Every beginning has a preamble. Before we delve into the “Sons of Pigs,” we must discuss Michael Carritt, for it was from him that I drew the inspiration for this piece. However, pray do not mistake him for having any personal kinship with the “Sons of Pigs” himself. Not only was he a man of great virtue, but he was also a truly extraordinary individual. His father taught philosophy at Oxford University, and he himself was an Oxford graduate.
The Economics of the ‘Sons of Pigs’
In 1929, based on his performance in the competitive examinations, Michael Carritt joined the Indian Civil Service. His career commenced in the district of Midnapore. During his first year of service, he witnessed two successive English District Magistrates assassinated by militant nationalists. A third District Magistrate resigned and fled India before his tenure had even concluded. It was in the volatile regions of Midnapore that Carritt first beheld the ruthless face of imperial rule. Later, while serving in the Home Department, he was appalled by the sheer hypocrisy of British administration. Tasked with suppressing the nationalist movement, he found himself becoming increasingly sympathetic towards the Indians and was eventually drawn to the Communist movement.
In 1934, Michael Carritt took leave to return to Britain, where he established contact with the Communists. Returning to India in 1936, he assumed the role of Under Secretary in the Political Branch of the Home Department of the Bengal Presidency. While in this position, he leaked classified government information to the leaders of the then-proscribed Communist Party of India.
His accomplice in this venture was another Englishman—the Reverend Michael Scott. When the threat of detection by government intelligence became imminent, Carritt resigned and returned to Britain. It was nearly fifty years after leaving the service that Carritt penned his memoirs. He recorded the following encounter with a Punjabi contractor during his time as a Sub-Divisional Officer in Asansol:
“Meanwhile the Punjabi with assumed humility pleaded forgiveness, and then, in quiet and dignified tones he recited his set piece…. Your honour is a noble man. In this sad country there are three sorts of men. These are the good men who take no bribes, of whom you are one; there are the bad men who take bribes, and (looking me in the eyes) there are the suer-ka-batchhas (sons of pig) who take bribes but do not help the bribe-giver. Salam, Your Honour, Salam.”
In the conclusion of his memoirs, Carritt observed that throughout his long life, he had encountered all three types: the virtuous, the wicked, and the ‘sons of pigs.’
Many historians maintain that the ‘sons of pigs’ were birthed in this land during the British Raj. A prevailing conviction among most nationalist historians is that prior to British rule, corruption—or at least widespread corruption—was non-existent. In their view, while the British administrators themselves (barring the early conquerors) were generally not corrupt, the administrative system they established fostered rampant graft.
The British Raj introduced laws and institutions in the image of their own country. Yet, there was no synergy between the realities of Britain and the ground realities of this land. Consequently, an intermediary class emerged to bridge the gap between the alien administration and the local populace. It was through this intermediary class that corruption spread extensively across the nation.
However, the nationalist historians’ analysis of corruption is an oversimplification of history. Corruption is by no means a novelty in South Asian history; widespread corruption has plagued the administration of this region for ages. The Manusmriti was compiled nearly two thousand years ago. Two American professors have translated verses 123 and 124 of the seventh chapter of the Manusmriti as follows:
(123) For the men who are appointed by the king to protect (his subjects) generally become hypocrites who take the property of others and he must protect those subjects from them. (124) The king should banish and confiscate all the property of those evil-minded men who take money from parties to law suits.
Kautilya’s Arthashastra is also nearly two millennia old. Kautilya noted that government officials amass wealth in two ways: they either defraud the state or oppress the subjects. The Arthashastra identifies forty distinct methods of embezzlement and corruption employed by public servants. Despite being acutely aware of the evils of corruption, Kautilya considered it inevitable within the revenue department. Two passages from the Arthashastra have been rendered into English as follows:
“Just as it is impossible not to taste honey or poison that one may find at the tip of one’s tongue, so it is impossible for one dealing with government funds not to taste, at least a little bit of the king’s wealth. Just as it is impossible to know when a fish moving in water is drinking it, so it is impossible to find out where government servants in charge of undertaking misappropriate money.”
Much like other parts of South Asia, Bengal too suffered from extensive corruption. Medieval Bengali literature contains vivid descriptions of such malpractice. The sixteenth-century poet Mukundaram wrote:
“The administrators became messengers of death; they recorded fallow lands as cultivated, And they extorted bribes [dhutis] without providing a shred of service.”
