By Khoo Ying Hooi
During my recent visit to Timor-Leste, one thing stood out; not just the resilient beauty of the people or the growing energy of Dili’s streets, but the unmistakable rise of gambling in its various forms. While futu manu (cockfighting) and small-stakes betting have long existed in local culture, what’s unfolding now feels different. New structures are emerging, and with them, an ambitious narrative: that gambling could be part of Timor-Leste’s economic transformation. Yet, this gamble invites both reflection and caution.
Gambling is not new to the country. Traditional forms like futu manu have been embedded in social and cultural life for generations, often framed as rituals of masculinity, celebration, or local community bonding. These activities are typically limited in scope, deeply rooted in custom, and subject to communal norms rather than market logics. But what we are seeing today goes beyond tradition. It signals a shift towards formal, regulated gambling as part of a broader economic strategy; one that deserves a closer and more critical look.
In 2025, Timor-Leste made headlines when it issued its first offshore gambling license to Golden River Universe (GRU), a subsidiary of the national lottery operator GD Lotto. This license was granted under a newly developed legal framework that allows online gambling targeted exclusively at foreign markets. Operators must be locally incorporated and physically present in the country, but are forbidden from serving Timorese citizens. The move has been framed by some policymakers and business players as part of an “Asia’s Malta” vision, positioning Timor-Leste as a regulatory hub for compliant, export-only digital gaming. GRU even announced plans to move its global operations, including R&D and tech support, to Dili and the Oecusse special economic zone.
At the same time, a Singapore-based company, Asia-Pacific Strategic Investments Ltd (APSI), signed agreements with the government to build a luxury casino and five-star resort. The US$60 million project, reportedly accompanied by a banking initiative, will make it the first land-based casino in the country. For a nation looking to diversify away from its oil dependency and volatile public finances, these developments are understandably attractive. They promise investment, tourism, and jobs; at least on paper.
Yet there is something troubling in how fast these initiatives are unfolding, and how little public debate surrounds them. At heart lies a fundamental tension: can a country like Timor-Leste, still recovering from the legacies of occupation, poverty, and institutional fragility navigate the moral, cultural, and social risks that come with gambling?
This is a predominantly Catholic country, one of the few in Asia where over 95% of the population adheres to the faith. Church teachings and local norms remain strong, especially outside urban centres. In 2024, President José Ramos-Horta himself has repeatedly voiced concern over gambling’s social impact, insisting that casinos should not be accessible to ordinary Timorese citizens, lest “some poor Timorese lose everything… with sometimes tragic consequences.” His support for offshore-only models rests on the belief that economic benefit can be captured without social harm.
But that boundary is more fragile than it seems. In other countries, the introduction of gambling, even in supposedly export-only forms, has often led to leaks into domestic markets, illegal gambling dens, and increased addiction, especially among youth and low-income communities. In a nation where social safety nets remain limited, and where youth unemployment and disillusionment are growing, gambling risks preying on vulnerability. Even if regulations explicitly forbid local participation, enforcement capacity is another matter entirely.
Moreover, we must ask: who truly benefits? Will casino revenues trickle down to rural districts, or circulate mainly among elites and foreign investors? Will offshore gaming licenses create meaningful jobs for Timorese youth, or will high-skilled roles be outsourced abroad? These are questions that echo across many developing nations experimenting with gaming sectors, and they deserve honest scrutiny.
There is also the matter of governance. Transparency International’s 2024 Corruption Perceptions Index (CPI) placed Timor-Leste in the mid-range, signalling ongoing institutional challenges. Introducing high-cash, transnational industries like gambling into this environment demands strong anti-corruption frameworks, independent oversight, and political will; all of which are easier said than done. Without them, the risk of elite capture and shadow deals grows.
This is not an argument against all forms of gambling or economic experimentation. It is an argument for care, for democratic conversation, and for grounding national development in the realities of culture, history, and capacity. Timor-Leste’s aspirations for economic diversification are legitimate, even urgent. The petroleum fund is finite, and young people rightly demand more opportunities. But the pathways to prosperity must be weighed against their long-term social costs.
There are examples to learn from. Some jurisdictions, like Malta and the Isle of Man, have carved out niche reputations as gaming hubs with strong regulatory oversight. Others, like Laos and Cambodia, have struggled with corruption, crime, and domestic fallout from poorly regulated gambling industries. The difference lies not just in legislation, but in whether the broader ecosystem including legal, social, and ethical can sustain such an industry responsibly.
Perhaps the most overlooked question is: how do Timorese themselves feel about this shift? Have local voices such as youth, religious leaders, community groups been consulted or included in shaping these policies? Or are we witnessing the quiet encroachment of an elite-driven economic strategy, presented as inevitability rather than choice?
In Dili, I met young people excited about jobs, curious about technology, but wary of promises made without inclusion. Their aspirations are clear: education, meaningful work, dignity. If gambling is to play any role in Timor-Leste’s future, it must be subordinate to these goals, and not a distraction from them.
Gambling, like any industry, is not inherently good or bad. It is a mirror; it reflects a society’s priorities, values, and vulnerabilities. In Timor-Leste, a country that has endured colonization, war, and immense sacrifice, the stakes of nation-building remain high. If the current gamble succeeds, it must do so on Timorese terms: with transparency, safeguards, and above all, the consent of the people.
Anything less would be a betrayal of the very future this young democracy is trying to build.
*(Dr Khoo Ying Hooi is associate professor at the Universiti Malaya, Malaysia)
