The Big Destructiveness Of The Tiny Bribe

                                                                                         Alexandra Wrage 03.01.2010

      The smallest bribes can be the most vexing. Not suitcases full of money and transfers to offshore accounts, but the thousands of everyday payments people make to Indian building inspectors, Chinese customs officials and Nigerian airport functionaries, just to get things done. They’re payments for routine government services that a government official is legally obliged to perform but for which he’s hoping to skim off a little extra.

      Unlike more serious bribes, these very modest payouts, formally known as “facilitating payments”, are not against the laws of the U.S., Canada, Australia, New Zealand or South Korea, when made abroad. They’re illegal for Great Britain, but the Serious Fraud Office there has taken the extraordinary public position that they’re unlikely to give rise to a prosecution.

      Why don’t governments that lead the fight against large-scale bribery fall in line with what is already the practice of many major companies? They don’t want to outlaw such small-scale graft in foreign places, they say, because they don’t have the manpower to prosecute violators. By that logic, communities with just enough resources to handle murder and armed robbery would give a green light to shoplifting. You’d think a government could at least go after a few high-profile cases to set an example and a precedent. Permitting these smaller payments has to impede the effort to crack down on the larger ones. Companies know this.

      “Facilitating” bribes are not tips. Tipping is voluntary, and you decide to do it after a service has been rendered. You don’t pay it at the outset to induce the waiter to bring the food, and you can always go somewhere else to eat next time should the service be bad. Nor are they welfare for underpaid civil servants. If government workers are underpaid, we should compensate them for the cost of customs inspections or airport security by aboveboard means, through taxation and so forth. Payment to individuals not only slows service but also encourages entrepreneurial civil servants to increase their income by creating more and greater obstacles.

      Nor are they a mere distraction from the fight against bigger bribes. Rather, they fuel the problem. Junior officials who look for small bribes rise to higher positions by paying off those above them. Corruption creates pyramids of illegal payments flowing upward. Legalizing the base of the pyramid gives it a strong and lasting foundation.

       Nor are these payments legal where they’re made. They may not be banned by the wealthy countries mentioned above, but they are outlawed in the countries where they’re actually a problem. Do developed countries want to say they wouldn’t tolerate such payments at home but don’t care if they’re made abroad? And since they’re illegal in the countries where they’re paid, companies can’t put them on their books. The classic cover for a bribe is to call it a “consulting fee”, but that is a books and records violation that is illegal in any country.

                                                                                                             (www.forbes.com. Adaptado.)

Billions of dollars spent on defeating improvised explosive devices (IED) are beginning to show what technology can and cannot do for the evolving struggle.

Two platoons of U.S. Army scouts are in a field deep in the notorious “Triangle of Death” south of Baghdad, a region of countless clashes between Sunni insurgents and Shia militias. The platoons are guided by a local man who’s warned them of pressure-plate improvised explosive devices, designed to explode when stepped on. He has assured them that he knows where the IED’s are, which means he is almost certainly a former Sunni insurgent.

The platoons come under harassing fire. It stops, but later the tension mounts again as they maneuver near an abandoned house known to shelter al-Qaeda fighters. A shot rings out; the scouts take cover. They don’t realize it’s just their local guide, with an itchy trigger finger, taking the potshot at the house. The lieutenant leading the patrol summons three riflemen to cover the abandoned house.

Then all hell breaks loose. One of the riflemen, a sergeant, steps on a pressure-plate IED. The blast badly injures him, the two other riflemen, and the lieutenant. A Navy explosives specialist along on the mission immediately springs into action, using classified gear to comb the area for more bombs. Until he gives the all clear, no one can move, not even to tend the bleeding men. Meanwhile, one of the frozen-inspace scouts notices another IED right next to him and gives a shout, provoking more combing in his area. Then a big area has to be cleared so that the medevac helicopter already on the way can land.

That incident, which took place on 7 November 2007, exhibits many of the hallmarks of the missions in Iraq and Afghanistan – a small patrol; a local man of dubious background; Navy specialists working with soldiers on dry land; and costly technologies pressed into service against cheap and crude weapons. And, most of all, death by IED.  

Billions of dollars spent on defeating improvised explosive devices (IED) are beginning to show what technology can and cannot do for the evolving struggle.

Two platoons of U.S. Army scouts are in a field deep in the notorious “Triangle of Death” south of Baghdad, a region of countless clashes between Sunni insurgents and Shia militias. The platoons are guided by a local man who’s warned them of pressure-plate improvised explosive devices, designed to explode when stepped on. He has assured them that he knows where the IED’s are, which means he is almost certainly a former Sunni insurgent.

The platoons come under harassing fire. It stops, but later the tension mounts again as they maneuver near an abandoned house known to shelter al-Qaeda fighters. A shot rings out; the scouts take cover. They don’t realize it’s just their local guide, with an itchy trigger finger, taking the potshot at the house. The lieutenant leading the patrol summons three riflemen to cover the abandoned house.

Then all hell breaks loose. One of the riflemen, a sergeant, steps on a pressure-plate IED. The blast badly injures him, the two other riflemen, and the lieutenant. A Navy explosives specialist along on the mission immediately springs into action, using classified gear to comb the area for more bombs. Until he gives the all clear, no one can move, not even to tend the bleeding men. Meanwhile, one of the frozen-inspace scouts notices another IED right next to him and gives a shout, provoking more combing in his area. Then a big area has to be cleared so that the medevac helicopter already on the way can land.

That incident, which took place on 7 November 2007, exhibits many of the hallmarks of the missions in Iraq and Afghanistan – a small patrol; a local man of dubious background; Navy specialists working with soldiers on dry land; and costly technologies pressed into service against cheap and crude weapons. And, most of all, death by IED.  

Billions of dollars spent on defeating improvised explosive devices (IED) are beginning to show what technology can and cannot do for the evolving struggle.

Two platoons of U.S. Army scouts are in a field deep in the notorious “Triangle of Death” south of Baghdad, a region of countless clashes between Sunni insurgents and Shia militias. The platoons are guided by a local man who’s warned them of pressure-plate improvised explosive devices, designed to explode when stepped on. He has assured them that he knows where the IED’s are, which means he is almost certainly a former Sunni insurgent.

The platoons come under harassing fire. It stops, but later the tension mounts again as they maneuver near an abandoned house known to shelter al-Qaeda fighters. A shot rings out; the scouts take cover. They don’t realize it’s just their local guide, with an itchy trigger finger, taking the potshot at the house. The lieutenant leading the patrol summons three riflemen to cover the abandoned house.

Then all hell breaks loose. One of the riflemen, a sergeant, steps on a pressure-plate IED. The blast badly injures him, the two other riflemen, and the lieutenant. A Navy explosives specialist along on the mission immediately springs into action, using classified gear to comb the area for more bombs. Until he gives the all clear, no one can move, not even to tend the bleeding men. Meanwhile, one of the frozen-inspace scouts notices another IED right next to him and gives a shout, provoking more combing in his area. Then a big area has to be cleared so that the medevac helicopter already on the way can land.

That incident, which took place on 7 November 2007, exhibits many of the hallmarks of the missions in Iraq and Afghanistan – a small patrol; a local man of dubious background; Navy specialists working with soldiers on dry land; and costly technologies pressed into service against cheap and crude weapons. And, most of all, death by IED.