Journal articles on the topic 'Gambling Victoria'

A possible relationship exists between heightened accessibility to gambling and the development and maintenance of gambling problems amongst employees at gambling venues. This paper takes an interpretive approach to exploring how working in a gambling venue influences accessibility to gambling. Semi-structured telephone interviews were conducted with 40 hotel and club employees in Victoria, Australia. Data were analysed along three key dimensions of accessibility to gambling. In terms of physical accessibility, respondents generally felt shiftwork and split shifts heavily influence the times staff are likely to access gambling facilities. Aspects of social accessibility, including familiarity and comfort of gambling in the workplace, encouragement by other staff, and workplace cultures that do not deter staff gambling, were considered encouraging influences. Cognitive accessibility (or knowledge and understanding about gambling) was heightened by enhanced knowledge of gambling products and processes, greater knowledge of jackpot levels, a desire to know what competing venues are offering, and cognitive distortions around winning.

Local environment plays an important role in understanding gambling as a public health issue. This study uses help-seeking as an outcome measure for a local area analysis of problem gambling in Victoria, Australia. We used a cross-sectional ecological design to investigate the extent to which gaming industry and demographic, economic, and social factors are associated with rates of telephone and face-to-face counselling for problem gambling at the local government area level. Electronic gaming machine density was independently correlated with both types of help-seeking, with a range of local factors controlled. This study supports previous research that has consistently found an association between gaming machine density and problem gambling, using gaming machine expenditure as a proxy measure of harm. We build on previous work by confirming that this relationship exists when gambling harm is measured through two types of help-seeking.

Most people with gambling problems have at least one co-occurring condition and many experience multiple co-occurring conditions simultaneously. In many Western jurisdictions, a specialist service response has developed, with separate agencies and workforces established to respond to gambling problems. Despite the number of co-occurring issues that occur alongside gambling, research is limited on the prevalence of problem gambling across some service systems, such as mental health and family service sectors. However, it is reasonable to conclude that significant numbers of people with gambling problems are currently engaged in other health and welfare service sectors. Partnership work with other service sectors is therefore vital to respond to the needs of these people. In Victoria, Australia, a partnership program was established in gambling help services to improve integration and co-ordination between gambling, alcohol and drug, family support, and mental health service sectors. From the experience acquired in developing the program, we seek in this article to outline the benefits and challenges of implementing a cross-sector approach in gambling treatment service systems and to recommend effective strategies to develop a cross-sector approach, including creating an authorising environment at the government policy level.

The paper considers the influence of client characteristics and gambling behaviour as well as treatment modality on the resolution of gambling behaviour for 591 clients who sought help from the publicly-funded BreakEven counselling services in the state of Victoria between 1 July 1996 and 30 June 1997. Statistical data about clients and their consultations was collected in the form of a Minimum Data Set. On their own, client demographics accounting for 12% of the variance were identified as discriminating between problem gamblers who achieved some resolution of their gambling behaviour and those whose behaviour did not change. Variables associated with gambling behaviour accounted for 10% of variance and treatment variables for 12% of variance in treatment outcomes. Collectively, the three types of data could explain 26% of the variance in problem resolution. Importantly, these findings demonstrate that the resolution of problematic gambling behaviour is affected by a complex interplay of client characteristics, their gambling behaviour and the treatment they receive. It is argued that the evaluation of treatment programs for problem gambling, and potentially all counselling programs in the primary health arena, needs to include measures from each of these domains.

Gambling problems commonly co-occur with other mental health problems. However, screening for problem gambling (PG) rarely takes place within mental health treatment settings. The aim of the current study was to examine the way in which mental health clinicians respond to PG issues. Participants (n = 281) were recruited from a range of mental health services in Victoria, Australia. The majority of clinicians reported that at least some of their caseload was affected by gambling problems. Clinicians displayed moderate levels of knowledge about the reciprocal impact of gambling problems and mental health but had limited knowledge of screening tools to detect PG. Whilst 77% reported that they screened for PG, only 16% did so “often” or “always” and few expressed confidence in their ability to treat PG. However, only 12.5% reported receiving previous training in PG, and those that had, reported higher levels of knowledge about gambling in the context of mental illness, more positive attitudes about responding to gambling issues, and more confidence in detecting/screening for PG. In conclusion, the findings highlight the need to upskill mental health clinicians so they can better identify and manage PG and point towards opportunities for enhanced integrated working with gambling services.

AbstractObjective:To systematically audit the extent of unhealthy sponsorship within junior community sporting clubs and ascertain whether differences exist across geographical areas and sport types.Design:Club sponsorship data were assessed to determine the extent of unhealthy food/beverage, alcohol and gambling sponsorship using a cross-sectional design. Differences across geographical areas were assessed using logistic regressions.Setting:A stratified random sampling procedure was used to select thirty communities across the state of Victoria, Australia. Within each community, local clubs across the top eight participating junior sports were selected for audit.Participants:Sponsorship data were collected from 191 club websites and Facebook pages in September–November 2019.Results:Unhealthy sponsorships represented 8·9 % of all identified sponsorship arrangements. A quarter of all clubs accepted alcohol (25·6 %) and unhealthy food sponsors (25·9 %), and one-fifth of all clubs accepted high-risk food (unhealthy brands with large market share) (18·1 %) and gambling sponsors (20·4 %). Acceptance of unhealthy sponsorship differed across sport types with football, netball, cricket and soccer clubs having the greatest numbers. Compared with metro areas, a significantly greater proportion of sporting clubs in regional areas were affiliated with unhealthy food (32·7 % v. 19·6 %) and high-risk food sponsors (26·9 % v. 9·8 %). A higher proportion of clubs in low socio-economic status (SES), compared with the high SES areas, were affiliated with alcohol (33·9 % v. 16·5 %) and gambling sponsors (27·4 % v. 12·6 %).Conclusion:Victorian children participating in community junior sports are being exposed to marketing of unhealthy brands and products. Public health intervention is necessary to protect children from this exposure.

Previous studies have found significant differences between men and women who have sought help for problems associated with their gambling. While this raises the possibility of differing treatment needs, much of the research into treating problem gamblers is based on all-male samples. This article seeks to remedy this situation by reporting on sex differences in the treatment of 1,520 problem gamblers, almost half of whom are female, who sought help in the state of Victoria, Australia, between July 1996 and June 1997. In contrast to the primarily external concerns such as employment and legal matters reported by males, females attending for problem gambling counseling were more likely to report problems with their physical and intrapersonal functioning and were more likely to report resolution of their problems. Male clients were more likely to have their cases closed and be referred to other agencies for assistance.

The aim of this study is to explore local health and wellbeing plans and priorities by Victorian local governments (LGs), specifically to: (1) analyse how LG priority areas are described in comparison to the State-level plan; (2) identify differences between regional and metropolitan health priorities; and (3) identify differences between LGs with high and low socioeconomic status. Content analysis of 79 LG health and wellbeing plans was undertaken. Differences in health and wellbeing priorities between LGs were examined using the t-test for two proportions. In total, 20% of the plans did not specify actions to address health priorities. One in three (34%) did not specify how evaluation will be done. Alcohol and other drugs, gambling and housing were prioritised more by metropolitan LGs, whereas disease prevention was prioritised more in regional LGs. There was no significant difference in health and wellbeing priorities of LGs with high and low socioeconomic status except for gambling. State-level health and wellbeing plans should be sensitive to differences in priorities of LGs. There is a need for local plans to commit to specific actions and evaluation. This analysis provides basis for more community-reflective, State-level planning and calls for more emphasis on identifying actions and evaluation in local level planning.

The voluntary self exclusion program has been designed as one attempt to minimise the harm caused by problem gambling and electronic gaming machines. However, the program’s role as a genuine regulatory response is questionable. Few reporting requirements for gaming corporations and a reliance on an unsophisticated method of detecting self-excluded problem gamblers significantly undermine the purpose of the program. This paper considers the liability of gaming venues and corporations in circumstances where a self-excluded problem gambler has not been successfully excluded from the gaming venue. It is suggested that, in entering into the program, a problem gambler may be under a reasonable expectation that the gaming venue will assist in his or her endeavour to control the problematic gambling. Drawing primarily on the laws of Victoria, this article will discuss how the voluntary self-exclusion program is in need of reform so that it can better act as a harm minimisation mechanism. Further, the article will explore possible legal redress in contract, equity and under the Trade Practices Act 1974 (Cth), for problem gamblers who have participated in an ineffective voluntary self-exclusion program.

Approaches from the humanities that understand poker as a culture (rather than as a gambling pathology or an isolated gaming activity) can help to highlight the voices and stories of women and connect them to feminist and gender research. Stories by individual women who may or may not be feminists can be most usefully described as “perifeminist,” a description of the strategies to cope with sexism that do not necessarily involve either confrontation or negation. Understanding women’s poker stories within this framework can bring depth and breadth to the representation of female poker players in popular journalism, which generally characterizes female players as objects or accessories for male players. In this article, I analyze the gender politics of memoirs by Annie Duke and Victoria Coren, prominent female players whose texts are widely read, because these memoirs are a good place to look for perifeminist strategies and a sense of what being part of poker culture involves for women. Looking for and noticing the stories of female players and contextualizing them as part of the everyday experiences of gender politics can do much to make the lives of poker playing women more visible, and worthy of critical attention.

In The Old Curiosity Shop Dickens integrates a typically intricate variety of subplots, characters, and settings. And yet, more than his other novels, The Old Curiosity Shop has dismayed readers by its disunity and lack of design. By focusing on four of its seemingly disconnected motifis-the Punch and Judy show, the traveling waxworks, Gothicism, and gambling-I hope to show that a certain coherence is evident in the novel's preoccupation with questions of class position, class mobility, and the class status of various cultural practices. This preoccupation supplies as tight symbolic organization that underlies the disorder of the plot, but it does not indicate a thematically self-consistent text. On the contrary, the coherent symbolic economy of The Old Curiosity Shop is itself symptomatic of contradictions inherent in the ideological interleaving of Protestantism and capitalism in early Victorian England.

