South Korea reclaims 409 km² from the sea and aims to crown it with a 3,600-room resort and casino

There are projects that are hard to imagine until they are put into perspective. Saemangeum, on the coast of the Korean Yellow Sea, is one of them: 409 square kilometers of new territory, literally reclaimed from the sea, between the cities of Gunsan and Buan. To give an idea, it is equivalent to two-thirds the area of Seoul or four times that of Paris.

That territory did not exist. It was created by building the longest seawall in the world and then draining the water trapped behind it. The result is some 291 square kilometers of land reclaimed from the sea, a 118-square-kilometer artificial lake, and a new port outside the barrier.

The public corporation developing it, Saemangeum Development Corporation (SCDO), has just put on the table the missing piece of the plan: an integrated resort with 3,600 hotel rooms and a casino.

The term is used often and little understood. An integrated resort (IR) is not a casino with a hotel next door: it is a complex where gaming is merely one of the pillars, typically the one that finances everything else. Hotel, convention center, retail, restaurants, theaters, and parks all coexist under the same operation.

Singapore perfected the model with Marina Bay Sands: the casino occupies a minimal fraction of the built-up area, but generates most of the margin and sustains a conventions and tourism business that multiplies the city's economic impact.

It is exactly the role that Saemangeum wants. Its president, Na Gyeong-gyun, stated clearly at Tuesday's press conference: the project “must have an anchor facility that drives tourism demand and investment.” And he concluded with a phrase worth highlighting: “The goal is not the casino itself, but to build an integrated resort.”

Here lies the Korean peculiarity, and it is the one that most confuses anyone reading the news from Latin America or Europe. In South Korea, there are seventeen casinos, and in sixteen of them, Korean citizens are barred from entry. Only foreigners with a passport can gamble.

The only exception is Kangwon Land, a resort deliberately situated in a former mountain mining area, far from major urban centers, originally created to revitalize a depressed region.

The Saemangeum casino would therefore be established under the “foreigner-only” regime. The SCDO does not hide its aspiration to one day admit local players, but the chairman himself acknowledges that this requires “national consensus” and a legal reform that “takes considerable time.” In other words: it is not on the table in the short term.

Saemangeum’s overall budget amounts to 22.2 trillion won, around 15.72 billion dollars. The central government is contributing 10.9 trillion won (7.72 billion dollars), the local government a nearly symbolic figure of 900 million won, and the remaining 10.3 trillion (7.29 billion dollars) must come from private investment.

That last line explains the entire operation: half the money is missing and must be attracted. Hence the integrated resort serving as a magnet.

The project's own legislation already provides the mechanism: a foreign investor injecting 500 million dollars or more into tourism projects may apply for a foreigners-only casino license. However, granting it is not automatic: it requires approval from the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism.

The urban development plan already sets aside a 36.8-square-kilometer “leisure and tourism zone”—12.7% of the total—distributed across several islands connected by bridges.

It is advisable to lower expectations to the same extent that the scale is impressive. The SCDO claims that foreign companies are “showing interest” and that it is in contact with a major Korean corporation planning the 3,600-room resort. It has not provided a single name.

Nor are there committed investment figures or a construction timeline. No permit has been applied for, no ministry has weighed in, and no agreement has been signed. This is a statement of intent from a public developer in need of private capital, not an awarded project.

And there is a precedent that carries weight: South Korea has spent years watching integrated resort projects in the Incheon area—Inspire, Midan City—accumulate delays, partner changes, and restructurings. The gap between announcement and opening, in this country, has been measured more than once in decades.

The regional context explains it. Japan will open its first integrated resort in Osaka, while the Philippines and Vietnam continue to expand their offerings. South Korea, which for years was a natural destination for Chinese and Japanese gaming tourism, risks being left watching as its neighbors take those visitors.

At the same time, state-run operator Grand Korea Leisure continues to grow in revenue and hire staff, a sign that foreign demand exists and is not saturated.

Saemangeum's bet is different from Incheon's: it does not target the tourist who lands and plays, but rather aims to build an entire city from scratch and use the resort as a catalyst. It is a very long-term play, the kind that only a State capable of reclaiming land from the sea can attempt.

For the Latin American industry, the takeaway is universal: the casino is no longer sold as a casino. It is sold as the mechanism that finances conventions, hotels, and jobs. Anyone who does not know how to tell that story to a regulator will find it difficult to obtain a license.