In the glimmering streets of Beverly Hills, James Packer, the erstwhile kingpin of the Australian gaming industry, wove a narrative of retreat and revelation as he paused his leisurely stroll to speak of life’s changing tides. This enigmatic billionaire, whose name once echoed through the marbled halls of Crown Resorts, offered a candid reflection of his journey and the geopolitical shifts that may shape its next chapter.
Far from the cacophony of slot machines and the frenetic energy of the casino floor, Packer spoke without reservation or nostalgia. His declaration was unequivocal: “I never want to go near a business like that again,” he divulged to The Nightly, a new media beacon in Australia’s journalistic landscape. The controlled chaos of regulated enterprise had lost its allure; the shifting sands of governmental whims that had once been the backdrop of his corporate theater had now become a cautionary allegory.
Packer’s saga is framed by grandeur and tumult. Heir to a vast media dominion upon the demise of his father in 2005, Packer ventured from the certainty of Nine Network and Australian Consolidated Press to court the fickle fortunes of the gaming world. The transition was bold, a metamorphosis from mogul to casino czar that ensnared an entire nation’s imagination.
Yet, in a twist befitting Greek theatre, Packer’s world would unravel. In the early months of 2018, with mental tempests swirling, he yielded the crowns of chairman and CEO and abdicated his throne. The prologue to this downfall was penned two years prior, with the arrest of 19 Crown employees on Chinese soil—the sirens that foretold the approaching storm.
A shared vision, Melco Crown, bridged Packer’s ambitions with those of Lawrence Ho—two scions converging in the glittering uncertainty of Macau. Their creations, City of Dreams and Studio City, were monuments to possibility. But when accusations of affronts to Chinese market norms surfaced, the partnership frayed and fragmented, leaving Packer to count both his profits and his losses.
The aftermath saw Packer recede from the limelight, a gradual divestment from the empire he once ruled. In time, the Blackstone monolith would claim his remaining 37% stake in Crown, an au revoir inked with a $2.2 billion flourish.
Cloistered from the frenzy that he had once navigated, Packer now gazes back, not with regret, but with the detached introspection of a man who has weathered storms. He acknowledges the transgressions of his former kingdom: “I accept Crown did things that it should not have done and I apologize for that,” a concession that humanizes the titan.
Yet in his contemplation, Packer’s gaze invariably turns outward to the vast expanse of China. Here he discerns a shadow thrown by Xi Jinping’s tenure, a once fertile ground for investment now perceived as a thicket of unpredictability. “I’m not going back to China, no way,” he asserts, lamenting the land’s fall from investor grace. To Packer, the allure of the Middle Kingdom has diminished, its promise dwindled amidst tightening grips and veering courses.
As Packer finds solace in the nascent bloom of new romance and the tranquil harbors of mental reprieve, he measures his words with the temperance of one who has glimpsed the zeniths of joy and the nadirs of despair. He muses on sensibility and the search for serenity, a conquistador now seeking the conquering of his own internal realms. “Mentally, I think I’m better than I’ve been for a while. I am just trying to be sensible and enjoy life more and be more relaxed,” he ruminates, perhaps pondering what chapters remain unwritten in the voluminous book of James Packer.
