Part 6

(6) Certain cases in which political action is determined by corrupt considerations may be more effectively combated with moral than with legal sanctions. These are cases which threaten no very serious consequences, cases in which the corrupt considerations are not directly material in character, cases in which personal advantage is not so much sought as the advantage of some social group, and all other cases of so subtle or undecided a character that definite legal action, at least under existing conditions, is impossible. In the presence of many such difficulties we can only plead for a clearer recognition by the individual of duty to the state and to society as a whole. On the other hand, society and the state as now constituted fall short of a full and humane ideal of justice and hence are partly responsible for existing corruption.

Finally it should be said that all effective work against corruption must be two-fold. On the one hand we must endeavour to raise moral and legal standards to a higher level. On the other hand we must unrelentingly prosecute actual offences to the full extent of existing law. Work of the first sort must be either impersonal or based upon well authenticated facts. Work of the second sort must above all things be subjected to a wise restraint; sweeping charges resting merely upon suspicion must be scrupulously avoided; direct and well-founded charges must be put into legal form and fought to the last resort. Reformers should learn to bring down all direct and personal accusations to the level of existing law, until they have succeeded in bringing the level of the law up to their ideal standard.

FOOTNOTES:

[15] Other illustrations of auto-corruption may be found in speculation by inside officials on the basis of crop reports not yet made public, and in real-estate deals based on a knowledge of projected public improvements.

[16] Misperformance and neglect of duty do not clearly include cases of usurpation with corrupt motives; hence the addition of this clause to the definition. Some usurpations may of course be defended as involving high and unselfish motives, and hence free from corruption.

[17] Mr. Seeley has shown, of course, that no actual despotism, so-called, really conforms to this conception, but for purposes of argument, at least, the assumption may be permitted to stand.

[18] _Political Science Quarterly_, vol. xix (1904), p. 673.

[19] _Cf._ C. Howard, “The Spirit of Graft,” _Outlook_, vol. lxxxi (1905), p. 365.

[20] _Outlook_, 65:115 (May 12, 1905).

[21] _Political Science Quarterly_, vol. xviii (1902), p. 188.

[22] _Atlantic_, vol. xcv (1905), p. 781.

[23] J. E. C. Bodley, France, bk. iii, ch. vi, p. 306.

CORRUPTION: A PERSISTENT PROBLEM OF POLITICAL AND SOCIAL LIFE

III

CORRUPTION: A PERSISTENT PROBLEM OF POLITICAL AND SOCIAL LIFE

In its broadest significance, corruption has been defined as “the intentional misperformance or neglect of a recognised duty, or the unwarranted exercise of power, with the motive of gaining some advantage more or less directly personal.” Evil of this sort may occur not only in the state, but also in the church, the family, in business associations, and every other kind of social body. One may infer from the nature of corruption itself that if developed to an extreme degree it will cause the dissolution of any organisation affected by it. Every social body requires as a prime condition of its existence a certain subordination of individual interest to the general interest. Corruption essentially means the preference of the former to the latter. If self-interest continuously grows more potent while group interest _pari passu_ declines, evidently the social organisation so affected will weaken and finally die. “The king by judgment establisheth the land: but he that receiveth gifts overthroweth it.” Universally triumphant corruption, therefore, would destroy the body from which it had drawn the sustenance for its own parasitic life. Anarchy would be far preferable to the extreme logical consequences of corruption. For anarchy seeks to destroy only the compulsory political forms of human society, leaving men free to associate voluntarily in all other ways, whereas ultimate corruption would loosen every social bond and reduce humanity to the state of nature as Hobbes conceived it:—_bellum omnium contra omnes_.

Corruption, then, is a social disease that may terminate fatally. Social death does not always occur because of it, but from the social point of view it is always a pathological condition. Few of the great tragedies of history involving the fall of nations or of mighty institutions can be explained fully without reference to the antecedent corroding influence of corruption. It had a part in the decline of Greece and Rome, in the Protestant Reformation, the overthrow of the Stuart dynasty in England, the partition of Poland, and the French Revolution. Other causes contributed to these events and were perhaps more largely instrumental in bringing them about,—ignorance, inefficiency, tyranny, immorality, extravagance, and obstinacy,—but in each instance corruption was also present on a large scale. Even in cases of historical catastrophes where the crushing force was applied from the outside it is usually possible to discern how the victor’s path was smoothed by the disintegrating effect of corruption upon the social structure of the vanquished.[24] For this reason Europe fell more easily before Napoleon from 1796 to 1812, imperial France before Germany in 1870-’71, and Russia before Japan in 1904-’05.