Abstract Over the past two decades, our understanding of the development of financial markets in the nineteenth century has been transformed by scholars working in two broad areas. Economic sociologists and literary scholars have explored the discursive underpinnings of the institutions of modern finance, deftly tracing the ways in which stock markets were legitimised through a growing association with science and statistics, and a simultaneous distancing from gambling and chance. From a very different perspective, quantitative analysis of shareholder registers and other archival records by economic historians and historical geographers has provided rich data giving a more precise picture of who invested and what they invested in. Valuable though this work has been, the gulf between the two approaches has resulted in a dearth of empirically grounded studies of the social and cultural dimensions of investment. An area particularly in need of greater exploration is the booming late Victorian print culture which purported to explain finance to new investors. This article offers a close reading of the financial journalism of Henry Labouchere, better known for his subsequent political career as a Liberal MP. Labouchere’s writings are deliberately riddled with contradictions, simultaneously legitimising and questioning the stock market, and switching between the roles of moral crusader and self-interested speculator. This carefully crafted performance encouraged an attitude of ‘knowingness’ towards finance among his readers which helps to explain why the stock market was able to grow in popularity even when it remained so closely associated with fraud.

Anyone who sets out to examine the theology behind Nonconformist social thought and action in the late nineteenth century has to answer two questions: Did such a theology exist? and Was it important? The second question is more fundamental. Twenty years ago John Kent argued that the realities of politics put an increasing strain on the late Victorian claim to a Christian conscience in public affairs, and that in any case Nonconformists did not enjoy a monopoly of moral concern in politics. Like other Liberals, they ‘found themselves trying to reconcile the older Cobden-type ideals of liberty, peace, arbitration and anti-militarism with a new belief in the positive values of an allegedly Christian British Empire’. The result was that ‘the struggle for political power coarsened their moral sensibility’. In such an analysis the emphasis falls on action rather than thought, and in domestic affairs particularly on the political campaigns for social purity, temperance, or against gambling, where they are easily dismissed as the result of evangelical pietism, class moralism, or social reaction. David Bebbington deliberately eschewed theology in his study of the Nonconformist Conscience. ‘Because the focus is on political issues that concerned Nonconformistsen masse’, he wrote, ‘the theological views of their leaders, and even their versions of the social gospel, do not loom large.’ In his thesis he also commented that ‘theology was largely unfashionable, even in sermons’, citing Charles Berry, a leading Congregationalist, as an example. Nevertheless, he did not deny that there was a theology.

Felix Carbury's name is a classically Trollopian bit of fun. The heir to the Carbury family estate is dubbed with the Latinate for “happy and fortunate” when Felix is in fact the active agent of its sorrow, loss of fortune, and impending demise. Though Felix's gambling, drinking, and indolence are the practices most dangerous to his family, Anthony Trollope frames his sexual habits as most dangerous to society and young readers. The narrator and other characters aptly call Felix “vicious” (21; ch.2, 132; ch. 17, 540; ch. 71), which is etymologically rooted in “vice.” Margaret Markwick's assertion that “viciousness” was Trollope's regular reference to “carnality or sexual licentiousness” (95) is helpful in understanding how Felix, and his fate, are being made to function in the discussion of male sexuality in which the novel engages. As a result of improper sexual liaisons, Felix descends from the status of eligible, aristocratic bachelor to contaminating social pariah. In the process, he ends up walking the streets in a parody of the desperation and police harassment that Victorian fallen women faced; loses his beauty in a symbolic disfigurement that mirrors the ravages of syphilis; and ends up banished not merely from his community but from the entire country. The plot explicitly states that Felix is exiled to prevent him from inflicting financial harm on women, but Felix's participation in the extratextual discourse on men's sexuality required that he also be expelled from the sexual economy to contain his potential for transmitting sexual contagion.

ABSTRAKRiwayat yang disajikan penulis Britania era Viktorian tentang perjalannnya ke Amerikamengasumsikan adanya sebuah jaringan prasarana transportasi. Sistem transportasiterkait dengan riwayat perjalanan (travel narrative) dalam tiga hal, yaitu (1) sebagaibasis material bagi perjalanan, (2) sebagai substruktur riwayat, dan (3) sebagai pokokpembicaraan dalam riwayat itu sendiri. Buku Domestic Manners of the Americans (1832)merupakan model bagi cara infrastruktur transportasi menentukan aspek naratologis,yaitu urutan dan perspektif dalam struktur naratif riwayat perjalanan. Karya tersebut jugamenyajikan transportasi sebagai pokok pembicaraan dalam teksnya itu sendiri walaupun tidaksejauh sebagaimana yang tampak pada The Amateur Emigrant (1895) karya Robert LouisStevenson. Dalam hal ini, The American Scene (1907) karya Henry James juga relevankarena, walaupun tidak secara gamblang membicarakan transportasi sebagai topik dantidak pula menampakkan ciri-ciri riwayat perjalanan, karya tersebut merepresentasicara wawasan Britania-Amerika trans-Atlantik dianggap sebagai sesuatu yang lumrah.Wawasan ini juga memandang menganggap perjalanan trans-Atlantik sebagai semacamperjalanan menembus waktu, yang menunjukkan ketidaknyaman para penulis Britaniaabad kesembilanbelas terhadap transformasi sosial ke masyrakat demokratis yangdirepresentasi secara metaforis oleh pemahaman mereka tentang Amerika.Kata kunci: catatan perjalanan Viktorian, transportasi, wisataABSTRACTNarratives presented by Victorian British writers about their travels to America assume theavailability of a transprtation infrastructure system. Such a system is related to the travelnarrative in three things, namely, (1) as a material base for travel, (2) as a narrative substructurehistory, and (3) as the subject-matter of the narratives. Fanny Trollope’s Domestic Mannerof the Americans (1832) is a model for the way transportation infrastructure determinesnarratological aspects, namely order and perspective in the structure of the travel narrative.The piece also presents transportation as a subject-matter in its text although it does notgo so far as do Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Amateur Emigrant (1895). In discussingtransportation Henry James’ The American Scene is also relevant because, despite it’s notexplicitly speaking of transportation as a topic nor does it show the convential characteristicsof the travel narrative, the work represents a British-American trans-Atlantic world viewas a given. This world view also considers trans-Atlantic travels as a kind of voyage acrosstime, implying the discomfort of nineteenth-century British writers concerning the socialtransition into a democratic society represented by America as a metaphor.Keywords: Victorian travel narrative, transportation, tourism

ABSTRAKRiwayat yang disajikan penulis Britania era Viktorian tentang perjalannnya ke Amerikamengasumsikan adanya sebuah jaringan prasarana transportasi. Sistem transportasiterkait dengan riwayat perjalanan (travel narrative) dalam tiga hal, yaitu (1) sebagaibasis material bagi perjalanan, (2) sebagai substruktur riwayat, dan (3) sebagai pokokpembicaraan dalam riwayat itu sendiri. Buku Domestic Manners of the Americans (1832)merupakan model bagi cara infrastruktur transportasi menentukan aspek naratologis,yaitu urutan dan perspektif dalam struktur naratif riwayat perjalanan. Karya tersebut jugamenyajikan transportasi sebagai pokok pembicaraan dalam teksnya itu sendiri walaupun tidaksejauh sebagaimana yang tampak pada The Amateur Emigrant (1895) karya Robert LouisStevenson. Dalam hal ini, The American Scene (1907) karya Henry James juga relevankarena, walaupun tidak secara gamblang membicarakan transportasi sebagai topik dantidak pula menampakkan ciri-ciri riwayat perjalanan, karya tersebut merepresentasicara wawasan Britania-Amerika trans-Atlantik dianggap sebagai sesuatu yang lumrah.Wawasan ini juga memandang menganggap perjalanan trans-Atlantik sebagai semacamperjalanan menembus waktu, yang menunjukkan ketidaknyaman para penulis Britaniaabad kesembilanbelas terhadap transformasi sosial ke masyrakat demokratis yangdirepresentasi secara metaforis oleh pemahaman mereka tentang Amerika.Kata kunci: catatan perjalanan Viktorian, transportasi, wisataABSTRACTNarratives presented by Victorian British writers about their travels to America assume theavailability of a transprtation infrastructure system. Such a system is related to the travelnarrative in three things, namely, (1) as a material base for travel, (2) as a narrative substructurehistory, and (3) as the subject-matter of the narratives. Fanny Trollope’s Domestic Mannerof the Americans (1832) is a model for the way transportation infrastructure determinesnarratological aspects, namely order and perspective in the structure of the travel narrative.The piece also presents transportation as a subject-matter in its text although it does notgo so far as do Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Amateur Emigrant (1895). In discussingtransportation Henry James’ The American Scene is also relevant because, despite it’s notexplicitly speaking of transportation as a topic nor does it show the convential characteristicsof the travel narrative, the work represents a British-American trans-Atlantic world viewas a given. This world view also considers trans-Atlantic travels as a kind of voyage acrosstime, implying the discomfort of nineteenth-century British writers concerning the socialtransition into a democratic society represented by America as a metaphor.Keywords: Victorian travel narrative, transportation, tourism

Objective: This study aimed to understand the factors that may influence how and why people with intellectual disability may engage in gambling.Method: Nineteen people with intellectual disability were recruited from a disability advocacy organization and participated in face to face, semi-structured qualitative interviews. Open ended questions were used to explore participants' gambling participation, recall of, and attitudes toward, different gambling products, understanding of gambling harm, and awareness of responsible gambling messages.Results: All participants could remember gambling in their lifetime and some participants had recently engaged in gambling. Many participants were aware of different gambling products, and a few participants could describe in detail the technical aspects of electronic gambling machines. Most participants did not specifically recall seeing gambling harm minimization messages, however some described engaging in individual responsibility measures, such as limits and control, as they perceived this reduced the risks of experiencing harm.Conclusions: People with intellectual disability are engaging with gambling products in a similar way to the general community. Therefore, it is important to understand the different pathways that may lead people with intellectual disability to initiate and continue gambling and to ensure that they are aware of and protected from the potential risk.Implications for Public Health: Policy makers and practitioners should seek to understand and implement a range of strategies to reduce and prevent the harms associated with particular gambling products and environments for this population sub-group.

