More than a week after The Guardian revealed that New South Wales is losing $1 million (€620,000) an hour to poker machines, the silence from state leaders has grown louder. In the first 90 days of 2025 alone, residents lost $2.17 billion (€1.35 billion) to electronic gaming machines, a staggering figure that continues to escalate the NSW poker machine crisis, now widely seen as the fiercest regulatory standoff in years. Yet, as public health advocates double down and community harms escalate, critics say political hesitation is already costing lives and livelihoods. Wesley Mission’s analysis has become a rallying point, drawing fresh attention to what is fast becoming the state’s most pressing and unresolved gambling crisis.
Yes, losses are up 5.7 percent since Q1 last year, but that’s just the surface. Underneath runs a darker thread: the harm that clusters, a reform that falters, and a government tuning out warning after warning. Reform has begun, but the current pace and scope remain insufficient when measured against the depth of the NSW poker machine crisis.
Wesley Mission, which sits on the state’s expert gambling reform panel, now says the impact of poker machines is “deepening every day,” especially in Sydney’s western suburbs, where the losses are heaviest and the community fallout is most profound. This article unpacks the mechanics, challenges, and political fault lines behind what many are now calling a preventable crisis of policy design and regulatory will.
, the Wesley Mission figures have been shared widely across national media, with cross-party campaigners, mental health charities, and local leaders all calling for swifter action. Yet the numbers haven’t spurred the decisive political momentum reformers had hoped for. Instead, they’ve spotlighted an entrenched pattern: delayed decisions, diluted outcomes, and a system still failing its most vulnerable.
New South Wales is home to more than 87,000 poker machines, with venues spanning pubs, clubs and hotels. But it is in Western Sydney that the financial damage is most concentrated. According to the Wesley Mission analysis, Canterbury-Bankstown alone lost over $186 million across just 4,924 machines in 90 days, averaging $2 million a day.
Seven local government areas — Fairfield, Cumberland, Blacktown, Parramatta, Penrith, Campbelltown, and Canterbury-Bankstown — accounted for more than $766 million in losses in the first quarter of 2025. In Fairfield, that translates to an annual average loss of $3,255 per person, and that’s before accounting for non-gamblers in the calculation.
It’s no coincidence that poker machines pulse brightest where pockets run shallow. Western Sydney, with its patchwork of cultures and quieter access to help, has become a magnet for machines. These aren’t sleepy, end-of-day venues. They flicker long into the night, offering high-stakes play with barely a whisper from local authorities. The map of harm was sketched long before the lights came on, a pattern that SiGMA News recently analysed in detail in ‘Why slot machines love poor postcodes’. This creates a potent mix of accessibility, financial vulnerability, and environmental triggers that together embed loss into the geography.
The community fallout is wider than the headline figures suggest. Financial stress leads to housing insecurity, mental health issues, and domestic tension, a cascade of harm that Wesley Mission says is “deepening every day.” It’s this layered damage, they argue, that truly defines the NSW poker machine crisis.
Despite longstanding commitments to reduce the number of machines, the latest government figures show that the total number of operational machines has actually increased since 2024, directly contradicting harm reduction goals.
On paper, the NSW government has taken some steps. Since 2023, it has introduced a $100 million harm minimisation fund, banned signage for VIP gaming rooms, and reduced the maximum cash input for new machines from $5,000 to $500. Responsible gambling officers are now working across the state as a result of a government initiative.
However, critics argue these reforms are insufficient, given the scale of the problem. The government had pledged to remove 9,500 machines from circulation, a move welcomed by harm reduction groups. However, in March 2025, the government quietly abandoned that promise and replaced it with a cost-benefit rationale, claiming the $60 million required would have a negligible measurable effect. For reformers, the optics were damning.
“They promised a cut,” one campaigner said. “Then they walked it back.” The machines remained. So did the harm.
Most controversially, both technical and political inertia have stalled the cashless gaming card trial, held between March and September 2024. Although officials touted it as a breakthrough against money laundering and player harm, the initial trial drew only 162 users across 2,388 machines. The government has yet to respond formally to a roadmap delivered by its own Independent Panel in December 2024, a delay that Wesley Mission calls “a moral failure”.
Although the government framed the trial as a major breakthrough, it encountered technical problems and poor uptake from the outset. Critics pointed to poor patron communication, fragmented venue participation, and confusing interfaces. Yet perhaps most damning, say advocates, is the government’s silence: six months on, the government has failed to issue a formal response to the Independent Panel’s reform roadmap. Wesley Mission no longer calls it a delay. In their eyes, it is something colder. A vacuum where leadership should be.
The NSW Audit Office, in a performance review released in June 2025, noted that while regulatory structures were consistent, they were “not supporting harm minimisation outcomes effectively”. The report also found that six of the ten most profitable clubs, all in high-risk zones, had no additional harm reduction conditions on their licences.
The NSW poker machine crisis has become a battleground of clashing priorities between public health professionals, who are calling for urgent reform, and industry representatives, who defend what they see as community infrastructure. Clubs NSW and venue operators argue that poker revenue supports local sports, charity grants, and jobs. But, advocates like Wesley Mission counter that this model extracts wealth from the poorest communities to fund distractions rather than solutions. This is a dynamic echoed across other jurisdictions, as explored in a recent SiGMA News probe into UK high street gambling halls.
Gaming Minister David Harris has defended the government’s cautious pace, saying the focus is on “evidence-based gaming reform” and that behaviour change “takes time.” He confirmed that the machine entitlement cap has been reduced by over 3,000 since 2023, but did not commit to broader structural reforms.
Opposition gaming spokesperson Kevin Anderson took a different view. “The delays are just mind-boggling and so frustrating for industry,” he said, noting that pubs and clubs want regulatory certainty but are instead seeing “backtracking and hesitation.”
Internal disagreements within the reform process have further complicated efforts to deliver unified policy outcomes.
The composition of the Independent Panel has drawn sharp criticism. Alongside public health and compliance experts sit representatives from Clubs NSW, the Australian Hotels Association, and Gaming Technologies Australia. These are groups with clear commercial interests. Critics argue this has diluted the independence of the process, especially given that several panel members formally disagreed with the roadmap’s core recommendations. For reformers, it highlights a deeper problem: the reform process isn’t just slow; it’s also ineffective. It’s structured for resistance.
With gambling losses continuing to climb and community harm rising alongside them, Wesley Mission has renewed its calls for three core reforms:
“These are not radical ideas. They are basic public health protections,” said Stu Cameron, CEO of Wesley Mission. “If people were being harmed this severely by alcohol, drugs, or unsafe roads, the government would act. Gambling should be no different.” That comparison has become central to the reform campaign: treat gambling harm with the same urgency and structure applied to other health crises.
Whether the state government will heed that call remains uncertain. But what is clear is that the NSW poker machine crisis has now outgrown its piecemeal reforms. With $2.17 billion lost in just 90 days, the stakes are no longer theoretical. They’re hourly, they’re cumulative, and they’re bleeding through the fabric of the state’s most vulnerable communities.
As both the NSW Audit Office and Wesley Mission warn, the state’s current frameworks may be consistent, but they are not delivering effective harm reduction. Without a clear political will and effective regulation, the crisis will only deepen.
The crisis is not one of complexity but of priority. And until that changes, New South Wales risks falling further behind on one of the most preventable public health failures of the decade. As the story continues to gather momentum, the next few weeks could determine whether the government acts or whether history repeats once again.