While the disastrous consequences of widespread corruption as shown by such instances are not to be lightly underestimated, it is evident, on the other hand, that corrupt conditions may exist even on a considerable scale without bringing about the extreme penalty of disintegration or conquest. Recoveries little short of the miraculous are sometimes noted in this field of social pathology. It would be difficult to conceive a lower stage of degradation than that reached by the English ministry and parliament during and immediately following the time of Walpole, yet to-day England enjoys the reputation of possessing one of the most honest and efficient governments in the world. American municipal reformers sometimes despair of any efficacious remedy for the corruption which prevails in our cities. They should take heart upon observing the degraded conditions which prevailed in Prussian municipalities prior to Stein’s _Städteordnung_ of 1808, and in England prior to the Municipal Reform Act of 1835. In both instances formerly corrupt conditions have been succeeded by honest and efficient municipal systems which are observed with envy and commented upon with admiration the world over.

The conclusion which the foregoing illustrations seem to warrant is that while corruption is a pathological condition which in an extreme degree may lead to social death, it is also susceptible to treatment which may bring about recovery with renewed and even enhanced vigour. Between these two extremes every degree of partial strength or weakness may exist in a social body as a result of the presence or after effects of corruption. The Roman Church suffered a tremendous loss of influence in Western and Northern Europe as a result of the Reformation. It has never recovered this territory, but it survived as an institution which, modified by internal reforms, has acquired a greater influence and a greater number of communicants than the mediæval church ever dreamed of. Spain, partly through corruption, lost her colonial empire, but the mother country remains intact. True Lord Salisbury called it a “decadent nation,” but at least it is not in ruins. Germany was victor over corrupt imperial France in the last great European war. The progress of the _Vaterland_ since that event seems phenomenal, but already uneasy voices, troubled at contemporary conditions, particularly in the army and the emperor’s immediate entourage, are raising the question: “What does the future hold for us,—Jena or Sedan?” Conquered in 1870-’71, the French, in Gambetta’s deathless words, nevertheless remained “a great nation which does not wish to die.” The history of the Third Republic has been besmirched at times by scandals of the most offensively corrupt character. Yet in spite of this and other national weaknesses the outside world is probably altogether too much inclined to underestimate the latent strength of modern France.

Contemplation of the general evils which may result from corruption suggests the possibility of eliminating it from social life. While such a condition of affairs may be looked upon as an ideal, it will nevertheless remain an ultimate ideal which can be approximated rather than realised, and that only by the most patient, determined, and continued effort. Every social organisation, as we have seen, presupposes the subordination in some measure of personal to broader interests. But no matter how far social integration is carried, and social duty correspondingly emphasised, there will always remain a field for individual effort. Absolute communism in which the state shall be everything and the individual nothing is unthinkable. Even where the individual as such is but little regarded, he will remain a member of small social groups, as _e.g._, the family or business corporation, the interests of which are almost if not quite as close to him as the interests of his naked ego. The lines bounding the two great fields of individual interest and social interest are variously drawn in different countries and at different times. No doubt they will be redrawn in the future, probably greatly to the extension of social functions if one may judge from the present drift. Always, however, the two great fields will remain, and the best results in each will depend partly upon the activities of the other. In the main these activities do not conflict, indeed they strongly reinforce one another. When the individual pursues his daily work diligently and intelligently, although primarily with a selfish end in view, he is nevertheless adding to national wealth and welfare. So also with most of the activities of the family, the church, the club, and the business corporation. In each of these cases, however, it is inevitable that conflicts will sometimes occur between individual and narrow group interests on the one hand, and broader social interests on the other. These conflicts may gradually take on less selfish and less dangerous forms, but will hardly disappear so long as the character of the individual and the constitution of society remain fundamentally unchanged. The problem of corruption, therefore, is a persistent one. There will always remain the possibility of moral struggle for improvement; there will never be absolute perfection in these extensive and involved relationships.

