In my last blog, I was standing in front of an African police officer and refusing to bribe him. Readers wondered how it worked out, so here's the full story.
I naively waited for an explanation of the charges the first few times I was stopped. Nothing was ever said. Long awkward silences. Then they'd wave me off with a hand.
That's how I discovered they'll just give up if you're not too quick to brandish cash. You can help fight corruption by investing a little bit of time. If you're not easy prey they eventually move on. Your time is valuable, but the opportunity to help build system integrity is even more valuable.
Truth be told, I bribed once. I was driving a friend's car rather than my motorbike, so the stakes were higher. Friends had just given me the "everybody does it" speech, so I was primed with the thought of contributing to the police officer's personal charity. When I was stopped, I did the most uncool thing imaginable- I rolled the window down half an inch and fed a small bill through it. I was shaking while I did it. This is ridiculous, I thought, and never did it again.
An even higher-stakes encounter confirmed my naive strategy. Mexicana Airlines once refused to check in myself and my daughter because I did not have notarized permission from her Dad to take her out of the country. It was six AM and we had flown through the night from California to Miami to board an 8 AM flight to the Yucatan. My husband had chosen not to join this pyramid-climbing expedition.
I am not blaming the airline- this rule protects children. No one informed me of the rule when I bought my ticket, but if every rule could be evaded by saying "nobody told me" chaos would rein. Where did that leave me?
"There's only one thing you can do," said the ticket agent. "Write a letter saying you're divorced and have full custody, and get it notarized."
"Where would I find a notary at this hour?"
"I think there's one in the basement...Jose, please escort these ladies down there."
I wandered around the basement of the Miami airport with a little girl who hadn't slept all night and a Mexicana employee with sweaty palms. We walked and walked, but no hint of a notary was to be found. Are you surprised?
At 7:50, Jose said something into his walkie-talkie. Then he looked at me and said "Run to the gate."
"What?"
"They're holding the gate for you. The flight's about to leave. Run."
Why the sudden change? Obviously, they were expecting a bribe, and when they saw I would let that flight leave before I would grease them there was no point in keeping me. They may have taken pity on my daughter for having such a clueless mother.
Would I have had the courage to keep my wallet shut if I had known what was going on? All I can say is that ignoring corruption works for me. Instead of focusing on who to pay to break the rules, I expect others to be as law-abiding as I am, and trust in the law to resolve problems if they arise. It's not perfect, but it's far better than feeding corrupt expectations.
Many people reach the opposite conclusion. They even pride themselves on their ability to manipulate the system. But they live with the burden of knowing they are part of the problem.
...I have a confession to make here...
I burst out crying in front of an African policeman once. I was alone on a dark road and my motorbike's headlamp just burned out. I was 23 years old and scared.
He may have been more scared than me when I started crying, for he quickly waved me off.
This incident popped into my mind when I was planning the lecture for my MBA International Business class. I had to prepare my students to refuse payoff requests because kickbacks trigger serious penalties under the US Foreign Corrupt Practices Act. I couldn't tell my students to cry. I needed to offer a systematic response, and that's how I came to write Greaseless: How to Thrive without Bribes in Developing Countries.
Perhaps you feel like crying for the African police and the Mexicana ticket agents? I hear that response a lot. Perhaps you've imagined they needed my bribe to buy medicine to keep their child alive one more night. I ask you to imagine instead what life would be like if every employee of every organization could use their position to benefit the highest bidder, with no accountability. My next post will paint a more detailed picture of such law-of-the-jungle thinking. Perhaps you tell yourself we little guys are entitled to cheat because the Fat Cats are already cheating. My last post, When Everyone Jumps Off the Brooklyn Bridge, explores this imagined "right to cheat."
