BOSTON -- THE PRESS, literally, at least, were publicly caged. Protesters, as they increasingly are in the 21st Century, were confined to a “free-speech area.” The meeting was watched over by 120 motorized police and 50 police dogs imported from communities with no say in the day’s proceedings. There — in Middleboro, last Saturday — 2,387 voters agreed to join with 1,460 citizens of the Mashpee Wampanoag nation in wagging the cur we call Massachusetts. They voted to oblige the town and its servants to support the Wampanoags’ plan to build a huge casino in a forest that until earlier this year had been public lands.

The lawyers representing Middleboro had recommended that the town hold out for a better deal. The planning board had voted 5 to 2 against it. The official casino study group had voted 7 to 0 in favor, though one must assume a degree of self-selection in such a body: Were a medical-marijuana dispensary or public gallows proposed, one guesses the corresponding study committees would also be unanimous.

The last point exposes a curious oddity: Like marijuana and hanging, casino gambling is against the law in Massachusetts. Yet by the power they invested in themselves, the 2,387 obliged the town and its officials to bear witness in favor of the $1 billion casino; and within moments selectmen signed a 21-page agreement binding themselves to do so.

I know people who would be just tickled to have a binding arrangement for selectmen to support their using lethal force against backfiring motorcyclists, amplified radiophiles and the like. That is absurd, of course, but the legal issue is the same: How can officials be bound to support an activity that is currently against the law? What of their oaths of office? What of the oaths of those who may be elected in the future, who may in good conscience be against the casino? What of oaths if circumstances change?! If the town’s lawyers and planning board prove to have been right? If environmental review foretells catastrophe? Selectmen I have covered have often taken longer to consider a motion to adjourn than Middleboro’s selectmen took to sign on the dotted line. Perhaps the 21 pages of small print will explain everything.

What Middleboro really did on Saturday was to place a bet on the town’s future. Like all bets it was against the odds. It was a sincere bet that their children’s children will live better in a gambling town than in the unconvincingly promoted “Cranberry Capital.” (The real Middleboro today is not a bog!) Good evidence that future reality is probably to the contrary was available; nonetheless, the bet was eagerly placed. That is why it is a bet against the odds, and why gamblers lose more often than they win. The lure of gambling is the illusion that the improbable, which can happen, will happen.

Before being caged on Saturday, more press probably roamed free in Middleboro than at any time since the town’s founding, as Nemasket, in 1660. What seems to have escaped most of them is that the casino site, which is on the northerly side of Route 44, bounded also by Plympton, Precinct and Plymouth streets, is a horrid site for a billion-dollar development of any kind. It is the prettiest part of the second-largest town (in area) in the state: mature wet and upland forest; fields; and farm stands. On the periphery are lovely houses recalling Currier & Ives. It is unspoiled New England seen in photographs from a century ago.

So where are our environmentalists? What became of “smart-growth” near transit sites? Governor Patrick has a global-warming policy; wherefore his silence about this? Where is Barney Frank — Middleboro’s representative in Congress? As Middleboro went to vote, Sen. John Kerry demanded the suspension of Atlanta Falcons’ quarterback Michael Vick. What are his thoughts about the casino? In Middleboro, the house signs nearest to the casino were against it; as one drove south into town, the preponderance turned in favor. (The weekend before the vote someone stole all the “anti” signs along Plymouth Street.)

Neither the eager-to-sign selectmen, the muted politicians, nor our wandering reporters seem to have investigated how the environmental review would work: If the Mashpee Wampanoags successfully petition the Bureau of Indian Affairs to make their land purchases part of their “nation,” the bureau itself will conduct the review. The town and state would lose all control. But if Governor Patrick cuts a deal directly with the tribe entailing no sovereignty, the state, depending on the language, might or might not retain the right of environmental review over this massive development.

Five miles to the east of the casino site, the modernization of Route 44 in Carver was delayed some 40 years, until a culvert under the relocated highway was agreed to. At last count the culvert accommodated 13 endangered spotted turtles. Go figure.

I figure that the fix is in — my evidence being the tail wagging the dog and the cart being before the horse. The people’s land to be sold to the Mashpee Wampanoags. The tribe’s federal recognition in a year the Democratic Congress has pointedly re-imposed politically inspired recognitions on the Bureau of Indian Affairs. Flips on casino gambling by leading politicians. A flip by The Boston Globe two days before the referendum. A quickie referendum in one town, with insufficient due diligence. Mashpee Wampanoags – 1,460 of them—speaking for Massachusetts — 6.2 million of us. Voters in Middleboro — 2,387 of them — speaking for the impact on all of Bristol (546,331 of them) and Plymouth (472,822) counties.

Is this old grouch missing something? Or am I getting something?

David A. Mittell Jr. is a member of The Journal’s editorial board.