Accountability

2026-02-01 - 22:26

IN the collective consciousness of the Pakistani public, there exists a mystical belief that the world beyond our borders is a pristine sanctuary of integrity. We have long been conditioned to believe that in the West, or in the burgeoning economies of the Far East, honesty is as natural as the air they breathe, while we alone are condemned to wallow in a perpetual quagmire of deceit and moral decay. However, my contention is that every society, regardless of its geography or religion, is divided into three distinct psychological groups. The first is a small minority—the “incorrigible elite”—who are so consumed by avarice that no amount of wealth can satisfy them. If they possessed a valley of gold, they would manipulate the system to acquire a second. The second is an equally small minority of “moral absolutists”—individuals whose integrity is so bedrock-solid that they would choose the dignity of starvation over the comfort of a bribe. Between these two outliers lies the vast majority of any population. These are people who are inherently decent and wish to live honorable lives. However, when the state fails to provide a living wage, they are forced to “wash their hands in the flowing river” of corruption. In this context, honesty is not lost; it is simply a luxury they can no longer afford. The fall of the korean icon: To those who believe that developed nations are inhabited by “better” humans, consider the recent fall from grace of South Korea’s former First Lady, Kim Keon-hee. South Korea is often held up as the gold standard of Confucian ethics and modern discipline. Yet, Kim Keon-hee was recently convicted on bribery charges and sentenced to twenty months in prison. The details of the case are a sobering reminder of the “incorrigible minority.” During her husband’s tenure, his annual salary exceeded $200,000—a handsome amount that places them in comfort range of earners. The First Lady herself was a successful artist, a university lecturer, and a woman of independent means with a net worth of approximately $6 million (roughly 1.6 billion PKR). They lived in presidential palaces and were guaranteed state-funded healthcare for life. Despite this staggering wealth, the allure of personal gain—symbolized in the now-infamous “Dior bag” scandal—proved irresistible. Her conviction proves that for the greedy few, corruption is a psychological ailment, not a survival strategy. The Pakistan paradox: Slogans vs. statistics: For decades, we have been told that corruption is the root cause of our poverty. I argue the opposite: our systemic poverty is the root cause of our corruption. To understand this, we must look at the data rather than the rhetoric. Consider the tenure of the PML-N under Nawaz Sharif. From a narrative standpoint, this era was perhaps the most heavily criticized and defamed in our history regarding financial impropriety. The airwaves were thick with accusations of “mega-corruption.” Yet, an objective look at the Transparency International Corruption Perception Index (CPI) reveals a fascinating paradox. During this period, Pakistan’s CPI ranking actually improved from 140 to 116. Why did a government accused of corruption preside over a “cleaner” perception of the country? The answer lies in the per capita income. During that era, the economy was expanding, and the purchasing power of the common man was rising. When a police officer, a clerk, or a small businessman earns enough to put food on the table and pay his electricity bills, his “need” to solicit a bribe diminishes. In sharp contrast, we saw the rise of the PTI administration, which ascended to power on a fervent, singular anti-corruption platform. The leader’s personal image was marketed as incorruptible. Yet, during this period, Pakistan’s CPI ranking deteriorated, falling to some of its lowest levels in years. As the economy tightened, inflation soared, and per capita income stagnated, the “corruption” felt by the average citizen increased. When people cannot survive on their salaries, they turn to the “flowing river” to bridge the gap. This demonstrates a vital truth that our policymakers refuse to acknowledge: Anti-corruption slogans are no match for economic stability. A hungry man cannot eat a slogan of “Tabdeeli” or “Accountability.” The path forward: Prosperity as a purifier: If we want to clean the “river,” we must first fix the “flow.” We have seen evidence that when basic needs are secured and merit is rewarded, Pakistanis are as honest as any other nationality. Look at the Motorway Police—an institution where salaries were set above the subsistence level and strict systems were implemented. For years, it has remained a rare beacon of integrity in a sea of dysfunction. It isn’t that Motorway Police officers have different DNA; it’s that they have different bank balances and better job security. Our current obsession with “accountability” has become a self-defeating prophecy. By focusing solely on chasing scandals, we have paralyzed the bureaucracy, hounded the business community, and driven domestic and foreign investment out of the country. We are burning the house down to catch a few mice. If we wish to invite foreign trade and restore global confidence, we must pivot our strategy. The state’s primary role should not be that of a grand inquisitor, but that of an economic enabler. We must focus on raising the per capita income and lowering the cost of living. Let us stop harrassing every entrepreneur and civil servant in the name of a “corruption-free” utopia that only exists in speeches. Instead, let us build an economy where a man can be honest and still be fed. Once we have raised the standard of living to a dignified level, then—and only then—should we hold the character of the masses to the ultimate account. Until then, we are merely punishing the poor for a fire that the elite refuse to put out. —The writer is Associate Professor, University of Azad Jammu and Kashmir.