When issues emerge in women’s imprisonment, criminology often responds with narratives of ‘difference’. In this article we respond to the call of Barbara Hudson, and generate a ‘criminology of diversity’ instead. We present the case of Vietnamese women in Victoria, Australia, whose incarceration is increasing at an alarming rate. According to government discourse, this increase occurs because Vietnamese women in Victoria have a distinct ‘problem gambling’ pathway to crime that is supported by Vietnamese lending arrangements. Seeking to disaggregate and denature this essentialist and reductionist narrative, we draw on the accounts of specialist Vietnamese community workers to explore the various meanings and significance of gambling in the lives of Vietnamese women in Victoria. We further engage with the work of Paul Gilroy on diasporic identities and Ghassan Hage on vacillations to illustrate what is gained by recognizing the overlaps, parallels and points of divergence that form within and between ‘different’ groups.

Abstract Background Bingo is often understood as a low-harm form of gambling. This view has been challenged by a growing body of literature identifying gambling harm to bingo players in a range of countries. In this study, we aimed to identify which conditions enabled, facilitated, intensified or mitigated gambling harm for bingo players in three populations in Victoria in the context of corporate, technological and regulatory changes. Methods Our qualitative study investigated experiences of bingo-related gambling harm in three populations in Victoria, Australia where bingo was popular and structural disadvantage common: Indigenous people in the east, Pacific people in the state’s north and older people on low or fixed incomes in the capital. Data was generated through interviews with 53 bingo players and 13 stakeholders as well as 12 participant observations of bingo sessions. Results We found that while bingo is overwhelmingly positive for many players, a minority of bingo players and their families experience notable harm. Harm was generated through traditional paper-based bingo games, new technologies such as tablet-based bingo and by the widespread tactic of placing bingo sessions in close proximity to harmful electronic gambling machines. Overall, the risk of harm to bingo players appears to be escalating due to commercial, technological and regulatory changes. Conclusions These changes can be better managed by regulators: reforms are needed to safeguard bingo’s distinct character as a lower-risk form of gambling at a time when it, and its players, are under threat. Significantly, we found that harm to bingo players is intensified by factors external to gambling such as racialised poverty and adverse life events. Strategies that recognise these factors and grapple with gambling harm to bingo players are needed.

This paper takes up the challenge to consider whether it is possible reasonably to overcome a number of sobering methodological deficiencies in published prevalence-rate estimates of ‘problem gambling’. The prompt to do so was the 2006 claim by the Victorian Government to have halved ‘problem gambling’ in the State. The paper shows the claim to be unscientific. It reinforces this view by demonstrating, using evidence and argument from the Productivity Commission, the Australian Bureau of Statistics and statistical/epidemiological sources, that extant sample survey techniques used to estimate prevalence rates are seriously flawed.

Abstract Background Gambling has traditionally been conceptualised as an issue of addiction and personal responsibility. While there are now clear public health models that recognise that gambling harm is caused by a range of socio-cultural, environmental, commercial and political determinants, government and industry messages about gambling are still largely personal responsibility focused. Given the well-recognised issues associated with personal responsibility paradigms, this study sought to understand how gamblers themselves conceptualised responsibility for gambling harm. Methods A qualitatively led online panel survey was conducted with 363 adult gamblers in New South Wales and Victoria, Australia. Participants were asked to respond to what they thought were the causes of gambling harm, and what could be done to prevent harm. A reflexive thematic analysis was conducted. Results Six common tropes were constructed from gamblers’ responses: (1) Gambling in moderation; (2) Personal responsibility for rational behaviour; (3) Character flaws; (4) Personal responsibility to seek help; (5) More education is needed; and (6) Governments are responsible for action – but motivation and efficacy are questioned. Gamblers primarily understood gambling harm as being a matter of personal responsibility, and government responsibility was generally seen as limited to providing information to facilitate informed gambling choices. Conclusions This study demonstrates that gamblers’ perceptions of gambling harm are similar to the personal responsibility framings and tropes present in industry and government messaging strategies. Refocusing public communication strategies away from ‘responsible gambling’ messaging, and towards evidence-based approaches, will be an important part of addressing the harms associated with gambling.

Although there continues to be interest in documenting the evidence base for problem gambling interventions, little has been published on service users' perspectives on services provided to them. To gain a greater understanding of this issue, group interviews were held with present and past users of two services in Victoria, Australia-the government-funded state-wide Gambler's Help program and the privately funded self-help Free Yourself Program. Service users articulated a range of views about factors leading to the propensity to gamble, causes of problem gambling, the action that they would take to protect problem gamblers, the effectiveness of self-exclusion from venues, the features of a good problem gambling counselling service, unhelpful service characteristics, and the issue of abstinence or control as desired endpoints of intervention.

While there is evidence for self-exclusion (SE) as an individual-level harm reduction intervention, its effects on reducing harm from gambling at the population level remain unclear. Based on a review of national legal frameworks and SE programs, including their utilization and enforcement in selected high-income societies, the present analysis aims to explore the reach and strengths of SE in the protection of gamblers in these jurisdictions. It places particular emphasis on SE programs' potential to prevent and minimize gambling harm at the population level. The overview examined SE in Finland, Germany, Italy, Massachusetts (USA), Norway, Sweden, and Victoria (Australia). These jurisdictions differ considerably in how gambling is regulated as well as in how SE is implemented and enforced. The reach and extent of enforcement of SE apparently vary with the polity's general policy balance between reducing gambling problems and increasing gambling revenue. But in any case, though SE may benefit individual gamblers and those around them, it does not appear to be capable of significantly reducing gambling harm at the population level. To render SE programs an effective measure that prevents gamblers and those linked to them from financial, social, and psychological harm, utilization needs to be substantially increased by reforming legal regulations and exclusion conditions.

This paper provides an overview of some trends among problem gamblers seeking help through the BreakEven/Gambler's Help problem gambling counselling services in Victoria, Australia, between July 1995 and June 2000. Data presented are drawn from details collected on clients at registration, assessment, and all other client contacts to form a Problem Gambling Services minimum data set (MDS). Analysis of the MDS shows a number of noteworthy trends towards continuity or change. A major element of continuity is the ability of the service to attract women, who constitute around 50% of the clients for the period. Major changes include the increasing trend towards presentation of clients at an earlier stage in their "career" as problem gamblers. Also identified is persistence or change in client characteristics, such as gender differences in gambling activity and problem type and level. In addition, a range of other factors are explored, such as level of debt and its associated characteristics, the characteristics of people committing crimes to finance their gambling, and the differences between people presenting for counselling and problem gamblers in the community.

Abstract Background Gambling is an inherently risky activity. New technologies have led to the development of new, online forms of gambling such as sports betting, with round the clock availability and accessibility. While young men have been identified as a group that may be particularly vulnerable to the harms associated with these new online products, few studies have qualitatively explored young men’s perceptions of the risks associated with these products. Using concepts associated with the sociology of risk, this paper sought to explore the range of factors that may influence how 18–24 year old young Australian men conceptualise the risks associated with sports betting. Methods Using a critical qualitative inquiry approach, in-depth interviews were conducted with sixteen participants in Victoria, Australia, who engaged in sports betting at least monthly. The data interpreted for this study included questions relating to awareness of gambling, the contexts associated with early gambling experiences; the factors that influenced current gambling behaviours, and why they engaged in gambling. A reflexive approach to thematic analysis was used to interpreted themes from the data. Results Four key themes were constructed from the data relating to the factors that influenced risk perceptions. These included: 1) ‘The role of early experiences’, including exposure to gambling advertising in sport, and the gambling behaviours of social networks; 2) ‘The influence of peer rivalry and competition’, in which sports betting was used to form connections within and across peer groups; 3) ‘The normalisation of gambling’, including the embedding of gambling in everyday activities; and 4) ‘The influence of perceptions of knowledge, skill, and control’, including the belief that they could engage in responsible behaviours and stop gambling if they needed to. Conclusion This study indicated that a range of factors may influence how young men conceptualise the risks and benefits associated with sports betting. Current public health strategies for gambling that focus on individual determinants and responsibility paradigms must be broadened to target the social and commercial factors that influence young men’s attitudes towards, and engagement in sports betting.

AbstractYouth gambling is associated with a range of harms. This study aimed to examine, among Australian adolescents, the prevalence of gambling (ever, in the last month, at-risk and problem), the most frequent gambling types and modalities, and to explore the student characteristics associated with gambling in the last month and with at-risk or problem gambling. Students aged 12–17 years from Victoria and Queensland answered gambling questions as part of the Australian Secondary School Alcohol and Drug (ASSAD) Survey in 2017. The ASSAD also included a series of questions about smoking, alcohol and other drug use, and mental health. A total of 6377 students from 93 schools were included in analysis. The prevalence of ever gambling and gambling in the last month was 31% and 6% respectively. Of students who had gambled in the last month, 34% were classified as at-risk and 15% were classified as problem gamblers. The most frequent types of gambling in the last month were horse or dog race and sports betting. Students who gambled in the last month did so most frequently via a parent or guardian purchasing or playing for them, at home or at a friends’ house, and online or using an app. Regression analysis indicated that male gender, having money available to spend on self, alcohol consumption in the last seven days, the number of types of advertisements seen in the last month, and the number of peer or family members who gambled in the last month, were significantly associated with the likelihood of students gambling in the last month. Male gender, some age categories, and exposure to more types of gambling advertising were also significant predictors of being classified as an at-risk or problem gambler. This large study of youth gambling provides data on gambling behaviours and related variables from a large sample of Australian secondary school students. Student characteristics, including male gender and exposure to more types of gambling advertising, were associated with an increased likelihood of gambling in the last month and of being classified as an at-risk or problem gambler. Further implications of the study findings are discussed.

