I think you’ll find corruption no matter where you go in the world, but in some countries, it’s more endemic (or tolerated) than others. In Vietnam, for example, tourists on motorcycles are routinely shaken down (or at least I was) for not having a Vietnamese license. Okay, it’s illegal to ride a motorcycle without a Vietnamese license so you know there’s a risk. But motorcycles are freely rented out to anyone with a drivers license, passport and enough cash and it seems to be only the Western tourists who are pulled over. There is a ‘fine’ to be paid then and there. The police were obviously not impressed with my Marshallese drivers license, which does have a motorcycle endorsement, nor would they accept my international drivers license.
There’s really no point in arguing, you’re in their country, so you’re wrong. At least that’s the way they see it. I just pull out my fake wallet which has my Marshallese drivers license, an expired credit card and 20,000 dong in it and tell them it’s all I have. That’s about 86 cents for those not interested in doing the math. You know you’re going to get fleeced, just smile and enjoy the feeling of fleecing the fleecer. Then I ride down the road, stop, put another 20,000 dong bill in my fake wallet and carefully hide my real wallet.
Corruption. In 2005, I was sent to a 12 week course in Hawaii at the Asian Pacific Center for Security Studies. There were 105 high ranking military and diplomats from Asia and the Pacific studying regional and global security issues and ways to enhance security cooperation. It was an interesting group and some of topics covered were transnational crime, transparency in government, illegal drug production/distribution patterns around the world, human trafficking and reducing corruption, to name but a few. Small groups were given complicated problems to solve and then present the solution to the entire class; ours was to find the best way to curtail opium production in Afghanistan.
Right after the lectures, there were always two individuals who raced to ask the first question, one was Colonel Chris Weiker, Canadian Forces and the other would blow into the microphone to ensure it was on before announcing, “I am Trachean, from Bhutan.” There were a few more who enjoyed hearing the sound of their own voices, but those two ALWAYS had to ask a question. As an introvert or what I feel is a more accurate description - a JOMO (Joy Of Missing Out) see link here: https://www.economist.com/business/2019/01/31/the-two-tribes-of-working-life I was not one of the questioners after lectures. Ever.
Our team was composed of bright, well educated, articulate and talented individuals who were completely capable of presenting our solution. Even though I obviously wasn’t one of the chatty Cathy’s of the course, when time came to discuss who would present our findings, there was no discussion. Every index finger pointed at me, the sole native speaker of the group. As a JOMO’s JOMO, I don’t people particularly well. But I have a switch somewhere inside me that I can turn on and rock a presentation. And I did. When I was finished, a Colonel in the Cambodian Police who I knew fairly well stood up and said, “Your presentation was well thought out, excellent and thorough. But you forgot one thing.” “Yes sir, what is that?” I replied. He said, “Look at my uniform. Look how many pockets it has. Your budget forgot to put something in my pockets.” His uniform did indeed have six pockets. Now that’s some chutzpah. Here was someone attending a US funded course espousing good governance and anti corruption and he was suggesting our plan would fail because we didn’t include bribes as part of our budget.
He was right of course, but I think it still took some courage to say that in front of everyone. I clumsily explained that the US Government does not participate in nor condone bribery as part of their foreign policy outreach. But without the help and support of local officials on the ground, any plan to curtail opium production would be doomed. There’s really only one way to get the help and support of local officials in Afghanistan, and that’s by putting something in their pocket(s).
I’m in Cambodia now, and that Colonel in the Cambodian police I met in Hawaii is now a Lt. General. That’s three stars for those counting. We had dinner last night and then went to one of his families homes.
We had a good chuckle over him calling me out all those years ago because I forgot to include bribes in our budget. We caught up on other colleagues, where they were, what they were doing and talked about the price of real estate in Cambodia and what it takes to buy real estate here. Cambodian citizenship is what it takes. Taiwanese pay $500,000, Chinese $250,000 and then there is a lower cost (and longer process) cut rate price of $70,000 for that passport. We talked about new visa entry requirements for the US under the Trump administration (spoiler alert - it’s a lengthier and more complicated process) and he said that from his perspective, China was ascending in world affairs and America was on the decline. Great discussions and an interesting night.
I have a few more days left in Phnom Penh. While I don’t go into sketchy establishments where you are practically asking for trouble, trouble can still track you down in Phnom Penh. I’ll be on a bicycle the next few days in this crazy city traffic, so it’s reassuring to know I have his card and phone number should anything happen. ‘Cause there’s still just a wee touch of corruption in Cambodia.
Unimpressive, evidently.
Corruption. In 2005, I was sent to a 12 week course in Hawaii at the Asian Pacific Center for Security Studies. There were 105 high ranking military and diplomats from Asia and the Pacific studying regional and global security issues and ways to enhance security cooperation. It was an interesting group and some of topics covered were transnational crime, transparency in government, illegal drug production/distribution patterns around the world, human trafficking and reducing corruption, to name but a few. Small groups were given complicated problems to solve and then present the solution to the entire class; ours was to find the best way to curtail opium production in Afghanistan.
Right after the lectures, there were always two individuals who raced to ask the first question, one was Colonel Chris Weiker, Canadian Forces and the other would blow into the microphone to ensure it was on before announcing, “I am Trachean, from Bhutan.” There were a few more who enjoyed hearing the sound of their own voices, but those two ALWAYS had to ask a question. As an introvert or what I feel is a more accurate description - a JOMO (Joy Of Missing Out) see link here: https://www.economist.com/business/2019/01/31/the-two-tribes-of-working-life I was not one of the questioners after lectures. Ever.
Our team was composed of bright, well educated, articulate and talented individuals who were completely capable of presenting our solution. Even though I obviously wasn’t one of the chatty Cathy’s of the course, when time came to discuss who would present our findings, there was no discussion. Every index finger pointed at me, the sole native speaker of the group. As a JOMO’s JOMO, I don’t people particularly well. But I have a switch somewhere inside me that I can turn on and rock a presentation. And I did. When I was finished, a Colonel in the Cambodian Police who I knew fairly well stood up and said, “Your presentation was well thought out, excellent and thorough. But you forgot one thing.” “Yes sir, what is that?” I replied. He said, “Look at my uniform. Look how many pockets it has. Your budget forgot to put something in my pockets.” His uniform did indeed have six pockets. Now that’s some chutzpah. Here was someone attending a US funded course espousing good governance and anti corruption and he was suggesting our plan would fail because we didn’t include bribes as part of our budget.
He was right of course, but I think it still took some courage to say that in front of everyone. I clumsily explained that the US Government does not participate in nor condone bribery as part of their foreign policy outreach. But without the help and support of local officials on the ground, any plan to curtail opium production would be doomed. There’s really only one way to get the help and support of local officials in Afghanistan, and that’s by putting something in their pocket(s).
I’m in Cambodia now, and that Colonel in the Cambodian police I met in Hawaii is now a Lt. General. That’s three stars for those counting. We had dinner last night and then went to one of his families homes.
Sok Sareth, 16 years later. He still looks the same.
I have a few more days left in Phnom Penh. While I don’t go into sketchy establishments where you are practically asking for trouble, trouble can still track you down in Phnom Penh. I’ll be on a bicycle the next few days in this crazy city traffic, so it’s reassuring to know I have his card and phone number should anything happen. ‘Cause there’s still just a wee touch of corruption in Cambodia.