The simplified meaning of the verses is as follows: The revenue official (representing the state) has become a curse. He classifies fallow land as cultivated (thereby imposing excessive taxes) and, despite receiving a bribe of a dhuti (cloth), fails to perform his duties correctly. Reading Mukundaram, one gets the impression that he does not lament the act of bribery itself; rather, his grievance lies in the fact that even after paying the bribe, the work remains undone. The grievance of this sixteenth-century Bengali poet is identical to that of the Punjabi contractor described by Carritt: the “Sons of Pigs” are making public life intolerable.
Such corruption is also documented in Bengali folk literature. In the Malua folk ballad, the local Qazi (judge) is described as follows:
“The Qazi is formidable, his power absolute; He shields the thief while casting the saint into a dungeon. He knows neither right nor wrong, nor the sanctity of justice; The villain is so depraved, he drags the virtuous bride from her home.”
Historical review makes it clear that corruption is by no means a novelty in this land. It has existed in other societies for ages. Yet, despite corruption being such an ancient and complex social malady, economists long ignored its deleterious effects in their theories. This neglect stems from two reasons: one historical, the other theoretical.
History bears witness that corruption is not necessarily inimical to political and economic development. Many historians believe that the lotus of capitalism blossomed from the very mire of corruption. In Europe, many capitalists began their careers by abusing state-granted monopolies and tax-farming privileges. In the nineteenth-century United States, widespread corruption at the state and local levels was world-renowned. Those who amassed their initial capital through plunder and became wealthy are famously known in American history as “Robber Barons.” There is a long-standing proverb in China that the greatest of dacoits are those who establish banks. History shows that economic development occurred in advanced nations despite corruption. However, one cannot establish a causal link between corruption and development based on these facts alone.
From a theoretical perspective, many social scientists believed that corruption could actually facilitate development. They argued that the impediments the state apparatus places in the path of capitalist growth cannot be removed without sweeping political change. Conversely, within an administrative stalemate, corruption allows one to bypass various hurdles at a lower cost. Through the “virtue” of a bribe, it is possible to circumvent the tyranny of red tape and secure swift decisions. Thus, Samuel Huntington, a consultant to the CIA, once decreed that a highly centralised, corrupt bureaucracy is preferable to a highly centralised, honest one. Of course, this argument is fundamentally flawed. Once bribes are introduced to expedite decisions, no decision will ever be made without one. All matters will be stalled until a bribe is secured. In the long run, corruption becomes a barrier to, rather than a catalyst for, swift decision-making.
The greatest weakness in Mr Huntington’s argument is that he views corrupt bureaucrats merely as “bad men.” He failed to account for the “Sons of Pigs” tier of officialdom. Modern economists suggest that a bribe is a form of unwritten contract. Since such contracts cannot be enforced in a court of law, the risk of a breach of trust is high. Consequently, economists distinguish between two types of corruption: Predictable Corruption and Unpredictable Corruption. Predictable corruption is a system where paying a bribe guarantees the desired outcome. Investors often find this tolerable—even preferable—as it allows them to conclude business quickly. The most damaging form for an economy is Unpredictable Corruption, which Michael Carritt termed the corruption of the “Sons of Pigs.” In such a system, there is no certainty of success even after the bribe is paid.
Reviewing the experiences of various states, it appears that autocracies and centralised regimes provide a fertile ground for predictable corruption. Where power is fragmented, one must pay tribute at every port. This increases the cost of bribery. Furthermore, it becomes impossible to ensure that a large number of individuals will remain “loyal” to the bribe. Thus, in democratic environments, the “Sons of Pigs” type of official is more likely to thrive.
For a long time, economists ignored corruption entirely, refusing to identify it as an economic problem. In 1968, the Nobel laureate Gunnar Myrdal published his landmark work, Asian Drama, in which he argued forcefully for the eradication of corruption in the interest of economic development. For three decades, Myrdal’s plea was a lone voice crying in the wilderness. Recently, however, economists have begun to grasp the gravity of corruption for two reasons. Firstly, the rapid global expansion of corruption: in many countries, bureaucracies have devolved into “Kleptocracies” (rule by thieves). Secondly, whereas past economic analyses ignored risk and uncertainty, recent theoretical advances have highlighted the profound negative impacts of the risks and uncertainties generated by corruption.