Despite Australia being a multicultural country, there is limited evidence regarding ethnic perspectives about gambling, problem gambling, and associated help seeking. The aim of this paper is to examine the role and nature of stigma in relation to gambling, in particular its association with the concept of saving face. Interview data were thematically analysed from a study investigating the attitudes and experiences of gambling among ethnic minority communities (Tamil and Chinese) in Melbourne, Victoria. By using two well-established frameworks for understanding stigma, we examine the extent to which gambling is stigmatized within these two communities. The desire to save face (a form of stigma management) significantly influences what is said about gambling and the reluctance of individuals to seek help should it become problematic. Thresholds for stigmatized behaviour appear to differ between the communities studied, as well as from what is known about the Anglo-Celtic majority. Understanding this heterogeneity may be important for informing more effective, tailored interventions.Bien que l’Australie soit un pays multiculturel, il existe peu de données probantes sur les perspectives ethniques du jeu, le jeu problématique et la demande d’aide connexe. L’objectif du présent article est d’examiner le rôle et la nature du stigmate associé au jeu, en particulier son lien avec le concept de sauver la face. Les données d’entrevues réalisées dans le cadre d’une étude sur les attitudes et les expériences de jeu de membres de communautés ethniques minoritaires (tamiles et chinoises) à Melbourne, en Australie, ont été analysées par thème. À l’aide de deux cadres de travail reconnus pour la compréhension du stigmate, nous avons examiné la mesure dans laquelle le jeu est stigmatisé dans ces deux communautés. Le désir de sauver la face (qui est une forme de gestion du stigmate) a une grande incidence sur ce qui est dit sur le jeu et sur la réticence à demander de l’aide lorsque le jeu devient problématique. Le seuil de stigmatisation du comportement semble être différent dans les deux communautés étudiées, ainsi que de ce que l’on sait du stigmate dans la communauté majoritaire anglo-celte. Comprendre cette hétérogénéité pourrait aider à élaborer des interventions personnalisées plus efficaces.

Despite Australia being a multicultural country, there is limited evidence regarding ethnic perspectives about gambling, problem gambling, and associated help seeking. The aim of this paper is to examine the role and nature of stigma in relation to gambling, in particular its association with the concept of saving face. Interview data were thematically analysed from a study investigating the attitudes and experiences of gambling among ethnic minority communities (Tamil and Chinese) in Melbourne, Victoria. By using two well-established frameworks for understanding stigma, we examine the extent to which gambling is stigmatized within these two communities. The desire to save face (a form of stigma management) significantly influences what is said about gambling and the reluctance of individuals to seek help should it become problematic. Thresholds for stigmatized behaviour appear to differ between the communities studied, as well as from what is known about the Anglo-Celtic majority. Understanding this heterogeneity may be important for informing more effective, tailored interventions.Bien que l’Australie soit un pays multiculturel, il existe peu de données probantes sur les perspectives ethniques du jeu, le jeu problématique et la demande d’aide connexe. L’objectif du présent article est d’examiner le rôle et la nature du stigmate associé au jeu, en particulier son lien avec le concept de sauver la face. Les données d’entrevues réalisées dans le cadre d’une étude sur les attitudes et les expériences de jeu de membres de communautés ethniques minoritaires (tamiles et chinoises) à Melbourne, en Australie, ont été analysées par thème. À l’aide de deux cadres de travail reconnus pour la compréhension du stigmate, nous avons examiné la mesure dans laquelle le jeu est stigmatisé dans ces deux communautés. Le désir de sauver la face (qui est une forme de gestion du stigmate) a une grande incidence sur ce qui est dit sur le jeu et sur la réticence à demander de l’aide lorsque le jeu devient problématique. Le seuil de stigmatisation du comportement semble être différent dans les deux communautés étudiées, ainsi que de ce que l’on sait du stigmate dans la communauté majoritaire anglo-celte. Comprendre cette hétérogénéité pourrait aider à élaborer des interventions personnalisées plus efficaces.

