Have we come to see the world in a way that allows us to exercise and condone corruption?

CORRUPTION is hardly a new phenomenon in India but in the past few months we have seen corruption of a scale never witnessed before. Every week brings in a new scandal. Corruption seems to have moved beyond its permanent abode (viz politics and the bureaucracy) into sports, the military, media, the judiciary, religion and godmen and corporate India. It is clear that the problem does not relate to isolated individuals but is of a systemic nature. Of course, corruption is by no means unique to India. But we do manage an impressive ninth rank in the world corruption charts. According to the same study, 54 per cent of Indians claimed to have paid a bribe in the past one year. It begs the question as to whether there is a cultural element to this phenomenon, without descending into gross cultural stereotypes that speak of corruption as a character trait. Is it possible that corruption is a manifestation of the ways in which we have collectively learnt to respond to certain contexts? Have we come to see the world in a way that allows us to exercise and condone corruption? At the heart of the Indian response lies the ambivalent relationship we have with the idea of power, particularly that of power acquired through man-made mechanisms like a designation or political office. Power is seen less as an instrument of making an impact but more as a condition that modifies one’s born station. Power makes all of us rulers, whatever may be the size of the territories. The fondness of visible signs of power (sirens, badges, entourage), as with the extreme touchiness when the less powerful question us, all point to the implicit mental model of power we carry. The election exists to pick rulers not public servants and promotions anoint new despots. It is revealing to see how naked this model of power is; a despotic boss who rides roughshod over his subordinates sees nothing wrong in enacting rituals of greasy subservience in front of his own boss. The message is clear—hierarchy itself must be respected and all power and all modes of use of power are legitimate. Hierarchy exists in every facet of life and we measure ourselves anxiously with those against whom we benchmark ourselves. Even in the private sector there exists a presumption that one should be paid what one’s batchmate gets for no other reason than that the two lie on the same social platform. What this wholehearted embrace of power does, is to legitimise all forms in which it comes to be used. Separated from the purpose for which it was created, it lives on in its mutant form, and recognises few boundaries of right and wrong. A system gets created around this mode of using power. Institutional power that is acquired, rather than in-born, is particularly difficult to digest. Given the deeply-rooted nature of Indian social organisation, where everyone has a defined place, and there exists a great certainty about rules and conventions that govern our lives, we find it difficult to navigate a world where rules do not carry the same invisible certitude. Rules are so visibly constructed by human beings that they carry little moral sanctity. They become frameworks within which we carry out negotiations with local circumstances. New social formations do not have the heft of the older (more defining) categories such as the community. And we struggle with figuring out what is appropriate behaviour for a ‘neighbour’ or an ‘elected representative’. New rules do not imprint themselves with the same finality. The fact that we see everyone around us display the same ambivalence re-inforces the doubts we carry about them. The same does not apply when we are in a developed country; there it becomes apparent that these rules are non-negotiable. The idea of using acquired power for socially-correct reasons has never really been ingrained in us. For all the railing against corruption, in our personal lives we are happy to excuse ourselves from the prescriptions we proffer. The belief that our values are implanted within us, because of a past that is mythically rather than historically defined, makes it easier to believe that all actions are therefore suffused with values by definition. Actions comes pre-fitted with presumed propriety and the outside world is not taken that seriously. By giving the individual endless latitude in dealing with his immediate circumstances, we engage with the world as hagglers, trying to hustle a better deal. Every ounce of power earned becomes useful leverage in extracting a little more. In this view of the world, power is useless unless converted into some form of currency. The awareness of its transience lends urgency to this need. The powerful thus create a system around the extraction of value from their good fortune. Patronage, rather than competency, becomes the key operating principle. Every kacheri, RTO office and passport office has an institutionalised set of touts, brokers and middlemen who get the work done for a fee. Citizens can carry out some civil action if they so desired. But the truth is that even as we moan, we take no interest in dealing with the graft right in front of us. Is there a reason why we are seeing so much corruption today? A change that we have seen in the past few years is the entry of the market into more arenas of our life. It is interesting to note how easily India has embraced the market. As a mechanism, it carries great resonance with the Indian ability to see the world as a place where we carry out negotiations. The market has given everyone a common vocabulary in which to transact. The market legitimises the pursuit and use of power for personal gain. Of course, when regulated well, the market is not allowed to penetrate all walks of life. In India, given the learnt collective tolerance for the personal use of power, the market seems to be present everywhere. For now certainly we seem united by corruption.