BASEL – This Swiss city borders France’s Alsace region. A 45-minute regular train ride (not the bullet train) takes you to Alsace’s wine capital, the city of Colmar, and its picturesque medieval town.
Going to the Basel train station I took a tram. No one checked if I had a so-called mobility or transport fare ticket – valid within a specified period for all types of mass transportation within the city and surrounding areas including EuroAirport.
From Colmar back to Basel, there was also no inspector to check train tickets. Returning to my hotel on the tram, again no one asked for my mobility ticket.
I thought such trust in the honesty of the riding public would be noticed only by people like me who come from a country where it seems there’s always someone trying to put one over you, where it seems if there’s an opportunity to cheat or get away with breaking the law, the opportunity will be grabbed immediately.
This is a major hurdle for the people in the Philippines tasked to fight criminality. It poses a tough challenge to the agency that’s supposed to be in the forefront of the battle against corruption, from petty graft to top-level plunder: the Office of the Ombudsman.
A government graft-buster once told me that corruption is so deeply ingrained in the bureaucracy (abetted by Pinoy society in general) that the job often required ignoring minor violators and focusing on large-scale cases. Whoever is named Ombudsman has his or her work cut out for him.
The predecessor of soon-to-be ex-Ombudsman Merceditas Gutierrez, Simeon Marcelo, found the pressure of the job so overwhelming he swore it made him physically ill. Sonny Marcelo told me he had trouble sleeping, lost his appetite and suffered from aches and pains whose causes could not be diagnosed. He refused to concede it was just andropause, as his friends often joked. And he would only laugh when teased that because of his resignation, he was to blame for the deterioration of the performance of the Office of the Ombudsman, and therefore for the worsening of corruption in the Philippines.
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Is honesty a cultural thing? Then the predominantly Catholic Philippines, where people are currently caught up in the celebration of the beatification of Pope John Paul II, should have one of the most honest societies in the world.
Yet the virtue seems to be in such short supply that media organizations highlight anyone, such as a cab driver, who finds money and other valuables and returns the items to the rightful owner.
There was a time when some Filipino communities in the United States lamented that US authorities kept finding Philippine coins tossed into toll slots at the entrance to their tollways. The coins were the same size as the US coins required as toll but of much lower value.
In Japan, there was this story about a foreigner (never mind the nationality) in one area that has been turned into a ghost town by the earthquake, tsunami and nuclear disaster. The foreigner was helping himself to goods he needed, taking them from a ruined house. He told a Japanese friend to do the same since supplies were running low, but the Japanese refused, telling the foreigner that disaster or not, if the goods weren’t his, it was still stealing. There have been no reports of looting in the disaster areas in Japan, and it’s not because of radiation fears.
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Are certain cultures inherently more honest than others?
I prefer to think an environment can be created to develop honesty among the populace to such an extent that the virtue is seen by outsiders as part of that nation’s culture.
Even a simple product design innovation can deter wrongdoing. Because people seemed to be bringing home rolls of toilet paper in public lavatories, for example, some new dispensers now make it harder to take an entire roll. In some malls, dispensers have been installed near the wash basins where other people can see if you seem to be taking enough tissue paper for your entire home.
Effective law enforcement is also crucial. Even the most prosperous economies have their share of dishonest people, violent misfits, crooked public officials and organized crime rings. But these societies generally manage to catch the crooks. Equally important, these societies succeed in prosecuting and punishing the crooks even as they are accorded due process.
On my train ride to Alsace an inspector did check tickets. Anyone caught cheating on these trains faces a fine of about 100 euros (approximately P6,340). There’s no kotong; you can’t bribe your way out of it. Anyone caught must suffer the penalty. The inspections are conducted randomly, so people learn quickly enough not to take chances.
There are people who are by nature honest, but there are others who need a nudge in the right direction. An effective criminal justice system discourages wrongdoing and compels honesty. From minor traffic violations to large-scale corruption, this is what we need to work on.
These stories come to mind as I read about the resignation of Gutierrez effective May 6.
On the road to her departure from office, the biggest surprise for me was that the House of Representatives impeached her, and by a decisive vote. After that her resignation no longer seemed farfetched, although there was speculation that she might say, as a parting shot, that she could not expect a fair shake under the watch of a President who has openly declared war on her.
The hiss from the Palace snake pit was that one influential power bloc considered Gutierrez’s impeachment as the ultimate test of President Aquino’s leadership, without which all his reform agenda and even economic development plans would be nothing but hot air.
Now that Gutierrez has finally decided to get the message, P-Noy faces the equally challenging task of picking a good replacement.
Whoever is selected will have one of the toughest jobs in the Philippines.