The War On Slots
Gaming operations on U.S. military bases come under fire, but are critics missing the target?
by Rob Wiser
You might be surprised to learn the casino boss with the biggest bankroll of them all isn’t Steve Wynn, Sheldon Adelson or any of the other usual suspects. It’s Uncle Sam. On American bases overseas, there are thousands of slot machines, provided for the entertainment of our troops and run by the military. (But only in countries where gambling is permitted; you won’t find reel spinners in Iraq or Afghanistan.)
According to a 2005 report in The New York Times, on U.S. bases in countries including Germany, Italy, Spain and South Korea, about $2 billion flows through military-owned video slot machines at officers’ clubs, activities centers and bowling alleys each year. (The exact number of machines and slot-friendly bases isn’t publicly known, though it’s estimated to be in the neighborhood of 3,000-4,000.) The armed forces clears about $120 million of this money, with the rest of the handle flowing back to players in the form of jackpots. On domestic bases, bingo programs take in an additional $7 million per year in profit, on revenues of $45 million.
Here at Strictly Slots, we were pleased to learn that all of this money ultimately flows back to our men and women in uniform, since slot revenue is used to fund recreation programs for overseas troops—from putting on concerts, to constructing swimming pools, movie theaters, golf courses and family activity centers. The revenue is also used to provide troops returning from Iraq and Afghanistan with discounted vacations at a variety of locales—from Disney World to Hawaii resorts, and even lodges in the German Alps.
“The benefits go back to the community,” said Lt. Col. Les Melnyk CQ, a Pentagon spokesman. “It’s a more controlled atmosphere than if they go off the base, and, frankly, the odds (on the slot machines) are more favorable than ones you find in casinos elsewhere.” With payback percentages reportedly averaging around 94%, the military’s machines are a better gamble than those found in many civilian casinos.
These revenues are a mere drop in the bucket for a military with an annual budget of more than $500 billion, yet Pentagon officials have called these slots “an essential and harmless source of funding” for recreation programs that keep troops happy and enlisted. Slots also provide a diversion for troops that are stuck on base in remote locations.
In a statement released by the Pentagon, Undersecretary of Defense Leslye Arsht said gambling on bases and posts provides “a controlled alternative to unmonitored host-nation gambling venues and offers a higher payment percentage, making it more entertainment oriented than that found at typical casinos.”
Peter Isaacs, chief operating officer of the Army’s Community and Family Support Center—which runs the military’s largest slot machine program—told The New York Times, “We do not operate [slot machines] strictly to extract profit. Our soldiers have told us they want access to the same games and gambling opportunities available to the civilians they are defending.”
Isaacs also noted that the maximum jackpots are relatively low, since the military doesn’t want to “encourage people to blow the rent money chasing a $1 million payout.” He also added that, “the vast majority of the troops use the machines responsibly.” And, according to Rich Gorman, who oversees the Army’s recreational activities, slot players on base can risk only $2.50 at a time, although there is no limit on how many times they can play.
Slots have, in fact, been a staple of overseas military life for decades—but they’ve also been a source of controversy. In 1951, after a series of scandals, the machines were banned from domestic military bases. In 1972, slots were pulled from Army and Air Force bases after more than a dozen people were court-martialed for skimming cash from machines in Southeast Asia during the Vietnam War. But 1,500 machines remained on Navy and Marine Corps bases overseas, and in 1980, the Army and Air Force started to bring machines back to many of their overseas bases. Today, the Army runs the Marine Corps and Navy slot machine programs, while the Air Force continues to run its own program.
Last December, the debate over whether slots belong on U.S. military bases resurfaced in the media. Rep. Lincoln Davis (D-Tenn.), a Southern Baptist who opposes gambling on moral grounds, introduced a bill that would prohibit military bases from offering gambling devices, with the exception of charitable events and state lotteries.
He titled it the Warrant Officer Aaron Walsh Stop DOD-Sponsored Gambling Act, naming it in the memory of a decorated Apache helicopter pilot, Aaron Walsh, who developed an extreme gambling addiction while stationed at U.S. bases in Germany and South Korea. He was eventually forced to resign from the Army and took his own life after spending a period of time living on the streets of Las Vegas.
Davis, the most outspoken opponent of military-run gambling operations, stated, “It is wrong for the U.S. government to use gambling to pay for what we [in Congress] should be supplying for our troops to begin with.”
Other critics have said that people drawn to military life are more predisposed to become problem gamblers than ordinary civilians, since they tend to be young, highly competitive and unafraid to take risks. The stresses of military life, they say, is another factor that might compel some soldiers to gamble irresponsibly.
There is no conclusive evidence, however, to support these theories. A 2003 survey conducted by the Pentagon’s Survey of Health Related Behaviors Among Military Personnel showed that about 1.2 percent of all service members, or about 17,500 people, had reported five or more gambling problems over their lifetime. That figure is roughly in sync with the civilian population.
Several years prior, Congress asked the Pentagon to examine how on-base slot machines might be affecting military families. The final report provided no new data about the rate of problem gambling among military personnel, though PricewaterhouseCoopers, the company that was originally hired by the Pentagon to conduct the study, noted in its findings “a general lack of accessible treatment for gambling addiction.” It seems to us that the real issue—the one that needs be addressed, rather than debating with grandstanding politicians about the morality of gambling—isn’t whether slot machines are an appropriate source of funding for recreational programs, or whether troops are more likely to become problem gamblers. (According to the research, they’re not.) And it’s not a question of the military taking money from the troop’s pockets, since all of the revenue flows back to them in the form of recreational programs.
The issue is this: for the small percentage of service members who develop unhealthy gambling habits, treatment needs to be readily available—just as it’s offered for those with other types of addictions. And this topic involves more than just those troops who are stationed overseas. Whether slots are found on bases or not, service members are going to gamble. There are casinos, both domestic and foreign, located near U.S. bases all across America and around the world. (I see plenty of soldiers patronizing the casinos of Las Vegas when they’re on leave, gambling responsibly and enjoying themselves as any of us would.)
The two in-patient gambling addiction programs that did exist for military personnel—at Camp Pendleton, California, and in Okinawa, Japan—are now closed. Only a few bases, including Nellis Air Force Base in Las Vegas, are able to rely on nearby veterans’ hospitals or local Gamblers Anonymous chapters to treat service members in need.
This is not sufficient. Service members with virtually any other health issue, physical or psychological, are provided with treatment options, whether they’re stationed in California or Korea. Yet, when it comes to gambling, the military and its vast bureaucracy are not providing basic—but vital—support programs.
As a form of entertainment, slots are no more dangerous than bowling or golf when enjoyed responsibly by the great majority. But the potential for addiction does exist, and for that reason, this issue can’t be swept under the rug. Steps need to be taken.
It’s doubtful whether Davis’ bill will gain much traction in Congress, since, with a war in progress, there are many more pressing issues to attend to. But Davis’ bill raises a larger, and more controversial issue: How far should Congress go to regulate military life? Certainly, one can make the argument that if our brave men and women in uniform can be trusted to handle jet fighters and nuclear weapons, they’re more than responsible enough to handle a few slot machines in the corner of the rec room.
Rep. Joe Sestak (D-Pa.), a retired admiral, may have said it best: “There is a fine line between asking young men and women to give the ultimate sacrifice and make life-and-death decisions, and then saying that they are not mature enough to make conscious decisions on their own. Where do you draw the line?