While a major integrated resort can act as a powerful catalyst, it remains only one component of a compelling broader masterplan. A lack of comprehension regarding these strategic elements strips the project of its transformative power, reducing it to a mere commercial real estate project or, worse, just a gambling business, thereby marginalizing all potential spillover effects and missing the forest for the trees.
Unlearned lessons
The casino industry is a highly specialized niche, dominated by a select few international marquee brands that can be counted on one hand. Singapore was acutely mindful of this exclusivity when it embarked on a comprehensive market analysis to establish its gaming sector. The government sought high-level counsel from premier industry consultants to conduct exhaustive demand studies and formulate credible social-impact assessments.
This rigorous approach allowed for a clear articulation of the trade-offs and benefits to ensure the creation of a market-led industry that simultaneously upheld the social contract and national security. This meticulous planning gave birth to the still-nascent “Integrated Resort” (IR) model which became the cornerstone of Singapore’s global acclaim. Aspiring jurisdictions were quick to embrace and endeavor to emulate this model, viewing it as the gold standard to mitigate the polarizing Marmite effect that plagues gambling deregulation.
Japan’s folly, by contrast, lay in the government’s failure to recognize this inherent complexity, a shortcoming further exacerbated by the conflation of political agendas and commercial interests. A novice without a maestro to guide the arrangement inevitably resulted in a cacophony of misaligned expectations rather than the harmonious masterplan required for success. This lack of fundamental understanding and the failure to enlist specialized subject-matter expertise lies at the crux of why Japan’s first bidding round fell decidedly flat.
Hands-off approach
The brevity of the announcement last week by the Japan Tourism Agency was troubling because it suggested again a lack of active participation or support from the central government. By appearing content to simply wait until 2027 to review proposals, the agency is leaving interested prefectural authorities to their own devices to synthesize a vision, assimilate plans, and select operators independently. This hands-off approach perpetuates the same systemic gaps that plagued the inaugural round, allowing ineligible and rogue actors to slip through the cracks.
Nagatacho is already sorely lacking in foundational expertise, a deficit that painfully exposed the vulnerability of prefectures with fewer resources and less intellectual capital. Ultimately, this lack of oversight transformed the bidding process into a laughingstock and triggered a mass withdrawal of interest from the industry’s major operators.
The scenario is begging a repeat fiasco where the only redeeming note would be Hokkaido Prefecture, where Tomakomai City had a 10-year head start in orchestrating a proper thematic blueprint in lockstep with Hard Rock International since 2015. Other hopefuls (Aichi, Mie, Nagasaki, among them) appear more likely to turn in formulaic and anemic bids. Without the proper structural framework in place, it is difficult to imagine any of them striking a chord or realizing the world-class integrated resort that Japan deserves.
Yet all is not lost if only the government turns to harness the considerable untapped resources of the Japan Casino Regulatory Commission. With nearly 200 bureaucrats available to reinforce the process, Japan could still recover from the stasis of Winter Daydreams into the triumph of Swan Lake and avert the ignominy of the older Mendelssohn sibling, bookmarked in posterity as a cautionary example of unrealized potential.
Dingnews.com 23/12/2025