Rigged game

How crazy is it that 1,460 people are driving one of the most important public-policy debates in a state of 6 million people?

The issue is casino gambling, and yesterday our once-reluctant state treasurer, Tim Cahill, got on board this speeding train. "I propose that . . . we open the door in Massachusetts to a competitive, spirited auction to locate resort destination casinos within our borders," Cahill told the Greater Boston Chamber of Commerce yesterday. (Note the plural use of casinos.)

Four years ago, Cahill, who has done a very credible job as treasurer after a rocky start, had quite a different take. "Casino gambling is wrong for Massachusetts. . . . I'm sure it's going to cannibalize what we already bring in," he told the Boston chamber in 2003.

Cahill's opinion matters. He is, after all, the keeper of the state lottery, the most efficient in the country at parting suckers from their money, and in taking the lottery issue off the table he is removing a major hurdle to moving ahead on casinos (plural). Two things have changed, he told me. First, he has come to believe that the lottery is a mature business with modest growth potential. But even more important is the Mashpee Wampanoags , who with federal recognition now in hand are in a position to force the gambling issue.

Whether you are for casino gambling or against -- and I am no fan of our exploding gambling culture that values chance over hard work and puts government in the role of encouraging its citizens to gamble ever more to support basic services -- the process that is taking us there is just nuts. Why should 1,460 people -- the good people of the Wampanoag tribe -- be driving a public policy decision that will have major consequences, good and bad, for the entire state for years to come?

Giving Indian tribes a license to print money as a make-up call for the horrors of the past is no better policy than paying reparations to African-Americans for the disgrace of slavery. We can't forget the mistakes of the long-ago past, but neither can we fix them by writing a check. We are one nation, and better for it.

The kind of reservation shopping that the Wampanoags are now engaged in is a sham. This is not about creating a tribal home, but finding the best location for a money machine allowed under the bizarre rules laid out by Congress. If the tribe wants to operate a casino, let it do it in its own backyard in Mashpee, not stuff it down the throat of a nice town like Middleborough.

The state is left playing defense. Cahill's plan is to create a competition for state-sponsored casinos aimed at producing more dollars for the C ommonwealth than an Indian-run casino, or at least giving the state some leverage. The Wampanoags understand that Cahill's initiative is good for them because it will allow the tribe to also move ahead with full-scale gambling. Noted tribe spokesman Scott Ferson: "It might take a few years, but the tribe would not have to share the revenue with the state. The tribe would keep all the money."

The implication is clear: If Harrah's or some other gambling company is going to have to return a large percentage of the take to the state -- Cahill notes that some states get as much as 50 percent of the take on slots -- and the Wampanoags do not, that is money that can be reinvested or put in someone's pocket. That is a considerable advantage for the tribe and its financial backers.

And what of the racetracks? How many casinos are we talking about, anyway? And how many more problem gamblers?

There is a lot more at stake here than the interests of 1,460 people.

Steve Bailey is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at bailey@globe.com or at 617-929-2902.