayhem to a dull roar will you, chaps and chappesses?
Of course, there would be some in-house rules. Sly boozing is OK. Nobody under 18, but don’t feel you have to hold anyone’s feet to the fire. Teenagers, clad in their formal finery, are already a sight, chundering on the harbourside pavements across the road from Sydney’s Star.
Drugs? On premises only, OK? Injecting rooms if you’re trying to get off the junk.
Money laundering? We don’t like it much, but what can you do? What are we doing now? Our banks have washed the money of all sorts of abusers, even child abusers. What’s a bit of illicit casino-bound cash?
Actually, it’s a disaster, but this proposal doesn’t make the problem any worse. As a new book by Nathan Lynch reveals, well over half of the money that is laundered in Australia goes through our property market. Can someone write a 1000-page inquiry into that ?
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Bouncers brawling with losing punters? Check. The casinos could suck in every rogue. Catch and kill their own. Baddies whacking other baddies. No guns, though, OK?
As much as humanly possible, everything will be all in house. The craziness starts in the foyer but it stops at the police line. Cops will cordon off the premises. Everybody exiting is patted down before they rejoin civilisation. That police presence, a cordon sanitaire between casino chaos and civilisation, will be pretty well the only cost burden on the state.
A world unto themselves
These places are already as close as we get to granting internal statehood. The beauty part of this proposal is that we regulate the buggery out of the bastards when patrons are entering and exiting. And the state would provide the high-priced booze – we’re not getting out of that racket in a hurry.
Punters, it’s caveat emptor. You lose your shirt, you lose your shirt. Get another one from the gift shop. You’ll be assigning your rights to the casino and renouncing any claims against the state. You’ll have to sign a legally binding document on entry. So, on the QT, don’t pick a fight with the bouncers. They are gods here, they rule. You have no recourse to the law that exists out here in civilisation.
Of course if you are stretchered out, our hospitals will attend to you. Just like now.
Deliveries would be needed. Pool cues, handy for breaking over the heads of recalcitrants who insist on shaking the non-paying pokie machines, would need to be brought in. Along with the overpriced booze and food. But we’re aiming as much as possible on a self-supporting ecosystem. But no laundry out. We’ve seen too many movies.
And no directors. Why? Because they are damn well useless. No adverse findings have been made against Star directors, a familiar saga in the corporate world. Star’s directors “didn’t have a clue what was going on in their own casino”, Philip Crawford, chief commissioner of the Casino Commission, said on Tuesday. They, like the rest of us, were clueless as to what was happening. We’ll let those ”organised” people look after the internal direction.
Revocation of the casino licence and the issuing of fines are among the options to be examined over the next fortnight. “Doing nothing is not an option,” Crawford told reporters.
It sure isn’t, Phil. We’re letting this beast off the leash. Oh, that’s right – it was never on the leash anyway. Stand back and watch the sparks fly. Wager, wench, wing it. It’s the way of the world in casino land.
Mark Sawyer is a journalist with extensive experience in print and digital media in Sydney, Melbourne and rural Australia.