Cambodia: Riel of Fortune

For much too long, Cambodian Chief of State Norodom Sihanouk fretted over the addiction of his "petit peuple" to gambling. All his antigambling laws —and regular police crackdowns on Pnompenh's 40-odd illegal houses of chance—had no effect. Cambodians and the equally avid Chinese and Vietnamese residents in the capital continued to gamble their riels away. Profits to the illicit houses were put at about $20 million a year.

Unable to beat the houses, Sihanouk decided to go them one better. Now le tout Pnompenh is flocking to a spectacular riverside gambling complex, opened as a government monopoly in February. Inside a huge casino, thousands challenge the laws of chance in an assortment of card and dice games; in nine nearby air-conditioned chalets, the more affluent play roulette, chemin de fer and mah-jongg. Of the daily winnings of $75,000, the government skims off $40,000, while $25,000 goes to cover operating expenditures. The rest of the take is divided among 25 concessionaires, including several owners of now-closed illegal houses.

The benefits have been felt across the board. Government revenues are up 10% over last year, thanks entirely to the new operation. Cambodia's local industries have benefited: all the pieces of casino equipment—including dice, roulette wheels, cards and chemin de fer "shoes"—are made at home. Several pawnshops have sprung into existence to help out unlucky bettors.

Sihanouk at first ordained that, to give the operation a bit of class, each bettor must wear a tie. Standards slipped quickly. The basic gaming uniform now is simply shirt, long trousers and shoes. For barefoot peasants who have the dels to gamble, a rent-a-sandal business thrives just outside the casino entrance.