Recent research emphasises four major evils of corruption:
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Macroeconomic Instability: In corrupt states, the revenue department fails to provide the government with necessary resources, while the corrupt government itself tends toward increased spending. This imbalance leads to ballooning budget deficits and runaway inflation.
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Environmental Degradation: In corrupt societies, environmental laws are subverted through manipulation, leading to rapid ecological decay.
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Economic Inequality: Corruption exacerbates inequality. The poor and the propertyless bear the full brunt of it. The wealthy can pay bribes to have “seven murders forgiven,” while the helpless and impoverished pay the ultimate price.
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Discouragement of Investment: Various surveys show that corruption deters foreign investors. Unless absolutely compelled, foreign investors are loath to invest in a climate where bribes are the norm.
Of course, no simplified explanation of corruption is possible, and experts even disagree on its definition. A recent World Bank report defined corruption as “the abuse of public office for private gain.” This definition is far too narrow. It is not only government employees who are corrupt; corruption (such as fraud and adulteration) is rampant among private-sector businessmen as well. Furthermore, corruption is not limited to the economic sphere; political corruption is also widespread. As a wag in India once remarked, politicians and dacoits do the same work, but in reverse order: a dacoit first commits the robbery and then goes to jail; a politician first goes to jail and, upon release, commits the robbery. Yet, the greatest problem remains administrative corruption, for without the firm supervision of administrative officials, economic corruption cannot be contained.
Regarding crime, two distinct schools of thought generally prevail among philosophers. The first contends that criminals are inherently innocent and in no way different from other members of society; rather, it is society—through its various injustices and systemic failures—that transforms innocent individuals into criminals. Consequently, the eradication of crime necessitates, first and foremost, a transformation of the social order. The second school maintains that the responsibility for crime lies not with society, but with the criminals themselves. Therefore, crime control requires the imposition of exemplary punishment. This philosophical divergence regarding crime is equally applicable to the analysis of corruption.
One group of sociologists argues that the root cause of corruption is not an inherent criminal propensity among government employees, but rather the fact that in most developing nations, their salaries are woefully inadequate. In the developing world, low-income public servants are often forced to live in subhuman conditions; thus, for them, the acceptance of bribes becomes a natural recourse. Scholars of this persuasion recommend that to reduce corruption, the salaries of government employees must be increased. With adequate pay, they would be able to meet their basic needs, thereby increasing their productivity. Furthermore, higher wages would foster a greater sense of loyalty to their positions; they would be unwilling to risk losing their livelihood by taking bribes.
From the perspectives of productivity and social justice, there is ample justification for increasing the salaries of public servants in the Third World. However, whether this actually reduces corruption remains a matter of doubt, primarily for four reasons.
Firstly, while hiring new staff with adequate pay might lower the inclination towards corruption, is it truly possible to reform those already habituated to it through higher wages? Many will likely pocket the increased salary while continuing to solicit bribes. Moreover, corrupt officials within an administration rarely allow honest ones to remain in peace. Regarding the world of currency, Lord Gresham famously posited that “bad money drives out good.” A similar trend is observed in administration: corrupt employees tend to drive out the honest ones.
Secondly, most developing nations lack the financial capacity to significantly increase the pay of their entire civil service. Furthermore, there has been an alarming “explosion” in the number of public sector employees, many of whom serve no essential purpose. Under such circumstances, a blanket pay rise for all staff is neither desirable nor feasible.
Thirdly, in developed nations, it is expected that if public sector salaries match or exceed those in the private sector, the state can attract honest and efficient personnel. Yet, in many developing countries like Bangladesh, the salaries and benefits of lower-tier public servants are already higher than those of their private-sector counterparts. Despite this, public sector employees in these countries are neither more honest nor more diligent than those in the private sector.
Ultimately, there is no guarantee that higher pay alone will eliminate corruption. The American economist Gordon Tullock highlighted a counter-intuitive reality known as the Tullock Paradox. Tullock observed that experience shows those receiving very high salaries often accept remarkably small bribes. In the United States, Vice President Spiro Agnew was forced to resign over a relatively paltry sum. A New York State legislator once arranged for millions of dollars in subsidies in exchange for a bribe of a mere three thousand dollars. While increasing salaries may assist in curbing corruption, it is by no means a sufficient solution on its own.
