Part 4

Certain verbal difficulties must first be cleared away. Chief among these, perhaps, is the extreme levity with which the word is bandied about. One word, indeed, is not sufficient, and a number of slang equivalents and other variants must needs be pressed into service: graft, boodle, rake-off, booty, loot, spoils, and so on. With all due recognition of recent achievements in the way of gathering and presenting evidence, it is lamentably apparent that charges of corruption are still very frequently brought forward, by party men and reformers alike, on slight grounds or no grounds at all, and also that in many of these cases no intention exists of pushing either accusation or defence to a point where a thorough threshing-out of the matter at issue is possible. In “practical politics” insinuations of the blackest character are made jestingly, and they are ignored or passed off with a shrug or a smile, provided only that they be not of too pointed or too personal a character. Very serious evils may follow reckless mudslinging of this sort. Even if the charges are looked upon as the natural and harmless exuberances of our current political warfare, their constant repetition tends to blur the whole popular conception of corruption. Insensibly the conviction gains ground that practices which are asserted to be so common can scarcely be wholly bad, since public life goes on without apparent change and private prosperity seems unaffected. If, on the other hand, the current accusations of corruption are to be taken at anything like their face value, it becomes difficult to avoid the pessimism that sees nothing but rottenness in our social arrangements and despairs of all constructive reform with present materials.

A second verbal point that demands attention is the metaphorical character of the word corruption. Even when it is distinctly qualified as political or business or social corruption, the suggestion is subtly conveyed of organic corruption and of everything vile and repugnant to the physical senses which the latter implies. It need not be charged that such implications are purposely cultivated: indeed they are so obvious and common that their use by this time has become a matter of habit. Witness in current writing the frequent juxtaposition of the word corruption, used with reference to social phenomena, with such words as slime, filth, sewage, stench, tainted, rottenness, gangrene, pollution, and the frequent comparison of those who are supposed to profit by such corruption to vultures, hyenas, jackals, and so on. Side by side with the levity already criticised we accordingly find a usage which, however exaggerated and rhetorical it may be, appears to indicate a strong popular feeling against what are deemed to be corrupt practices.

Escape from such confusion can hardly come from the accepted formulas of the dictionaries. Their descriptions or periphrases of corruption are in general much too broad for use in exact discussion. Bribery, indeed, is defined with sufficient sharpness by the _Century Dictionary_ as

“a gift or gratuity bestowed for the purpose of influencing the action or conduct of the receiver; especially money or any valuable consideration given or promised for the betrayal of a trust or the corrupt performance of an allotted duty, as to a fiduciary agent, a judge, legislator or other public officer, a witness, a voter, _etc._”

Corruption, however, is by no means synonymous with bribery. The latter is narrower, more direct, less subtle. There can be no bribe-taker without a bribe-giver, but corruption can and frequently does exist even when there are no personal tempters or guilty confederates. A legislator may be approached by a person interested in a certain corporation and may be promised a definite reward for his favourable vote on a measure clearly harmful to the public interest but calculated to benefit the corporation concerned. If the bargain be consummated it is unquestionably a case of bribery, and the action involved is also corrupt. But, if current reports are to be believed, it sometimes happens that legislators, acting wholly on their own initiative and regardless of their duty to the state, vote favourably or unfavourably on pending bills, endeavouring at the same time to profit financially by their action, or by their knowledge of the resultant action of the body to which they belong, by speculation in the open market. In the latter instance they have not been approached by a personal tempter, and the brokers whom they employ to buy or sell may be ignorant of the motives or even of the identity of their patrons. Clearly this is not bribery, but equally clearly it is corrupt. The distinction is perhaps sufficiently important to justify the coinage of the term “auto-corruption” to cover cases of the latter sort.[15] Corruption in the widest sense of the term would then include both bribery and auto-corruption, and may be defined as _the intentional misperformance or neglect of a recognised duty, or the unwarranted exercise of power,_[16] _with the motive of gaining some advantage more or less directly personal_.

