Agenda

A few weeks ago, on Wednesday 30 August, to be exact, about 100 people gathered in a central London hotel for a discussion that lasted seven hours, including lunch and a coffee break.

The Casino Advisory Panel was conducting the first of seven hearings into the locations that it had shortlisted to be the site of the UK’s first regional or “super” casino.

The London hearing was conducted into the case put by Greenwich council and its partners for locating the super-casino on the site of the Millennium Dome, now called The 02.

By the end of the following week, the hearing would be repeated six times – the same questions, issues and regeneration themes being aired in Cardiff, Glasgow, Newcastle, Sheffield, Manchester, Blackpool.

It was a small blessing for Stephen Crow, the panel chairman, and his four colleagues that Brent had pulled out of the race in the week before its hearing was due to take place. But only a small one.

Greenwich fielded an array of its personnel and backers to state its case for casino-led regeneration, having already done so extensively in written form. Its deputy leader, chief executive and consultants and planning officers were out in force; Greenwich’s chamber of commerce was represented; the borough’s chief superintendent gave up his day, offering some impartiality but ultimately no dissenting voice. Notable bid supporters such as Sir Bob Scott and Eric Sorensen stuck it out for the duration; the Greater London Authority, the Government Office for London and the business lobbying group London First turned up to lend moral and vocal support.

They and the rest of us were here on sufferance, at the behest of the media and political opponents of the gambling industry whose campaign against the government’s plans for Las Vegas-style casinos had reduced the number of proposed casinos from eight to a pilot project of one.

Had the campaign been less vocal, the government’s plans would not have necessitated this bizarre ritual. The culture department and the Treasury could have set up a committee and sorted out the most appropriate venues for whatever number of regional casinos had been deemed acceptable.

Instead, reduced to having just one regional casino, the government shirked responsibility, decided to make the whole process look independent, brought in a former chief planning inspector and gave the unpalatable task to him.

The irony was apparent to anyone in that hotel that day. With respect to the participants, the Greenwich hearing was somewhat unedifying and laboured. But you could hardly blame that on Crow and his colleagues.

Ranged on the other side of the Greenwich council contingent were seats and place names for individuals, pressure groups and the Salvation Army, invited because of their stated concerns about Las Vegas being dumped on Greenwich.

There have been own goals, cover-ups and incompetence in this government-led regeneration project. But none of it has stirred much interest in the British public

Yet all the seats were empty, save for one occupied by a nice but not exactly strident representative of an east London research body.

It was down to this lady to represent the sum total of opposition that had brought such vitriol against the government, casino operators and councils that were advocating casinos in their back yards.

It would have been less lonely had the panel chosen to seat the Rev Malcolm Torry next to her. He was the Greenwich chaplain whose objection to the way Greenwich’s casino partners had written up the views of multi-faith groups led to fairly hysterical accusations of fabrication and foul play.

As a reflection of the confused and slightly shambolic process, Torry ended up seated amid the pro-casino party, sandwiched between Scott and the chamber of commerce.

Looking a little uncomfortable in his surroundings, it was little surprise that Torry shaped his concerns in guarded, almost apologetic tones.

The panel was expecting to encounter similarly muted levels of opposition at other hearings. In Glasgow, a 70-year-old Kirk elder addressed the panel. He was the only person to write to the panel objecting to Glasgow’s casino plans, albeit representing his local church. A university professor was the sole voice of dissent at Cardiff’s hearing.

Scott reflected the puzzlement of many when he explained the gap between the perceived reaction of the public and the attendance at public consultation meetings in Greenwich.

“I don’t think there was … a feeling there was nothing people could do about it. There were 30 or 40 people at each meeting and it’s hard to know why those who didn’t come didn’t come,” he told the panel.

“It’s like being a theatre manager with a slide show.”

There have been plenty of own goals, cover-ups and sheer incompetence in this government-led regeneration project to keep its critics occupied for several months. But even though several hundred people gave up an entire working day to pass collective judgment on this spectacle, none of it has stirred much interest in the British public.