Another school of economists believes that the primary requirement for reducing corruption is the prosecution and punishment of the corrupt in accordance with the law. Proponents of this view cite the experiences of Hong Kong, Chile, and New South Wales. In the 1960s, Hong Kong’s anti-corruption agency achieved remarkable success. Similarly, independent commissions have proven effective in curbing corruption in Chile and the Australian state of New South Wales. However, while anti-corruption bodies have succeeded in some instances, they have failed in most developing countries.
Anti-corruption crusades do not succeed in every society. It is only possible to punish corrupt officials in countries where the administration still retains a significant number of honest officers. In a country where the vast majority of officials are on the take, who is to catch the thief? As the Bengali proverb goes: “The ghost has entered the very mustard seeds intended to exorcise it.” The anti-corruption agency itself becomes infected. Such institutions do not eliminate corruption; they merely ensure a “fair distribution” of the spoils. Curbing corruption is a protracted process, and it is often impossible to secure the long-term political commitment required to sustain it. Occasional “drives” are insufficient to banish the scourge.
If corruption is confined to a few sectors of society, it is easily suppressed; however, corruption is often not merely the deviance of a few, but a rot that permeates the entire social fabric. It becomes a systemic problem. In such societies, corruption triggers a perpetual chain reaction: one form of corruption gives birth to another, and the contagion spreads from one sector to the next. In this environment, the law is powerless against the mighty. In the words of historian Will Durant:
“Law is a spider’s web that catches the little flies and lets the big bugs escape.”
Any instance of corruption within public administration involves three parties: the government employees, the public, and the government. While government employees may be influenced by pay rises or penalties, the elimination of corruption requires the active participation of both the government and the citizenry.
There is a significant difference between the ancient state and the modern state regarding corruption. In ancient states, the intensity of corruption increased as the level of exploitation grew. In the modern state, however, corruption flourishes even when the government genuinely seeks to do good for the people. One reason for this is that in the modern state, the institutions are often ill-suited to their tasks, and the procedures remain utterly divorced from reality.
Here is the translation of the final part of the article into fine British English, maintaining the sharp, satirical edge and scholarly rigor of Akbar Ali Khan’s writing.
The pre-eminent example of an ill-suited institution is the state-owned enterprise. The primary justification for such entities was that their profits would fund welfare schemes for the poor. In reality, across the globe, state-owned enterprises have become a colossal burden upon the state. The American humorist Will Rogers offered apt counsel on this matter:
“The business of government is to keep the government out of business—that is, unless business needs government aid.”
The core principle of a private enterprise is profit. The responsibility of a public institution, by contrast, is accountability and transparency. Money can be counted; accountability and transparency cannot be so easily measured. While the chief duty of a private firm is production, the primary function of a public institution often becomes the masterful articulation of excuses. Consequently, public institutions create a fertile breeding ground for corruption. To reduce corruption, one must inevitably downsize the government and curtail commercial transactions within the public sector.
From a procedural standpoint, the greatest malady of the modern state is that today’s politicians seek political solutions to economic problems, while attempting to resolve political issues through economic means. This stems from the inherent impatience of politicians. They crave the performance of “quick magic,” however fleeting, to demonstrate to the electorate that they possess the remedy for every ailment. In truth, many economic and social problems have no guaranteed political fix, and such interventions often prove counterproductive.
Let us consider an example. In 1958, when martial law was declared in Pakistan, the military rulers were eager to appease urban citizens. At that time, a major grievance in the cities of East Pakistan was the lack of pure milk; it was frequently adulterated with water. From an economic perspective, water was added because most consumers lacked the means to pay the true price of milk. Due to this lack of purchasing power, production remained limited.
Neither the price of milk nor its adulteration will decrease unless the supply is increased; thus, the economic solution lies in boosting production. However, such a solution takes time, and military rulers are famously short on patience. They bypassed the economic remedy in favour of a political one. Prior to martial law, a judge would impose a fine for adulteration at his discretion. The military rulers believed that simply increasing the penalty would deter the practice. Thus, in 1959, a new law was enacted, setting the minimum fine for food adulteration at 150 rupees.