It will be observed that none of the terms of the foregoing definition necessarily confines corruption to the field of politics. This is intentional. Corruption is quite as possible elsewhere as in the state. That it has so frequently been discussed as peculiarly political is by no means proof that government is subject to it in a greater degree than other social organisations. One might rather conclude that the earlier discovery and more vigorous denunciation of corruption as a political evil showed greater purgative virtue in the state than in other spheres of human activity. For surely the day is gone by when the clamour of reformers was all for a “business administration” of public affairs. Since that era business has had to look sharply to its own morals—in insurance, in public utilities, in railroads, in corporate finance, and elsewhere. Revelations in these fields have made it plain that much of the impetus to wrong-doing in the political sphere comes originally from business interests. This is not to be taken as in any sense exculpating the public officials concerned; it simply indicates the guilt of the business man as _particeps criminis_ with the politician. Moreover business can and does suffer from forms of corruption which are peculiar to itself and which in no way involve political turpitude. Such offences range all the way from the sale by a clerk of business secrets to a rival concern, and the receipt of presents or gratuitous entertainment from wholesalers by the buyers for retail firms, up to the juggling of financial reports by directors, the mismanagement of physical property by insiders who wish to buy out small stockholders, and the investment of insurance or other trust funds to the private advantage of managerial officers.

Besides business and politics, other spheres of social activity are subject to corrupt influences. Indeed wherever and whenever there is duty to be shirked or improperly performed for motives of more or less immediate advantage evil of this sort may enter in. This is the case with the church, the family, with educational associations, clubs, and so on throughout the whole list of social organisations. To ingratiate himself with wealthy or influential parishioners, for example, a minister may suppress convictions which his duty to God and religion requires him to express. A large proportion of the cases of divorce, marital infidelity, and childless unions, reflect the operation of corrupt influences upon our family life. In the struggle for endowments and bequests colleges and universities have at times forgotten some of their high ideals. If corrupt motives play a smaller part in the social organisations just mentioned than in politics or business it is perhaps not so much due to the finer fibre of churchmen, professors, and the like, as to the subjection of the more grossly gainful to other motives in clerical, educational, and similar circles.

While the possibility of corruption is thus seen to be extremely broad, our present concern is chiefly with political corruption. To adjust the definition hazarded above to cover the latter case alone it is necessary only to qualify the word “duty” by the phrase “to the state.” Further discussion of the various terms of the definition, thus amended, would seem advisable.

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I. To begin with, corruption is _intentional_. The political duty involved is perceived, but it is neglected or misperformed for reasons narrower than those which the state intends. Failure to meet a recognised duty is not necessarily corrupt; it may be due to simple inefficiency. The corrupt official must know the better and choose the worse; the inefficient official does not know any better. In either case the external circumstances may appear to be closely similar, and the immediate results may be equally harmful. No doubt what is often denounced in the United States as corruption is mere official stupidity, particularly in those spheres of administration still filled by amateurs and dominated by the “rotation of office” theory. Thus a purchasing official unfamiliar with his duties may prove the source of large profits to unscrupulous dealers. So far as the official himself is concerned no private advantage may be sought or gained, but the public interest suffers just the same. In another case the official understands the situation thoroughly and takes advantage of it by compelling the dealers to divide with him the amount by which the government is being defrauded, or he may go into business with the aid of office boys or relatives and sell to himself as purchasing agent. The latter are clear cases of bribery and auto-corruption respectively, but so far as immediate results are concerned the state is no worse off than with the official who was merely ignorant or careless. To one not in full possession of the underlying facts all three cases may appear very similar.

Successful corruption, however, tends to become insatiable, and in the long run the state may suffer far more from it and from the spread of the bad moral example which it involves than it can easily suffer from simple inefficiency. On the other hand inefficiency also may spread by imitation, although perhaps more slowly, since it is not immediately profitable, until the whole service of government is weakened. Moreover inefficiency may develop by a very natural process into thoroughgoing corruption. If not too stupid, the incapable official may come to see the advantages which others are deriving from his incapacity and may endeavour to participate in them. Because of his failure to obtain promotion so rapidly as his more efficient fellow-servants, he may be peculiarly liable to the temptation to get on by crooked courses. Practically, therefore, inefficiency and corruption are apt to be very closely connected—a fact which civil service reformers have long recognised. It would also seem that the two are very closely connected in their essential nature, and only a very qualified assent can be given to the doctrine that inefficiency, as commonly understood, is morally blameless. To be so considered the incapable person must be entirely unaware of his inability to measure up to the full requirement of duty. In any other event he is consciously and intentionally ministering to a personal interest, be it love of ease or desire to retain an income which he does not earn, to the neglect of the public duties with which he is intrusted. Now, according to the definition presented above, this attitude is unquestionably corrupt. It is, however, so common on the part of both officeholders and citizens that its corruptness is seldom recognised.

