In a revelation that sends ripples through the corridors of power and profit, a cloak of omission hangs over the UK Gambling Commission (UKGC) regarding a consequential oversight. At the heart of this intricate tapestry lies Allwyn, the Czech conglomerate that recently took the helm of the United Kingdom’s National Lottery amidst glittering promises of fortune and philanthropy. Gravitationally bound to an £80 billion prize, stakeholders watched as Allwyn emerged victorious from a fray of competitive bidders, dashing the long-held tenure of Camelot, the original custodian since 1994.
Yet, beneath the surface of this corporate triumph, a thread of controversy lingered, invisible to the legislative eye. Allwyn, it came to light through probing journalism by The Guardian, harbored a financial skeleton in its closet—a series of loans from Russian state-owned entities, Sberbank and VTB, summing to a staggering £545 million. These loans, like specters of a former world order, evoked concern given their origin: the very heart of the Kremlin’s financial empire.
The timing of these events casts a shadow over the transparency of this corporate tableau. February 2022, a month shadowed by the grim specter of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, was significant for two reasons. It was the moment when Allwyn’s debts to the Russian banks were disclosed to the UKGC. Simultaneously, the world watched in horror as military forces surged across borders, and the UK responded by sanctioning VTB, four days parting this revelation from the onset of global conflict.
In a flurry of fiscal legerdemain, Allwyn repaid these loans in March—the month succeeding their anointment as the crown bearer of the National Lottery. The fiscal specters had been exorcised, but the questions about the ghosts remained.
Venturing further into Allwyn’s labyrinthine business dealings leads to a clandestine alliance forged in 2016—a pact with Gazprom, Russia’s leviathan of energy, to create a subterranean gas reservoir in the Czech lands. This endeavor, measured against the promise made to the UK government of severing all Russian ties prior to assuming the lottery’s leadership, revealed a differential in action and word. It was not until 16 days after commencing lottery operations that Allwyn reduced Gazprom’s stake to a mere 3%, with vows of dissolving it completely by the end of the calendar turn.
This dance with the Russian bear, while not colored by illegality or wrongdoing—for commerce with Russia was not forbidden before the clarion call of sanctions—found itself at odds with political expectation.
The omission of this financial entanglement from the UKGC’s discourse with lawmakers during a critical July 2022 evidence session has drawn ire from parliamentarian watchdogs. Labour MP Clive Efford echoed the frustrations of the uninformed, declaring the UKGC’s reticence on Allwyn’s Russian-tinged loans both mystifying and unacceptable—a dagger of doubt thrust into the heart of the bidding process.
Controversy clings to the aftermath of this grand lottery transition, as excluded aspirants, including Camelot and IGT, lobbied claims of a marred and flawed selection process against the UKGC, seeking judicial redress.
Amidst legal skirmishes, Allwyn remains beset by an embattled commencement of operations, citing disruptions that threaten to thwart their lofty promise of increasing charitable endowments in their inaugural year—a pledge that swayed the balance in its favor during the bid for the lottery’s golden ticket.
As the narrative unfolds, the UKGC’s unvoiced truths occupy the space between candor and strategy, and the industry waits with bated breath for the next fold in a saga of politics, profit, and the soundless steps of contracts signed in the shadows.