In this paper we explore the rise of anti-gambling apps in the context of the massive expansion of gambling in new spheres of life (online and offline) and an acceleration in strategies of anticipatory and individualised management of harm caused by gambling. These apps, and the techniques and forms of labour they demand, are examples of and a mechanism through which a mode of governance premised on ‘self-care’ and ‘self-control’ is articulated and put into practice. To support this argument, we explore two government initiatives in the Australian context. Quit Pokies, a mobile app project between the Moreland City Council, North East Primary Care Partnership and the Victorian Local Governance Association, is an example of an emerging service paradigm of ‘self-care’ that uses online and mobile platforms with geo-location to deliver real time health and support interventions. A similar mobile app, Gambling Terminator, was launched by the NSW government in late 2012. Both apps work on the premise that interrupting a gaming session through a trigger, described by Quit Pokies’ creator as a “tap on the shoulder” provides gamblers the opportunity to take a reflexive stance and cut short their gambling practice in the course of play. We critically examine these apps as self-disciplining techniques of contemporary neo-liberalism directed towards anticipating and reducing the personal harm and social risk associated with gambling. We analyse the material and discursive elements, and new forms of user labour, through which this consumable media is framed and assembled. We argue that understanding the role of these apps, and mobile media more generally, in generating new techniques and technologies of the self, is important for identifying emerging modes of governance and their implications at a time when gambling is going through an immense period of cultural normalisation in online and offline environments. The Australian context is particularly germane for the way gambling permeates everyday spaces of sociality and leisure, and the potential of gambling interventions to interrupt and re-configure these spaces and institute a new kind of subject-state relation. Gambling in Australia Though a global phenomenon, the growth and expansion of gambling manifests distinctly in Australia because of its long cultural and historical attachment to games of chance. Australians are among the biggest betters and losers in the world (Ziolkowski), mainly on Electronic Gaming Machines (EGM) or pokies. As of 2013, according to The World Count of Gaming Machine (Ziolkowski), there were 198,150 EGMs in the country, of which 197,274 were slot machines, with the rest being electronic table games of roulette, blackjack and poker. There are 118 persons per machine in Australia. New South Wales is the jurisdiction with most EGMs (95,799), followed by Queensland (46,680) and Victoria (28,758) (Ziolkowski). Gambling is significant in Australian cultural history and average Australian households spend at least some money on different forms of gambling, from pokies to scratch cards, every year (Worthington et al.). In 1985, long-time gambling researcher Geoffrey Caldwell stated thatAustralians seem to take a pride in the belief that we are a nation of gamblers. Thus we do not appear to be ashamed of our gambling instincts, habits and practices. Gambling is regarded by most Australians as a normal, everyday practice in contrast to the view that gambling is a sinful activity which weakens the moral fibre of the individual and the community. (Caldwell 18) The omnipresence of gambling opportunities in most Australian states has been further facilitated by the availability of online and mobile gambling and gambling-like spaces. Social casino apps, for instance, are widely popular in Australia. The slots social casino app Slotomania was the most downloaded product in the iTunes store in 2012 (Metherell). In response to the high rate of different forms of gambling in Australia, a range of disparate interest groups have identified the expansion of gambling as a concerning trend. Health researchers have pointed out that online gamblers have a higher risk of experiencing problems with gambling (at 30%) compared to 15% in offline bettors (Hastings). The incidence of gambling problems is also disproportionately high in specific vulnerable demographics, including university students (Cervini), young adults prone to substance abuse problems (Hayatbakhsh et al.), migrants (Tanasornnarong et al.; Scull & Woolcock; Ohtsuka & Ohtsuka), pensioners (Hing & Breen), female players (Lee), Aboriginal communities (Young et al.; McMillen & Donnelly) and individuals experiencing homelessness (Holsworth et al.). While there is general recognition of the personal and public health impacts of gambling in Australia, there is a contradiction in the approach to gambling at a governance level. On one hand, its expansion is promoted and even encouraged by the federal and state governments, as gambling is an enormous source of revenue, as evidenced, for example, by the construction of the new Crown casino in Barangaroo in Sydney (Markham & Young). Campaigns trying to limit the use of poker machines, which are associated with concerns over problem gambling and addiction, are deemed by the gambling lobby as un-Australian. Paradoxically, efforts to restrict gambling or control gambling winnings have also been described as un-Australian, such as in the Australian Taxation Office’s campaign against MONA’s founder, David Walsh, whose immense art collection was acquired with the funds from a gambling scheme (Global Mail). On the other hand, people experiencing problems with gambling are often categorised as addicts and the ultimate blame (and responsibility) is attributed to the individual. In Australia, attitudes towards people who are arguably addicted to gambling are different than those towards individuals afflicted by alcohol or drug abuse (Jean). While “Australians tend to be sympathetic towards people with alcohol and other drug addictions who seek help,” unless it is seen as one of the more socially acceptable forms of occasional, controlled gambling (such as sports betting, gambling on the Melbourne Cup or celebrating ANZAC Day with Two-Up), gambling is framed as an individual “problem” and “moral failing” (Jean). The expansion of gambling is the backdrop to another development in health care and public health discourse, which have for some time now been devoted to the ideal of what Lupton has called the “digitally engaged patient” (Lupton). Technologies are central to the delivery of this model of health service provision that puts the patient at the centre of, and responsible for, their own health and medical care. Lupton has pointed out how this discourse, while appearing new, is in fact the latest version of the 1970s emphasis on the ‘patient as consumer’, an idea given an extra injection by the massive development and availability of digital and interactive web-based and mobile platforms, many of these directed towards the provision of health and health-related information and services. What this means for patients is that, rather than relying solely on professional medical expertise and care, the patient is encouraged to take on some of this medical/health work to conduct practices of ‘self-care’ (Lupton). The Discourse of ‘Self-Management’ and ‘Self-Care’ The model of ‘self-care’ and ‘self-management’ by ‘empowering’ digital technology has now become a dominant discourse within health and medicine, and is increasingly deployed across a range of related sectors such as welfare services. In recent research conducted on homelessness and mobile media, for example, government department staff involved in the reform of welfare services referred to ‘self-management’ as the new service paradigm that underpins their digital reform strategy. Echoing ideas and language similar to the “digitally engaged patient”, customers of Centrelink, Medicare and other ‘human services’ are being encouraged (through planned strategic initiatives aimed at shifting targeted customer groups online) to transact with government services digitally and manage their own personal profiles and health information. One departmental staff member described this in terms of an “opportunity cost”, the savings in time otherwise spent standing in long queues in service centres (Humphry). Rather than view these examples as isolated incidents taking place within or across sectors or disciplines, these are better understood as features of an emerging ‘discursive formation’ , a term Foucault used to describe the way in which particular institutions and/or the state establish a regime of truth, or an accepted social reality and which gives definition to a new historical episteme and subject: in this case that of the self-disciplined and “digitally engaged medical/health patient”. As Foucault explained, once this subject has become fully integrated into and across the social field, it is no longer easy to excavate, since it lies below the surface of articulation and is held together through everyday actions, habits and institutional routines and techniques that appear to be universal, necessary and/normal. The way in which this citizen subject becomes a universal model and norm, however, is not a straightforward or linear story and since we are in the midst of its rise, is not a story with a foretold conclusion. Nevertheless, across a range of different fields of governance: medicine; health and welfare, we can see signs of this emerging figure of the self-caring “digitally engaged patient” constituted from a range of different techniques and practices of self-governance. In Australia, this figure is at the centre of a concerted strategy of service digitisation involving a number of cross sector initiatives such as Australia’s National EHealth Strategy (2008), the National Digital Economy Strategy (2011) and the Australian Public Service Mobile Roadmap (2013). This figure of the self-caring “digitally engaged” patient, aligns well and is entirely compatible with neo-liberal formulations of the individual and the reduced role of the state as a provider of welfare and care. Berry refers to Foucault’s definition of neoliberalism as outlined in his lectures to the College de France as a “particular form of post-welfare state politics in which the state essentially outsources the responsibility of the ‘well-being' of the population” (65). In the case of gambling, the neoliberal defined state enables the wedding of two seemingly contradictory stances: promoting gambling as a major source of revenue and capitalisation on the one hand, and identifying and treating gambling addiction as an individual pursuit and potential risk on the other. Risk avoidance strategies are focused on particular groups of people who are targeted for self-treatment to avoid the harm of gambling addiction, which is similarly framed as individual rather than socially and systematically produced. What unites and makes possible this alignment of neoliberalism and the new “digitally engaged subject/patient” is first and foremost, the construction of a subject in a chronic state of ill health. This figure is positioned as terminal from the start. They are ‘sick’, a ‘patient’, an ‘addict’: in need of immediate and continuous treatment. Secondly, this neoliberal patient/addict is enabled (we could even go so far as to say ‘empowered’) by digital technology, especially smartphones and the apps available through these devices in the form of a myriad of applications for intervening and treating ones afflictions. These apps range fromself-tracking programs such as mood regulators through to social media interventions. Anti-Pokie Apps and the Neoliberal Gambler We now turn to two examples which illustrate this alignment between neoliberalism and the new “digitally engaged subject/patient” in relation to gambling. Anti-gambling apps function to both replace or ‘take the place’ of institutions and individuals actively involved in the treatment of problem gambling and re-engineer this service through the logics of ‘self-care’ and ‘self-management’. Here, we depart somewhat from Foucault’s model of disciplinary power summed up in the institution (with the prison exemplifying this disciplinary logic) and move towards Deleuze’s understanding of power as exerted by the State not through enclosures but through diffuse and rhizomatic information flows and technologies (Deleuze). At the same time, we retain Foucault’s attention to the role and agency of the user in this power-dynamic, identifiable in the technics of self-regulation and in his ideas on governmentality. We now turn to analyse these apps more closely, and explore the way in which these articulate and perform these disciplinary logics. The app Quit Pokies was a joint venture of the North East Primary Care Partnership, the Victorian Local Governance Association and the Moreland City Council, launched in early 2014. The idea of the rational, self-reflexive and agentic user is evident in the description of the app by app developer Susan Rennie who described it this way: What they need is for someone to tap them on the shoulder and tell them to get out of there… I thought the phone could be that tap on the shoulder. The “tap on the shoulder” feature uses geolocation and works by emitting a sound alert when the user enters a gaming venue. It also provides information about each user’s losses at that venue. This “tap on the shoulder” is both an alert and a reprimand from past gambling sessions. Through the Responsible Gambling Fund, the NSW government also launched an anti-pokie app in 2013, Gambling Terminator, including a similar feature. The app runs on Apple and Android smartphone platforms, and when a person is inside a gambling venue in New South Wales it: sends reminder messages that interrupt gaming-machine play and gives you a chance to re-think your choices. It also provides instant access to live phone and online counselling services which operate 24 hours a day, seven days a week. (Google Play Store) Yet an approach that tries to prevent harm by anticipating the harm that will come from gambling at the point of entering a venue, also eliminates the chance of potential negotiations and encounters a user might have during a visit to the pub and how this experience will unfold. It reduces the “tap on the shoulder”, which may involve a far wider set of interactions and affects, to a software operation and it frames the pub or the club (which under some conditions functions as hubs for socialization and community building) as dangerous places that should be avoided. This has the potential to lead to further stigmatisation of gamblers, their isolation and their exclusion from everyday spaces. Moreland Mayor, Councillor Tapinos captures the implicit framing of self-care as a private act in his explanation of the app as a method for problem gamblers to avoid being stigmatised by, for example, publicly attending group meetings. Yet, curiously, the app has the potential to create a new kind of public stigmatisation through potentially drawing other peoples’ attention to users’ gambling play (as the alarm is triggered) generating embarrassment and humiliation at being “caught out” in an act framed as aberrant and literally, “alarming”. Both Quit Pokies and Gambling Terminator require their users to perform ‘acts’ of physical and affective labour aimed at behaviour change and developing the skills of self-control. After downloading Quit Pokies on the iPhone and launching the app, the user is presented an initial request: “Before you set up this app. please write a list of the pokies venues that you regularly use because the app will ask you to identify these venues so it can send you alerts if you spend time in these locations. It will also use your set up location to identify other venues you might use so we recommend that you set up the App in the location where you spend most time. Congratulation on choosing Quit Pokies.”Self-performed processes include installation, setting up, updating the app software, programming in gambling venues to be detected by the smartphone’s inbuilt GPS, monitoring and responding to the program’s alerts and engaging in alternate “legitimate” forms of leisure such as going to the movies or the library, having coffee with a friend or browsing Facebook. These self-performed labours can be understood as ‘technologies of the self’, a term used by Foucault to describe the way in which social members are obliged to regulate and police their ‘selves’ through a range of different techniques. While Foucault traces the origins of ‘technologies of the self’ to the Greco-Roman texts with their emphasis on “care of oneself” as one of the duties of citizenry, he notes the shift to “self-knowledge” under Christianity around the 8th century, where it became bound up in ideals of self-renunciation and truth. Quit Pokies and Gambling Terminator may signal a recuperation of the ideal of self-care, over confession and disclosure. These apps institute a set of bodily activities and obligations directed to the user’s health and wellbeing, aided through activities of self-examination such as charting your recovery through a Recovery Diary and implementing a number of suggested “Strategies for Change” such as “writing a list” and “learning about ways to manage your money better”. Writing is central to the acts of self-examination. As Jeremy Prangnell, gambling counsellor from Mission Australia for Wollongong and Shellharbour regions explained the app is “like an electronic diary, which is a really common tool for people who are trying to change their behaviour” (Thompson). The labours required by users are also implicated in the functionality and performance of the platform itself suggesting the way in which ‘technologies of the self’ simultaneously function as a form of platform work: user labour that supports and sustains the operation of digital systems and is central to the performance and continuation of digital capitalism in general (Humphry, Demanding Media). In addition to the acts of labour performed on the self and platform, bodies are themselves potentially mobilised (and put into new circuits of consumption and production), as a result of triggers to nudge users away from gambling venues, towards a range of other cultural practices in alternative social spaces considered to be more legitimate.Conclusion Whether or not these technological interventions are effective or successful is yet to be tested. Indeed, the lack of recent activity in the community forums and preponderance of issues reported on installation and use suggests otherwise, pointing to a need for more empirical research into these developments. Regardless, what we’ve tried to identify is the way in which apps such as these embody a new kind of subject-state relation that emphasises self-control of gambling harm and hastens the divestment of institutional and social responsibility at a time when gambling is going through an immense period of expansion in many respects backed by and sanctioned by the state. Patterns of smartphone take up in the mainstream population and the rise of the so called ‘mobile only population’ (ACMA) provide support for this new subject and service paradigm and are often cited as the rationale for digital service reform (APSMR). Media convergence feeds into these dynamics: service delivery becomes the new frontier for the merging of previously separate media distribution systems (Dwyer). Letters, customer service centres, face-to-face meetings and web sites, are combined and in some instances replaced, with online and mobile media platforms, accessible from multiple and mobile devices. These changes are not, however, simply the migration of services to a digital medium with little effective change to the service itself. Health and medical services are re-invented through their technological re-assemblage, bringing into play new meanings, practices and negotiations among the state, industry and neoliberal subjects (in the case of problem gambling apps, a new subjectivity, the ‘neoliberal addict’). These new assemblages are as much about bringing forth a new kind of subject and mode of governance, as they are a solution to problem gambling. This figure of the self-treating “gambler addict” can be seen to be a template for, and prototype of, a more generalised and universalised self-governing citizen: one that no longer needs or makes demands on the state but who can help themselves and manage their own harm. Paradoxically, there is the potential for new risks and harms to the very same users that accompanies this shift: their outright exclusion as a result of deprivation from basic and assumed digital access and literacy, the further stigmatisation of gamblers, the elimination of opportunities for proximal support and their exclusion from everyday spaces. References Albarrán-Torres, César. “Gambling-Machines and the Automation of Desire.” Platform: Journal of Media and Communication 5.1 (2013). Australian Communications and Media Authority. “Australians Cut the Cord.” Research Snapshots. Sydney: ACMA (2013) Berry, David. Critical Theory and the Digital. Broadway, New York: Bloomsbury Academic, 2014 Berry, David. 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Drawing on narrative analysis, this paper analyses the 2013 Fifth Regulatory Review of the license of an Australian casino as a case study focused on the framing and articulation of ‘responsible gambling’ (RG) in the Review. Part 1 sets out the policy and regulatory context for the licensing review of Melbourne’s Crown Casino. Part 2 overviews the structure/content of the Review; the key messages of the Reviewers’ narrative and its main recommendations. In reflecting on the Review in Part 3, analysis focuses on the investigation and recommendations regarding Responsible Gambling, which has gained recent policy priority. The analysis interrogates the Review’s findings, narratives, processes and evidentiary base in relation to how it presents and assesses casino performance on RG. In doing so, it focuses on the Victorian Commission for Gambling and Liquor Regulation’s Review’s framing of RG; sources of evidence drawn on by the Review; an assessment of the casino’s loyalty club feature ‘Play Safe’, as an RG measure; the Review’s assessment of casino performance on RG and its Code of Conduct in particular; and the Review’s framing of RG recommendations. It concludes with reflections on governance issues raised by the Review, the need for more focus on the neglected area of regulatory licensing and enforcement (OECD, 2011; 2012; OECD & European Commission, 2009) and the need for independent regulatory reviews that address conflicts of interest on the part of both Government and the Regulator.