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II. Political _duty_ must exist or there is no possibility of being corruptly unfaithful to it. This statement may seem a truism, but the logical consequences to be drawn from it are of major importance. Among other things it follows that the more widely political duties are diffused the more widespread are the possibilities of corruption. A government which does not rest upon popular suffrage may be a very bad sort of government in many ways, but it will not suffer from vote-buying. To carry this thought out fully let us assume an absolute despotism in which the arbitrary will of the ruler is the sole source of power.[17] In such a case it is manifestly impossible to speak of corruption. By hypothesis the despot owes no duty to the state or to his subjects. Philosophers who defend absolute government naturally lay great stress on the monarch’s duty to God, but this argument may be read out of court on the basis of Mencius’s dictum that Heaven is merely a silent partner in the state. The case is not materially altered when responsibility under natural law is insisted upon instead of to the Deity. Now since an absolute despot is bound to no tangible duty, he cannot be corrupt in any way. If in the conduct of his government he takes account of nothing but the grossest of his physical lusts he is nevertheless not unfaithful to the principles on which that government rests. Viewed from a higher conception of the state his rule may be unspeakably bad, but the accusation of corruption does not and cannot hold against it.

Conversely corruption necessarily finds its richest field in highly organised political communities which have developed most fully the idea of duty and which have intrusted its performance to the largest number of officials and citizens. The modern movement toward democracy and responsible government, beneficent as its results in general have been, has unquestionably opened up greater opportunities for evil of this sort than were ever dreamed of in the ancient and mediæval world. Economic evolution has co-operated with political evolution in the process. There is a direct and well-recognised relationship between popular institutions and the growth of wealth. It is no mere coincidence that those countries which have the most liberal governments are also to-day the richest countries of the world. With their growth in wealth, particularly where wealth is distributed very unequally, materialistic views of life have gained ground rapidly. Thus while the liberal development in politics has opened up wide new areas to the possibility of corruption, the corresponding development in the economic world has strengthened the forces of temptation.

Viewed in this light it must be admitted that our representative democracy with its great international obligations, its increasing range of governmental functions, its enormous and unequally distributed wealth and its intense materialism, is peculiarly subject to corrupt influence. This does not necessarily mean that the republic is destined to be overwhelmed by selfishness. It does mean, however, that we cannot rest secure upon the moral achievements of our ancestors and the institutions which they have transmitted to us. We must develop a more robust virtue, capable of resisting the greater pressure that is brought to bear upon it.

But even if it be conceded that there is a greater measure of successful temptation among us than in the European nations which twit us with corruption as our national vice, it does not follow that we are inferior in political morality to these, our self-appointed moral censors. Reverting to the illustration of vote-buying, it is evident that we could stop this particular form of corruption at once by the simple and obvious, although practically impossible, measure of abolishing popular suffrage. Assuming, for the sake of the argument, that this could be accomplished, we might readily find ourselves burdened with greater political evils than venal voting—for instance, the development of an arrogant oligarchy and the growth either of a sodden indifferentism or of a violent revolutionary spirit among the masses. A large percentage of Prussian citizens of the poorer classes sullenly refrain from voting, nor are they in the habit of selling their votes. Presumably some of them would be venal if they had the opportunity, but the plutocratic three-class election system makes their political influence so minimal that their ballots are not worth either the casting or the buying. Neither do Prussian municipal officials engage in boodling, but the ascription of superior virtue to them on this account must be tempered by a knowledge of the fact that the local government of the country is kept closely in leading strings by the state. Paradoxical as it may seem, it is none the less true that political corruption implies the existence of political virtue; it implies trust in the performance of duty, widespread obligation to perform it, and confidence that in the great majority of cases it will be performed in spite of the derelictions that such conditions occasionally entail. If monarchies are less corrupt than democracies, it is also true that monarchies do not repose so much faith in the fundamental honesty of their citizens as do democracies. At least they do not put it to such severe political tests.