A very striking implication of the persistent character of the problem may be found in the fact that much of the current terminology of political science implies the presence of corruption as a common factor in the life of the state. To modern students Greek classifications of forms of government appear rather naive, considered simply as classifications, but many of the separate terms employed in them nevertheless remain in general use. Plato, for example, describes the decline of the pure Republic ruled by philosophers who are actuated by the highest motives, first into Timarchy, next into Oligarchy, then into Democracy in the sense of mob rule, and finally into Tyranny. We must infer that in the real world, as the Philosopher saw it, the number of perfect Republics, granting that such beatific political entities or any acceptable approximation to them could exist, would be far less than the number of degenerate states. The common characteristic of all the latter from Timarchy to Tyranny is the predominance of some form of personal or narrow group interest over the highest interests of the state. In other words the great majority of state forms as classified by Plato are to be distinguished by the degree and kind of corruption they exhibit. Aristotle’s distinction between pure forms of constitutions,—Royalty, Aristocracy, and Polity,—and the corresponding perverted forms,—Tyranny, Oligarchy, and Democracy,—is based fundamentally upon the existence of purity or corruption in the sovereign, whether it be composed of the one, few, or many. Dealing as he was largely with actual constitutions, Aristotle makes it clear that in the world as he knew it, the corrupt forms of government, particularly oligarchy and democracy, were much more common than the pure forms, that, in fact, some degree of corruption was frequent, and purity, on the other hand, exceptional in political life. Other classifications of states regardless of their moral condition are, of course, possible. Mr. Seeley has given us one that, for modern purposes, is certainly much more useful than the Aristotelian. The continued use of the latter in common speech and, to a somewhat less extent in historical and scientific discussion, is evidence, however, of a high degree of availability in describing actual political conditions or what are believed to be such. And since this terminology implies the existence of corruption as an ordinary accompaniment of political life, its wide acceptance and continued use strengthens the conviction that corruption in some form is a persistent problem of politics.

While the general problem bids fair to remain with us always, the particular forms and extent of corruption will be subject to change in the future as in the past. History justifies the hope that these changes will be for the better.[25] Many of the grosser forms of corruption current in earlier periods are impossible now. Charles II. was not the only king of his century who accepted corrupt subsidies from foreign monarchs. At the present time it is impossible to doubt that the essential loyalty of the executive heads of the principal civilised countries of the world would be demonstrated unmistakably in case they should be approached by corrupt solicitation from the outside. The modern spirit of nationality and patriotism would wreak tremendous vengeance upon any royal offender against it. The loyalty of contemporary monarchs, however, is probably due in very slight degree, if at all, to the fear of punishment. In addition to the responsibility enforced upon constitutional kings, a keener sense on their part of participation in the national spirit and higher standards both of personal rectitude and of international dealings make corruption of this sort well nigh unthinkable in the modern world. To a large measure also these virtues have been extended over the whole administrative service of civilised states and absorbed as a part of current moral practice. Hence even in the case of inferior officials who have been seduced by foreign bribes, as _e.g._, the sale of military plans and secrets, a heavy penalty of popular obloquy is added to the severe penalty of the law.

The mention of Charles II. suggests another form of corruption, the earlier wide extension of which is familiar to every reader of history. In times past royal mistresses appeared openly at court, secured titles of nobility and grants of land for themselves, their children, and their favourites, dictated appointments in the civil and military service, and overruled decisions of internal and foreign policy. It may be admitted that the sexual morality of some contemporary monarchs is not above reproach. Yet the evil, so far as it exists to-day, is largely personal, and is chiefly objectionable because of its unfavourable influence upon the family life of the people at large. No modern king ruling over a civilised country, it is safe to say, could openly flaunt his mistresses and allow it to be seen that his passion for them affected his policies as head of the state.

As another illustration of the disappearance of certain forms of corruption once extremely common the famous case of Lord Bacon may be cited. His offence as Lord Chancellor consisted not in the taking of presents from suitors, for to do so after judgment was the open practice of the time. Inadvertently, however, Bacon accepted a present before a case was decided, and this was made the basis of the charge of corruption which brought about his downfall. The morality of the time had reached a stage at which it perceived clearly the corrupting effect upon the judicial mind of presents in advance of a decision, and held them to be bribes. It had not reached the modern point of view that the expectation of a present after giving decision is also corrupting, particularly since the present of one of the litigants is very likely to be larger than that of the other. One can safely maintain that the open receipt of presents by judicial officers of higher rank is extremely rare in English speaking countries and in Western Europe at the present time. Judges of our own lower courts are sometimes accused of truckling to the party influences to which they owe their election, but so far as it exists this is a much more subtle and surreptitious form of corruption than present giving, or as it would frankly be called nowadays, bribe-giving by litigants.[26] Any approach, or even appearance of approach, to offences of the latter sort would call forth sharp expressions of condemnation. In his “Four Aspects of Civic Duty,” President Taft presents a very striking and acute argument on the necessity of the exercise of extreme circumspection by judicial officials which will serve to illustrate the progress in morals from Lord Bacon’s time to the present:

“A most important principle in the success of a judicial system and procedure is that the administration of justice should seem to the public and the litigants to be impartial and righteous, as well as that it should actually be so. Continued lack of public confidence in the courts will sap their foundations. A careful and conscientious judge will, therefore, strive to avoid every appearance from which the always suspicious litigants may suspect an undue leaning toward the other side. He will give patient hearing to counsel for each party, and, however clear the case may be to him when stated, he will not betray his conclusion until he has heard in full from the party whose position cannot be supported. More than this, it not infrequently happens, however clear his mind in the outset, that argument, if he has not a pride of first opinion that is unjudicial, may lead him to change his view.

“This same principle is one that should lead judges not to accept courtesies like railroad passes from persons or companies frequently litigants in their courts. It is not that such courtesies would really influence them to decide a case in favour of such litigants when justice required a different result; but the possible evil is that if the defeated litigant learns of the extension of such courtesy to the judge or the court by his opponent he cannot be convinced that his cause was heard by an indifferent tribunal, and it weakens the authority and the general standing of the court.

“I knew of one judge who indignantly declared that of course he accepted passes, because he would not admit, by declining them, that such a little consideration or favour would influence his decision. But in the view I have given above a different ground for declining them can be found than the suggestion that such a courtesy would really influence his judgment in a case in which the railroad company giving the courtesy was a party.”[27]

The intimate relation between present giving and bribery, suggests another illustration somewhat similar to the preceding. Readers of the famous diary of Samuel Pepys are familiar with the fact that in his official capacity as Clerk of the Acts and Surveyor General of the Victualling Office he often accepted presents. In one instance we find him quoting with grave approval the sage observation of his patron, Lord Sandwich, to the effect that “it was not the salary of any place that did make a man rich, but the opportunity of getting money while he is in the place.”[28] Venal as it may appear to the modern reader Pepys undoubtedly lived up to this precept, and owed to its consistent practice the very considerable property which he afterwards amassed. Yet one would be over hasty to conclude that the author of the “Diary” was an arch corruptionist. On the contrary he was so distinctly superior, both in efficiency and honesty, to most of his colleagues, that he won much well-merited recognition and succeeded in retaining office practically throughout the whole Restoration period in spite of the many upheavals and intrigues of that troublous time. While Pepys frankly admits that he accepted presents he insists that he never forgot the “King’s interest.” The manifest danger of allowing an official to measure in this way the quality of service due a sovereign, does not seem to occur to the diarist. On the other hand, he refers frequently, and usually in terms of condemnation, to many contemporaries in the administrative service who, at least in his opinion, were much less scrupulous than they should have been in determining the “King’s interest.” Thus he records the utterances of a certain Cooling, the Lord Chamberlain’s secretary and a veritable drunken roaring Falstaff of corruption, who boasted that “his horse was a bribe, and his boots a bribe; and told us he was made up of bribes, as an Oxford scholar is set out with other men’s goods when he goes out of town, and that he makes every sort of tradesman to bribe him; and invited me home to his house, to taste of his bribe wine.”[29] Sometimes, indeed, Pepys became involved in transactions where the “King’s interest,” as he measured it, received less than its due share of attention. We find him fearing investigation in such cases, and withdrawing from them with the resolution not to allow himself to become similarly involved again. Yet on the whole there is every evidence of a conscious feeling on his part of rectitude superior to the administrative morals of the time. That it was largely justified in spite of the receipt of gifts may be seen from Dr. Wheatley’s comment to the effect that “public men in those days, without private property, must have starved if they had not taken fees, for the King had no idea of wasting his money by paying salaries. At the time of Pepys’s death there was a balance of £28,007, 2 _s._ 1¼ _d._ due to him from the Crown, and the original vouchers still remain an heirloom in the family.”[30]