By Dr. R. Balasubramaniam
Petty corruption is one of those experiences that does not arrive with drama. It slips in quietly, usually at a traffic signal or a government counter and leaves behind a familiar mix of irritation, resignation and reluctant participation. It is almost apologetic in its entry, as though saying sorry for the inconvenience while firmly settling in.
Having spent time as a Special Investigator in the Karnataka Lokayukta and having stood shoulder to shoulder with Team Anna during those intense days of protest, I am still unsure how to describe the feeling it evokes. Anger seems inadequate. Moral outrage feels theatrical. Helplessness comes closest, but even that does not fully capture it, largely because helplessness assumes innocence and that assumption does not always hold.
Our first instinct is to look upwards. The politician and the bureaucrat make for convenient villains and in many cases, they deserve the scrutiny. They are part of the game and often key players. They also happen to be safely distant targets, which makes criticism emotionally satisfying and personally inexpensive.
Yet the uncomfortable question refuses to go away. Are they the only ones playing. Or are we, the ordinary citizens, also participants who prefer not to read the fine print of our own behaviour, especially when the fine print involves waiting, paying or following rules.
Consider the everyday moments that rarely make it to protest placards. A small payment to the local Policeman when caught over-speeding, justified as saving time and avoiding paperwork. The offence is suddenly re-branded as a misunderstanding and the bribe as a service charge. Riding without a helmet because it is inconvenient and negotiating one’s way out when stopped, usually with a smile that suggests mutual understanding rather than mutual accountability. Driving the wrong way on a one-way street because everyone else seems to be doing it and therefore it must be correct or at least socially sanctioned. Slipping past a queue because one knows someone inside, which is politely called networking and never favouritism.
Constructing a little extra beyond zoning laws because the neighbour did the same and the building has not collapsed yet. Declining a bill at the shop because it is cheaper that way and GST feels like an abstract idea best left to economists and television debates. Getting a driving licence without even a road test is seen as necessary because the procedure feels cumbersome and a willing driving school arranges the rest.
None of these actions come with grand speeches. They come with smiles, shrugs and the comforting logic that this is how things work and has always worked and will continue to work if no one insists on rules.
This is where petty corruption shows its real genius. It does not threaten us. It accommodates us. It fits neatly into our schedules and our justifications. It allows us to feel clever rather than dishonest. It reassures us that we are not corrupt, merely practical, efficient and well-adjusted to reality. In the process, it turns integrity into an optional extra, like seat belts that can be ignored on short trips, especially when one is confident of one’s driving skills and even more confident of one’s luck.
Years of investigating corruption has taught me an ironic lesson. Systems do not rot only because of powerful people at the top. They rot because of millions of small compromises at the bottom that slowly travel upward, gaining confidence along the way. Each compromise whispers to the next that rules are flexible and consequences negotiable. When everyone bends the rule a little, the rule quietly loses its authority. What remains is negotiation, discretion and the price of convenience, usually payable in cash and without receipt.
The fight against corruption is often imagined as a battle against others. It is staged in rallies, inquiries and television debates, preferably with raised voices and clear villains. But petty corruption does not retreat in the face of slogans. It listens politely, waits for the crowd to disperse and then resumes business as usual. It retreats only when honesty becomes boringly routine. When paying a fine feels normal rather than heroic. When standing in a queue is not seen as a personal insult to one’s intelligence. When asking for a bill is automatic rather than virtuous.
Perhaps the more sustainable approach is not to see ourselves as warriors against corruption but as practitioners of honesty. This is less dramatic and far more demanding. It requires no enemies, only consistency. If enough of us choose to stay honest in small things, corruption loses its most reliable ally, our willing participation. That may not make for a stirring protest, but it just might make for a society that works.
[Dr. R. Balasubramaniam is the founder of Swami Vivekananda Youth Movement. ‘The Lighter Side’ is a series of satirical articles meant to bring a smile by highlighting the funny side of everyday life.]
This post was published on February 25, 2026 6:05 pm