In 1959, 150 rupees was equivalent to several thousand in today’s currency. During the 1960s, I personally experienced the application of this law. Under its provisions, I fined approximately one hundred defendants in a mofussil town the sum of 150 rupees each. I expected that this would curb the dilution of milk. However, reports from the market revealed that after these punishments, adulteration had actually increased.
The reason was simple: the imposition of high fines by the court increased the predatory power of the sanitary inspectors. They began to threaten the milkmen, warning them that if they were hauled before the court, the new magistrate would fine them heavily. To compensate for the bribes now demanded by the sanitary inspectors, the milkmen added even more water to their milk. As a judge, I saw with my own eyes that in attempting to solve the problem, I had only made it more acute.
In the context of Bangladesh, it is impossible for the government to stop the dilution of milk through legislation alone. There is no utility in enacting a law that the state cannot enforce; indeed, it is harmful. Plato rightly observed that there is no point in making laws, for good men do not need them to act responsibly, and bad men will always find a way to circumvent them.
To reduce corruption, unrealistic laws must be repealed. Simultaneously, the discretionary powers of government officials must be curtailed. As long as permits and licenses exist, corruption will persist. Wherever resources are scarce and claimants are many, licenses and permits are born. These are political solutions to economic problems. Yet, the economic solution to such problems is quite straightforward: if the supply of a commodity is low, its price will rise. If controls are removed, the market will ensure the supply of any product at its true value. To deny the market is not to solve the problem, but merely to foster corruption.
Government employees generally have no interest in reducing their own corruption; many are, in fact, its chief patrons. While many political leaders may genuinely wish to eradicate corruption, they are often rendered ineffective by the resistance of the bureaucracy—and quite often, they are afflicted by the same malady themselves. Therefore, the eradication of corruption requires a social and political movement. Even then, it will not be easily uprooted.
The “Sons of Pigs” were not born in a single day, and they will not vanish overnight. The first step in this protracted process must be the reduction of the size of the government. The public must understand that, under the current structure, when the government attempts to “do good,” it often results in harm rather than benefit. Will Rogers was correct about the government:
“We should never blame the government for not doing something. It is when they do something is when they become dangerous.”
The citizens of developing nations must say to their government:
“Honoured Sir, we seek no favours from you; merely have the mercy to restrain your ‘Sons of Pigs’.”
Translated by Economics Gurukul Desk
References
- Carritt, Michael, A Mole in the Crown (London: Central Books Ltd., 1985), p. 62.
- Doniger, Wendy and Smith, Brian K., tr., The Laws of Manu (New Delhi: Penguin Books India, 1991), p. 141.
- Kautilya, The Arthasastra, Rangarajan, L., tr., (New Delhi: Penguin Books India, 1992), p. 296.
- Kangle, R. P., The Kautilya Arthasastra (Bombay: University of Bombay, 1972), p. 91.
- Cited in Dr Muhammad Shahidullah, Bangla Sahityer Katha, Vol. II (Dhaka: Renaissance Printers, 1967), p. 392.
- Mukhopadhyay, Sukhamay, Mymensingh Gitika (Calcutta: Bharati Book Stall, 1970), p. 68.
- Huntington, Samuel P., Political Order in Changing Societies (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1968), p. 386.
- Bardhan, Pranab, “Corruption and Development: A Review of Issues”, Journal of Economic Literature, Vol. XXXV, No. 3, pp. 1320-1346.
- Myrdal, Gunnar, Asian Drama (New York: Pantheon, 1968), Vol. II.
- World Bank, World Development Report 1997 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997), p. 102.
- Tullock, Gordon, “The Costs of Special Privilege” in Perspectives on Positive Political Economy, Alt, James E. and Shepsle, Kenneth A., ed., (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), pp. 195-211.
- Durant, Will, The Life of Greece (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1963), p. 117.
- Peter, Laurence J., Peter’s Quotations (New York: Quill, 1977), p. 84.
- Howard, Philip K., The Death of Common Sense (New York: Random House, 1994), p. 99.
- Rogers, Will, The Wit and Wisdom of Will Rogers, Ayres, Alex, ed., (New York: Penguin, 1993), p. 93.