Sticky, messy and nauseatingly saccharine, the sensory properties of jam may be a long way from the stylized corporate polish of Australia’s multi-billion dollar film exhibition industry, yet the history of Australian cinema space will be forever indebted to the Victoria Preserving Company; one-time producer of the humblest of sweet treats. Through an analysis of Melbourne’s Jam Factory cinema complex, this article explores the unusual intersection of jam, sensory gratification and contemporary Australian cinema-going at the dawn of the 21st century. Encompassing the historic architecture of the former Victoria Preserving Company, South Yarra’s Jam Factory complex provides a gentrified gloss to an inner suburban precinct historically renowned for the manufacturing of jam and preserves. Nestled in the heart of Chapel Street, less than two blocks down from Toorak road and a stone’s throw from the nightclub precinct of Commercial road, the Jam Factory occupies an important part of Melbourne’s cultural heritage; functioning as a quintessential signifier of the city’s traversal from wholesale manufacturing during the early 1900s into the service vectors of digital media technologies and mixed-use retail entertainment destinations at the start of the new millennium. Established in 1876, the Victoria Preserving Company, AKA the ‘Jam Factory’, hosts an array of diverse retail and leisure outlets. Included amongst its tenants are Borders Books, Villa & Hut, TGI Fridays, The Pancake Parlour, a Virgin Music Mega-store, an elaborate Village Cinema megaplex, and a range of ancillary restaurants, fashion stores and cafes. According to the venue’s promotional material, “The Jam Factory of today is, in short, ‘jam packed’ with entertainment” (Chapel St Precinct, n.pag.). With the original building’s façade and cooling store still intact, the architectural remnants of the Victoria Preserving Factory provide a culturally significant backdrop for what is ostensibly Australia’s most noteworthy cinema venture; Village Roadshow’s megaplex cinema flagship. Replete with fifteen large format screens, including two Gold Class cinemas, a Cinema Europa enclave and an interactive games alcove, The Village Jam Factory signifies Australia’s first foray into cinema-based retail entertainment destinations. In commenting on the opening of the Jam Factory megaplex in 1998, Village Roadshow’s general manager Mr. David Herman said, “The objective was to create Australia’s first non-gambling cinema and lifestyle complex” (Catalano 6). More than any other cinema venue, the Village Jam Factory played a key role in pushing Australian film exhibition standards into the new millennium. In an era marked by competing home theatre technologies and diversified sites of media consumption, the Jam Factory’s shift from suburban cinema to lifestyle complex dramatically altered both the business and social practice of movie-going in Australia. Central to this shift was a tripartite marketing strategy which sought to capitalize on: protracted movie-going experiences; sensory stimulation; and, venue promotion. Experiential Jam The promotion of a protracted movie-going experience has been essential to the continued success of the Village Jam Factory. As I have argued elsewhere, the Australian cinema industry of the mid 1990s faced a number of significant incentives for extending the movie going experience beyond the auditorium; not the least being the steady decline of box office takings that occurred during the late 1980s (Downing). In the face of new media technologies such as the internet, DVD and Pay TV, many cinema operators were forced to look beyond the box office as a primary source of profits. To this end Village Roadshow effectively used the Jam Factory as a testing ground for the generation of ancillary leisure and retail income streams. During the mid 1990s Village actively promoted the Jam Factory as a space in which audiences could not only see a film, but also engage in a series of expanded retail activities such as shopping, dining and video-game playing. Discussing the development of multi-use cinema venues during the 1990s, Charles Acland has commented that such spaces “…do not situate conditions of spectatorship alone; they also construct relations between public and cinematic practices” (Acland 119). Sensory Jam Far from being a traditional site of film consumption, the Jam Factory set an industry precedent by becoming the nation’s first cinema venue in which audiences were encouraged to engage in an entertainment experience that was, above all, aimed at stimulating the senses. In keeping with the ‘lifestyle destination’ mantra, the Village Jam Factory provided a new generation of Australians with a multi-sensory entertainment experience that could not be emulated by home theatre technologies. Wide sweeping foyers and elaborate ticket and merchandising counters greet the eye; ‘luxury’ stadium seating with wide aisles and broad armrests offer the ‘ultimate’ in tactile comfort; digital surround sound facilities pleasure the ears and a plethora of food and beverage novelties work to gratify the senses of taste and smell. More than any other Village cinema outlet, the Jam Factory venue smacks of sugar-coated commerce. With a revenue contribution of over 18%, the Village Roadshow candy bar is the undisputed cash-cow of the enterprise (Australian Film Commission 143). Colloquially known as ‘Lollywood’, the Village confectionary counter is an over-priced explosion of colour and candy that sustains industry revenue through a deliberate appeal to the audience’s sense of taste. This sugar dependency synchronistically mirrors the former success of Henry Jones, the entrepreneur behind Australia’s IXL jam brand, who operated his famous preserving company on the site between 1895 and 1926 (Chapel St Precinct, n.pag.). Venue Jam Village Roadshow’s promotion of the Jam Factory venue over the actual films being screened is indicative of Australia’s primary shift towards retail entertainment based cinema complexes. Unlike the homogenous multiplex venues of the 1970s and 1980s, the Village Jam Factory Complex has been aggressively marketed as a Melbourne icon, capable of offering a unique entertainment experience. This agenda is clearly documented in the 1999 Village Roadshow annual report which, pointing towards a perceived threat of home theatre technologies, proclaimed: [In] broadening the cinema going experience … [Village] aims to create an environment of quality entertainment theming and ancillary lifestyle retailing, thus providing a consistently high level of incentive for people to leave their homes for cinema anchored destinations. (Village Roadshow 19) To this end, the Jam Factory became the physical embodiment of Village Cinemas’ corporate tagline “Where Movies Live” (Village Cinemas, n.pag.). Throughout the late 1990s, a number of similar sites proliferated across Europe, the United States and Canada. Two noteworthy examples of this trend are the Manchester Times building in the UK (initially managed by a short lived Village-Warner synergy) and the Sony Centre at Potsdamer Platz, Berlin; previous home to the Third Reich and later, the Berlin Wall. In both of these examples a similar venue-promotion agenda is clearly at work. In reflecting the cultural specificities of their host cities, each of these venues pays a semiotic homage to the previous occupants of their space. The Manchester Times building, for example, retains much of its former architecture and reflects the nocturnal vibrancy of 19th century printing plant. Similarly, the Sony Centre offers an architectural reflection on the complexities of Berlin history and German cinema. In Melbourne, the Jam Factory’s history of jam and jam making are equally preserved. Drawing heavily on postmodern architectural styles, the Jam Factory’s interior uses South Yarra’s local history as a backdrop for a schizophrenic collage of seemingly incommensurate time/place references. From the distinctive red-brick cooling tower (located in the centre of the building) one encounters a hybrid fusion of Mediterranean pasta courts, European coffee lounges, Romanesque artwork and columns (complete with weathered-look paint and ‘crumbling’ tops), statues of Hollywood stars, as well as a dazzling gaming alcove and a series of subdued ‘luxury’ (Gold Class) cinemas. Such eclectic displays of visual hyperbole have been prefigured by Umberto Eco, whose discussion on hyperreality addresses an imagination which “… demands the real thing, and in order to attain it, must fabricate the absolute fake” (Eco 8). As a relatively recent contributor to Australian cinema history, the Village Jam Factory has achieved little sustained academic attention, yet its significance must not be undervalued. As Australia’s first cinema-oriented retail entertainment destination, the Village Jam Factory has been crucial in placing Australia into the global film exhibition arena. While the pungent aromas of ripened fruit, vinegar and boiling sugar have long since been replaced by the scent of popcorn and recycled air, the legacy and architecture of jam-making has played a key role in propelling Australian film exhibition into the new millennium. References Acland, Charles. Screen Traffic: Movies, Multiplexes and Global Culture. Durham: Duke UP, 2003. Australian Film Commission. Get the Picture. Sydney: Australian Film Commission, 2001. Catalano, Anthony. “Village to Extend Jam Factory to 14 Cinemas.” The Age 5 Aug. 1998. Chapel St Precinct. General History of Chapel Street & Surrounds. 2006. 30 Dec. 2006 http://www.chapelstreet.com.au/default.asp?mode=history>. Downing, Leanne. “More than Meets the Eye: The Suburban Cinema Megaplex as Sensory Heterotopia.” Refractory: Journal of Media and Culture 8 (2005). http://www.refractory.unimelb.edu.au/journalissues/vol8/downing.html>. Eco, Umberto. Travels in Hyper Reality. Orlando Florida: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1986. Village Cinemas. 2006. 30 Dec. 2006. http://www.villagecinemas.com.au/>. Village Roadshow. Annual Report. Melbourne: Village Roadshow, 1999. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Downing, Leanne. "Sensory Jam: How the Victoria Preserving Company Pushed Australian Cinema Space into the New Millennium." M/C Journal 9.6 (2006). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0612/05-downing.php>. APA Style Downing, L. (Dec. 2006) "Sensory Jam: How the Victoria Preserving Company Pushed Australian Cinema Space into the New Millennium," M/C Journal, 9(6). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0612/05-downing.php>.