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III. In attempting to define corruption, emphasis was laid upon the condition that the duty misperformed or neglected for personal reasons must be _recognised_. The latter word needs further elucidation. Political duties are defined at great length, of course, in constitutions, laws, and charters. Yet with all our care in providing laws to govern our governors it cannot be maintained that political duty is always so clear as to be easily recognisable. It may indeed be the case that we have at times clouded the situation by the very number and complexity of our legislative acts. Able lawyers frequently differ, for instance, in their views regarding the powers and limitations affecting the action of a mayor under a city charter in a given case. Again, the amount of work required of limited bodies of men is sometimes so great that its full performance is physically impossible, even if we assume perfect comprehension and perfect efficiency on their part. Thus our municipal police forces, it is often asserted, are quite insufficient to execute all the laws and ordinances which it is their duty to enforce. The discretion which they must therefore exercise is an extremely dangerous one, and the continuance of its exercise, suggesting the possibility of suppressing this or that law for personal reasons, is very apt to be provocative of corrupt manipulation.

Apart from the difficulty of clearly perceiving duty, owing to the number and complexity of our legal requirements, certain degrees of difficulty, varying with the nature of the political service required, deserve consideration. A public official whose work is purely administrative and ministerial would supposedly have a relatively clear path before him. Deflection from it should be easily recognisable and punishable. Thus the making of inspections or the granting of permits by authorised officials would seem to be too open for corrupt influences to tamper with. Yet even here the complexities and volume of the business presented and the material interests involved lead to many dishonest practices, as shown in the granting of liquor licenses and building permits, the inspection of life-saving devices, and so on. Judicial authorities have statutes and precedents to guide them, but every new case presents peculiar circumstances which may furnish opportunity or concealment for a sinister deflection. When we come to superior executive officers who are intrusted with large discretionary powers, and to legislators whose main function is the determination of policy, it is evident that the path of duty is frequently indefinite. To officials so situated personal advantages may offer themselves on both sides of a given question. Amid so complicated a play of motives as must assail these authorities, it becomes at times a matter of almost infinite difficulty to distinguish and disentangle those more or less remotely personal and venal and to give proper weight to those only that make for the welfare of the state.

In discussing the question of the clearness with which duty presents itself we have thus far assumed that relatively exact positive norms are available. The question is greatly complicated, however, by the reflection that we must deal not only with the law but also with the prophets. What of those who, like the socialists, dream of a future state to which they owe allegiance rather than to the present state? Or of those whose elevation to power, as not infrequently happens under representative government, is due to a certain class in the community, the ideals of which they feel bound to support, be they levelling or aristocratic? Assuming that officials or voters of this kind seek no personal advantage whatever, the accusation of corruption would not hold against them, although those injured by their action would most certainly make such charges.

On the other hand advanced reformers do not hesitate to charge with corruption many existing social institutions of apparent solidity. Periods of confusion in constitutional arrangements, as Professor H. J. Ford has pointed out,[18] are apt to be corrupt, or at least filled with charges of corruption. Doubtless the same observation would hold true for periods of class feeling or moral unsettlement, which, after all, are only the precursors of constitutional reform. At times when all kinds of conflicting views of duty are current, it is of course easy for different individuals and classes to form extremely divergent views of the morality or immorality of given acts or institutions. Thus, among us, property of various sorts and property in general, government in certain forms or in all forms, marriage, the church, medicine, and law, and those who represent them, are all denounced by small or large groups as graft and grafters. And indeed one need not be a thoroughgoing radical to observe that in some instances narrow and selfish interests have crept into these institutions, warped their highest ideals and crippled their efficiency. There seems to be little justification, however, for the employment of the word corruption in such sweeping fashion. Those who so employ it cannot pretend that any general consensus of moral opinion supports their usage. No doubt many propositions for social change which are now considered extremely radical will gradually gain converts and will ultimately be enacted into law; but not all reforms can appeal unerringly to the future for justification. Institutions hotly assailed in times past have not infrequently outlived their detractors and developed new possibilities of social utility. The formation of modern nationality itself wore the appearance of corruption to many contemporary observers. With all due respect for unfledged reforms, we may fitly remind their advocates that the force of a hard and stinging word like corruption is materially weakened by employing it in senses familiar only to the members of a small circle. Such reckless usage is similar to that of the party politicians criticised above, and it is similarly adapted to produce either a callous levity or a sour distrust of social integrity which in the end must react unfavourably upon every constructive effort for social betterment.

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