Power and corruption

The CBI raids are nothing but the government's attempt to treat the symptoms rather than the disease of corruption.

"POWER corrupts," Lord Acton said presciently. That comment is, as we know only too well, not only still relevant but also a wound in the democracy we seek to build in the country. Again and again, we have been provided with evidence of this, until the very presentation becomes a sort of ritual, and more an achievement for investigating agencies and the media than a part of the larger endeavour it ought to be, the endeavour to stamp out dishonesty from public institutions.

In recent weeks, there has been a massive operation by the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) in which a large number of officials in government departments and public agencies such as the Delhi Development Authority (DDA) were arrested after evidence of their having amassed wealth in the shape of land, jewellery and cash was reportedly found. That news, and its implications for civil society, seems unfortunately to have been put aside as information came in of the terrible earthquake in the northern parts of the country, in Pakistan and in Afghanistan. All interest and concern turned, as was only natural, to the dimensions of the calamity and the rescue efforts being mounted to find and care for survivors.

But dreadful though the earthquake was, and, to a lesser degree, the train disaster near Datia just before that, it would not be right to put aside what the CBI's action has brought us face to face with when it arrested those officials. We saw grim evidence of what has been discussed publicly and privately for years: the extent to which corruption has spread through our public institutions like a disease. It may be that those arrested by the CBI are innocent; only the law and the courts will decide. But that there is this disease everywhere is a problem that cannot be only the subject of drawing-room conversations, or of occasional mention by leaders, no matter how distressed they sound.

India has been ranked by some international bodies - whose credentials are not immediately apparent - as among the 10 most corrupt countries in the world. Whatever this ranking may mean, the plain fact is that we, who live in this country, have been aware of corruption in public life for a long time. In fact, it would not be an exaggeration to say that all of us have come up against this, in one way or the other. The municipal authorities, the traffic policemen, officials in the Income Tax Department, the petty officials in rural areas who are charged with providing ration cards or some other service - at one time or another we have seen, and usually suffered, from the ugly dishonesty of these people. And done nothing about it; perhaps acquiesced in their greasy desire for a bribe or some `gift'.

What is it, then, we must ask ourselves that makes them do it? It is a question that has been asked over and over again, and studied and agonised over by social scientists and others, but something that has, unlike diseases, never been treated, except occasionally, as the CBI has just done. And, laudable though it is, the CBI's action is like putting some ointment on a rash that is the manifestation of some serious and dangerous disease. The question needs to be asked, because an answer to it must be found, an answer that goes to the root of the disease. Why are Indian officials considered more dishonest than those in Singapore?

To the best of my knowledge, the government has never really considered the question very seriously. It has concentrated on treating the symptoms; so we have CBI raids and arrests, inquiries by the Central Vigilance Commissioner (CVC) and other such agencies in the States, laws and rules to suppress the manifestation of the disease. The disease itself has not really been looked at - its prevention, and treatment considered, except academically. What, for example, is the link between dishonesty in public institutions and the salaries that dishonest officials and others at those levels receive? Is dishonesty the result of low incomes? Then why are not all officials of a certain level dishonest? Is it, perhaps, linked to domestic compulsions? Again, does it then mean that those who are not dishonest have no domestic problems?

It seems that the attention, and concern, of those who are charged with combating this evil, has been on those who are dishonest, and their motivation, their problems - which is a mistake. Their attention needs to shift to those who are honest, who abide by the rules, and who live on the same income as the dishonest ones. It is what makes them remain honest that is the key; if that can be looked at and studied perhaps the manner in which the dishonest ones can be dealt with will emerge and an effective way of treating the disease discovered.

SPEAKING very generally, it seems evident that the large incidence of dishonesty is not so much a comment on our society or the way we bring up children as on the systems that these officials are made a part of. These systems are, in many cases, no different at all from the systems put in place by the colonial power, where, as some of the more cynical among us will point out, salaries were kept low on the assumption that the officials would find `the rest' from bribes. Again, this is not a comment on the low level of salaries but on the exploitative nature of the system.

If one needs proof of this one has only to go to the office of the official who issues ration cards, by whatever name he is called in different States. The queues of applicants waiting their turn is one comment, but more than that, the way they are treated is most eloquent. Looking at it one will be hard put to believe it is an office in a democracy, where the government is answerable to the people. It is the office of a wielder of power, no matter how petty. The manner is disdainful, offensive and contemptuous; that of the applicants is meek, humble and servile. The office would have been appropriate in Mughal times, and is no different from the kind of office set up by the British.

They set them up, and looked on them indulgently; they could afford to, because whenever a sahib, that is, a senior officer, especially a white one came by, the grand manner of the official was replaced by abject, fawning servility, and done so ludicrously that the sahibs were highly entertained. They smiled, and did nothing. Now the latter day sahibs don't smile, but do nothing more, in deference to the `traditions' they have inherited from the British.

It is, then, finally a question of power. Power at its most petty, and power which is very great, such as the power of an Income Tax Commissioner. The dishonest ones among this lot consider being a Commissioner a means to dispense power; the honest ones see it as a responsibility to ensure the state's dues are collected.

Somewhere here, in the difference, there may be the germ of a solution, to the treatment of the disease. It is beyond the CBI, justifiably, as it is outside its mandate, but it should not certainly be beyond the highest in the land, especially when they profess to make the eradication of corruption one of their goals.