The biblical David vs. Goliath paradigm plays out very frequently in international trade disputes. In 2003, a tiny island state, Antigua and Barbuda (hereafter Antigua) took on the United States (hereafter U.S.) in a WTO (World Trade Organization) dispute, alleging that the U.S. violated the General Agreement on Trade in Services (hereafter GATS) obligations by effectively foreclosing its borders to overseas internet gambling services. It won at both the panel and the appellate levels. However, to this date, it has been unable to secure compliance by the U.S.This paper considers “cross retaliation" by suspending intellectual property rights under the Trade Related Intellectual Property Rights Agreement (hereafter TRIPS) as a viable remedy for developing countries such as Antigua that often find themselves at the receiving end of WTO inconsistent measures maintained by countries that are economically more powerful.Towards this end, it proposes a “Tiered IP suspension model," where certain kinds of Intellectual Property (hereafter IP) are targeted first for suspension before others, depending on the ease of objectively ascertaining the harm caused by the unauthorized use of such IP and/or the potential to induce compliance by the defaulting state. Illustratively, copyrights over sound recordings that have established rates for public performance are targeted first. If working with this tier of IP subject matter does not yield desired results, then the complaining state moves on to other IP where it is relatively more difficult to compute the loss caused to the IP owner (such as pharmaceutical patents) but which may be a more powerful tool to induce compliance. Such a model could be useful for a large number of developing countries, such as India and Brazil, that often find that, despite WTO victories, scofflaw states such as the U.S. and EU fail to comply. Towards this end, this paper offers a very concrete “development" oriented international trade law remedy.

Introduction: Bubbles and Sport The ephemeral materiality of bubbles – beautiful, spectacular, and distracting but ultimately fragile – when applied to protect or conserve in the interests of sport-media profit, creates conditions that exacerbate existing inequalities in sport and society. Bubbles are usually something to watch, admire, and chase after in their brief yet shiny lives. There is supposed to be, technically, nothing inside them other than one or more gasses, and yet we constantly refer to people and objects being inside bubbles. The metaphor of the bubble has been used to describe the life of celebrities, politicians in purpose-built capital cities like Canberra, and even leftist, environmentally activist urban dwellers. The metaphorical and material qualities of bubbles are aligned—they cannot be easily captured and are liable to change at any time. In this article we address the metaphorical sporting bubble, which is often evoked in describing life in professional sport. This is a vernacular term used to capture and condemn the conditions of life of elite sportspeople (usually men), most commonly after there has been a sport-related scandal, especially of a sexual nature (Rowe). It is frequently paired with connotatively loaded adjectives like pampered and indulged. The sporting bubble is rarely interrogated in academic literature, the concept largely being left to the media and moral entrepreneurs. It is represented as involving a highly privileged but also pressurised life for those who live inside it. A sporting bubble is a world constructed for its most prized inhabitants that enables them to be protected from insurgents and to set the terms of their encounters with others, especially sport fans and disciplinary agents of the state. The Covid-19 pandemic both reinforced and reconfigured the operational concept of the bubble, re-arranging tensions between safety (protecting athletes) and fragility (short careers, risks of injury, etc.) for those within, while safeguarding those without from bubble contagion. Privilege and Precarity Bubble-induced social isolation, critics argue, encourages a loss of perspective among those under its protection, an entitled disconnection from the usual rules and responsibilities of everyday life. For this reason, the denizens of the sporting bubble are seen as being at risk to themselves and, more troublingly, to those allowed temporarily to penetrate it, especially young women who are first exploited by and then ejected from it (Benedict). There are many well-documented cases of professional male athletes “behaving badly” and trying to rely on institutional status and various versions of the sporting bubble for shelter (Flood and Dyson; Reel and Crouch; Wade). In the age of mobile and social media, it is increasingly difficult to keep misbehaviour in-house, resulting in a slew of media stories about, for example, drunkenness and sexual misconduct, such as when then-Sydney Roosters co-captain Mitchell Pearce was suspended and fined in 2016 after being filmed trying to force an unwanted kiss on a woman and then simulating a lewd act with her dog while drunk. There is contestation between those who condemn such behaviour as aberrant and those who regard it as the conventional expression of youthful masculinity as part of the familiar “boys will be boys” dictum. The latter naturalise an inequitable gender order, frequently treating sportsmen as victims of predatory women, and ignoring asymmetries of power between men and women, especially in homosocial environments (Toffoletti). For those in the sporting bubble (predominantly elite sportsmen and highly paid executives, also mostly men, with an array of service staff of both sexes moving in and out of it), life is reflected for those being protected via an array of screens (small screens in homes and indoor places of entertainment, and even smaller screens on theirs and others’ phones, as well as huge screens at sport events). These male sport stars are paid handsomely to use their skill and strength to perform for the sporting codes, their every facial expression and bodily action watched by the media and relayed to audiences. This is often a precarious existence, the usually brief career of an athlete worker being dependent on health, luck, age, successful competition with rivals, networks, and club and coach preferences. There is a large, aspirational reserve army of athletes vying to play at the elite level, despite risks of injury and invasive, life-changing medical interventions. Responsibility for avoiding performance and image enhancing drugs (PIEDs) also weighs heavily on their shoulders (Connor). Professional sportspeople, in their more reflective moments, know that their time in the limelight will soon be up, meaning that getting a ticket to the sporting bubble, even for a short time, can make all the difference to their post-sport lives and those of their families. The most vulnerable of the small minority of participants in sport who make a good, short-term living from it are those for whom, in the absence of quality education and prior social status, it is their sole likely means of upward social mobility (Spaaij). Elite sport performers are surrounded by minders, doctors, fitness instructors, therapists, coaches, advisors and other service personnel, all supporting athletes to stay focussed on and maximise performance quality to satisfy co-present crowds, broadcasters, sponsors, sports bodies and mass media audiences. The shield offered by the sporting bubble supports the teleological win-at-all-costs mentality of professional sport. The stakes are high, with athlete and executive salaries, sponsorships and broadcasting deals entangled in a complex web of investments in keeping the “talent” pivotal to the “attention economy” (Davenport and Beck)—the players that provide the content for sale—in top form. Yet, the bubble cannot be entirely secured and poor behaviour or performance can have devastating effects, including permanent injury or disability, mental illness and loss of reputation (Rowe, “Scandals and Sport”). Given this fragile materiality of the sporting bubble, it is striking that, in response to the sudden shutdown following the economic and health crisis caused by the 2020 global pandemic, the leaders of professional sport decided to create more of them and seek to seal the metaphorical and material space with unprecedented efficiency. The outcome was a multi-sided tale of mobility, confinement, capital, labour, and the gendering of sport and society. The Covid-19 Gilded Cage Sociologists such as Zygmunt Bauman and John Urry have analysed the socio-politics of mobilities, whereby some people in the world, such as tourists, can traverse the globe at their leisure, while others remain fixed in geographical space because they lack the means to be mobile or, in contrast, are involuntarily displaced by war, so-called “ethnic cleansing”, famine, poverty or environmental degradation. The Covid-19 global pandemic re-framed these matters of mobilities (Rowe, “Subjecting Pandemic Sport”), with conventional moving around—between houses, businesses, cities, regions and countries—suddenly subjected to the imperative to be static and, in perniciously unreflective technocratic discourse, “socially distanced” (when what was actually meant was to be “physically distanced”). The late-twentieth century analysis of the “risk society” by Ulrich Beck, in which the mysterious consequences of humans’ predation on their environment are visited upon them with terrifying force, was dramatically realised with the coming of Covid-19. In another iteration of the metaphor, it burst the bubble of twenty-first century global sport. What we today call sport was formed through the process of sportisation (Maguire), whereby hyper-local, folk physical play was reconfigured as multi-spatial industrialised sport in modernity, becoming increasingly reliant on individual athletes and teams travelling across the landscape and well over the horizon. Co-present crowds were, in turn, overshadowed in the sport economy when sport events were taken to much larger, dispersed audiences via the media, especially in broadcast mode (Nicholson, Kerr, and Sherwood). This lucrative mediation of professional sport, though, came with an unforgiving obligation to generate an uninterrupted supply of spectacular live sport content. The pandemic closed down most sports events and those that did take place lacked the crucial participation of the co-present crowd to provide the requisite event atmosphere demanded by those viewers accustomed to a sense of occasion. Instead, they received a strange spectacle of sport performers operating in empty “cathedrals”, often with a “faked” crowd presence. The mediated sport spectacle under the pandemic involved cardboard cut-out and sex doll spectators, Zoom images of fans on large screens, and sampled sounds of the crowd recycled from sport video games. Confected co-presence produced simulacra of the “real” as Baudrillardian visions came to life. The sporting bubble had become even more remote. For elite sportspeople routinely isolated from the “common people”, the live sport encounter offered some sensory experience of the social – the sounds, sights and even smells of the crowd. Now the sporting bubble closed in on an already insulated and insular existence. It exposed the irony of the bubble as a sign of both privileged mobility and incarcerated athlete work, both refuge and prison. Its logic of contagion also turned a structure intended to protect those inside from those outside into, as already observed, a mechanism to manage the threat of insiders to outsiders. In Australia, as in many other countries, the populace was enjoined by governments and health authorities to help prevent the spread of Covid-19 through isolation and immobility. There were various exceptions, principally those classified as essential workers, a heterogeneous cohort ranging from supermarket shelf stackers to pharmacists. People in the cultural, leisure and sports industries, including musicians, actors, and athletes, were not counted among this crucial labour force. Indeed, the performing arts (including dance, theatre and music) were put on ice with quite devastating effects on the livelihoods and wellbeing of those involved. So, with all major sports shut down (the exception being horse racing, which received the benefit both of government subsidies and expanding online gambling revenue), sport organisations began to represent themselves as essential services that could help sustain collective mental and even spiritual wellbeing. This case was made most aggressively by Australian Rugby League Commission Chairman, Peter V’landys, in contending that “an Australia without rugby league is not Australia”. In similar vein, prominent sport and media figure Phil Gould insisted, when describing rugby league fans in Western Sydney’s Penrith, “they’re lost, because the football’s not on … . It holds their families together. People don’t understand that … . Their life begins in the second week of March, and it ends in October”. Despite misgivings about public safety and equality before the pandemic regime, sporting bubbles were allowed to form, re-form and circulate. The indefinite shutdown of the National Rugby League (NRL) on 23 March 2020 was followed after negotiation between multiple entities by its reopening on 28 May 2020. The competition included a team from another nation-state (the Warriors from Aotearoa/New Zealand) in creating an international sporting bubble on the Central Coast of New South Wales, separating them from their families and friends across the Tasman Sea. Appeals to the mental health of fans and the importance of the NRL to myths of “Australianness” notwithstanding, the league had not prudently maintained a financial reserve and so could not afford to shut down for long. Significant gambling revenue for leagues like the NRL and Australian Football League (AFL) also influenced the push to return to sport business as usual. Sport contests were needed in order to exploit the gambling opportunities – especially online and mobile – stimulated by home “confinement”. During the coronavirus lockdowns, Australians’ weekly spending on gambling went up by 142 per cent, and the NRL earned significantly more than usual from gambling revenue—potentially $10 million above forecasts for 2020. Despite the clear financial imperative at play, including heavy reliance on gambling, sporting bubble-making involved special licence. The state of Queensland, which had pursued a hard-line approach by closing its borders for most of those wishing to cross them for biographical landmark events like family funerals and even for medical treatment in border communities, became “the nation's sporting hub”. Queensland became the home of most teams of the men’s AFL (notably the women’s AFLW season having been cancelled) following a large Covid-19 second wave in Melbourne. The women’s National Netball League was based exclusively in Queensland. This state, which for the first time hosted the AFL Grand Final, deployed sport as a tool in both national sports tourism marketing and internal pre-election politics, sponsoring a documentary, The Sporting Bubble 2020, via its Tourism and Events arm. While Queensland became the larger bubble incorporating many other sporting bubbles, both the AFL and the NRL had versions of the “fly in, fly out” labour rhythms conventionally associated with the mining industry in remote and regional areas. In this instance, though, the bubble experience did not involve long stays in miners’ camps or even the one-night hotel stopovers familiar to the popular music and sport industries. Here, the bubble moved, usually by plane, to fulfil the requirements of a live sport “gig”, whereupon it was immediately returned to its more solid bubble hub or to domestic self-isolation. In the space created between disciplined expectation and deplored non-compliance, the sporting bubble inevitably became the scrutinised object and subject of scandal. Sporting Bubble Scandals While people with a very low risk of spreading Covid-19 (coming from areas with no active cases) were denied entry to Queensland for even the most serious of reasons (for example, the death of a child), images of AFL players and their families socialising and enjoying swimming at the Royal Pines Resort sporting bubble crossed our screens. Yet, despite their (players’, officials’ and families’) relative privilege and freedom of movement under the AFL Covid-Safe Plan, some players and others inside the bubble were involved in “scandals”. Most notable was the case of a drunken brawl outside a Gold Coast strip club which led to two Richmond players being “banished”, suspended for 10 matches, and the club fined $100,000. But it was not only players who breached Covid-19 bubble protocols: Collingwood coaches Nathan Buckley and Brenton Sanderson paid the $50,000 fine imposed on the club for playing tennis in Perth outside their bubble, while Richmond was fined $45,000 after Brooke Cotchin, wife of team captain Trent, posted an image to Instagram of a Gold Coast day spa that she had visited outside the “hub” (the institutionally preferred term for bubble). She was subsequently distressed after being trolled. Also of concern was the lack of physical distancing, and the range of people allowed into the sporting bubble, including babysitters, grandparents, and swimming coaches (for children). There were other cases of players being caught leaving the bubble to attend parties and sharing videos of their “antics” on social media. Biosecurity breaches of bubbles by players occurred relatively frequently, with stern words from both the AFL and NRL leaders (and their clubs) and fines accumulating in the thousands of dollars. Some people were also caught sneaking into bubbles, with Lekahni Pearce, the girlfriend of Swans player Elijah Taylor, stating that it was easy in Perth, “no security, I didn’t see a security guard” (in Barron, Stevens, and Zaczek) (a month later, outside the bubble, they had broken up and he pled guilty to unlawfully assaulting her; Ramsey). Flouting the rules, despite stern threats from government, did not lead to any bubble being popped. The sport-media machine powering sporting bubbles continued to run, the attendant emotional or health risks accepted in the name of national cultural therapy, while sponsorship, advertising and gambling revenue continued to accumulate mostly for the benefit of men. Gendering Sporting Bubbles Designed as biosecurity structures to maintain the supply of media-sport content, keep players and other vital cogs of the machine running smoothly, and to exclude Covid-19, sporting bubbles were, in their most advanced form, exclusive luxury camps that illuminated the elevated socio-cultural status of sportsmen. The ongoing inequalities between men’s and women’s sport in Australia and around the world were clearly in evidence, as well as the politics of gender whereby women are obliged to “care” and men are enabled to be “careless” – or at least to manage carefully their “duty of care”. In Australia, the only sport for women that continued during the height of the Covid-19 lockdown was netball, which operated in a bubble that was one of sacrifice rather than privilege. With minimum salaries of only $30,000 – significantly less than the lowest-paid “rookies” in the AFL – and some being mothers of small children and/or with professional jobs juggled alongside their netball careers, these elite sportswomen wanted to continue to play despite the personal inconvenience or cost (Pavlidis). Not one breach of the netballers out of the bubble was reported, indicating that they took their responsibilities with appropriate seriousness and, perhaps, were subjected to less scrutiny than the sportsmen accustomed to attracting front-page headlines. National Netball League (also known after its Queensland-based naming rights sponsor as Suncorp Super Netball) players could be regarded as fortunate to have the opportunity to be in a bubble and to participate in their competition. The NRL Women’s (NRLW) Premiership season was also completed, but only involved four teams subject to fly in, fly out and bubble arrangements, and being played in so-called curtain-raiser games for the NRL. As noted earlier, the AFLW season was truncated, despite all the prior training and sacrifice required of its players. Similarly, because of their resource advantages, the UK men’s and boy’s top six tiers of association football were allowed to continue during lockdown, compared to only two for women and girls. In the United States, inequalities between men’s and women’s sports were clearly demonstrated by the conditions afforded to those elite sportswomen inside the Women’s National Basketball Association (WNBA) sport bubble in the IMG Academy in Florida. Players shared photos of rodent traps in their rooms, insect traps under their mattresses, inedible food and blocked plumbing in their bubble accommodation. These conditions were a far cry from the luxury usually afforded elite sportsmen, including in Florida’s Walt Disney World for the men’s NBA, and is just one of the many instances of how gendered inequality was both reproduced and exacerbated by Covid-19. Bursting the Bubble As we have seen, governments and corporate leaders in sport were able to create material and metaphorical bubbles during the Covid-19 lockdown in order to transmit stadium sport contests into home spaces. The rationale was the importance of sport to national identity, belonging and the routines and rhythms of life. But for whom? Many women, who still carry the major responsibilities of “care”, found that Covid-19 intensified the affective relations and gendered inequities of “home” as a leisure site (Fullagar and Pavlidis). Rates of domestic violence surged, and many women experienced significant anxiety and depression related to the stress of home confinement and home schooling. During the pandemic, women were also more likely to experience the stress and trauma of being first responders, witnessing virus-related sickness and death as the majority of nurses and care workers. They also bore the brunt of much of the economic and employment loss during this time. Also, as noted above, livelihoods in the arts and cultural sector did not receive the benefits of the “bubble”, despite having a comparable claim to sport in contributing significantly to societal wellbeing. This sector’s workforce is substantially female, although men dominate its senior roles. Despite these inequalities, after the late March to May hiatus, many elite male sportsmen – and some sportswomen - operated in a bubble. Moving in and out of them was not easy. Life inside could be mentally stressful (especially in long stays of up to 150 days in sports like cricket), and tabloid and social media troll punishment awaited those who were caught going “over the fence”. But, life in the sporting bubble was generally preferable to the daily realities of those afflicted by the trauma arising from forced home confinement, and for whom watching moving sports images was scant compensation for compulsory immobility. The ethical foundation of the sparkly, ephemeral fantasy of the sporting bubble is questionable when it is placed in the service of a voracious “media sports cultural complex” (Rowe, Global Media Sport) that consumes sport labour power and rolls back progress in gender relations as a default response to a global pandemic. Covid-19 dramatically highlighted social inequalities in many areas of life, including medical care, work, and sport. For the small minority of people involved in sport who are elite professionals, the only thing worse than being in a sporting bubble during the pandemic was not being in one, as being outside precluded their participation. Being inside the bubble was a privilege, albeit a dubious one. But, as in wider society, not all sporting bubbles are created equal. Some are more opulent than others, and the experiences of the supporting and the supported can be very different. The surface of the sporting bubble may be impermanent, but when its interior is opened up to scrutiny, it reveals some very durable structures of inequality. Bubbles are made to burst. They are, by nature, temporary, translucent structures created as spectacles. As a form of luminosity, bubbles “allow a thing or object to exist only as a flash, sparkle or shimmer” (Deleuze, 52). In echoing Deleuze, Angela McRobbie (54) argues that luminosity “softens and disguises the regulative dynamics of neoliberal society”. The sporting bubble was designed to discharge that function for those millions rendered immobile by home confinement legislation in Australia and around the world, who were having to deal with the associated trauma, risk and disadvantage. 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