Review of Experience
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Also useful are ICAC’s reported figures on patterns of corruption-related prosecutions arising from its investigations. Figures for 1999 are as follows (ICAC 2000):
CPIB is a different story. Other than internal review by the Prime Minister’s Office and the Director, there do not appear to be any formal performance monitoring procedures. However, CPIB publishes efficiency standards that apply to it – the agency undertakes to:
We were not able to obtain actual numbers on the extent to which the above standards were met. Nor could we find output or outcome indicators as in the case of Hong Kong ICAC. Summary and Assessment Despite their similar origins and design, and indeed the success they both seem to have met with in their efforts, ICAC and CPIB take starkly different approaches to the implementation of a single-agency strategy. The former is extremely large, well-resourced, and strongly oriented toward transparency and civic partnership. The latter is a smaller, tighter operation that does not divulge much information, nor does it seek to educate or mobilize the population in the fight against corruption. The consensus view of ICAC is that it has been a stunning success. These areas are usually cited as elements of this success: investigations leading to prosecution and conviction of senior officials and powerful businessmen (“big fish”); changing Hong Kong’s “ethical climate” through example, outreach, and education; and eliciting citizen input in both oversight and reporting of corruption cases. (Klitgaard 1988, Speville 1997) Both the cross-country indices and ICAC’s own performance data (assuming these are properly vetted and verified as part of the reporting process) seem to bear this out. At the same time, there are reasons for doubt about the wider applicability of the Hong Kong ICAC model. One ICAC Commissioner cautioned that “traumatic” levels of corruption, substantial budget resources, the highest possible integrity, and high political and popular support are all necessary conditions for making this kind of organization work. (Klitgaard 1988) Speville (1997) underlines these conditions and says that ICAC itself was not Hong Kong’s strategy. Rather, it happened to be the right tool for Hong Kong to implement a broader strategy of law enforcement, prevention, and public support. Doig and Riley (1998: p.52) refer to ICAC as: Very much a product of a particular social environment and polity – a small “city-state” with a distinctive culture and a highly efficient administrative machine operating in a society characterized by sustained high economic growth. CPIB is also widely known as a success, both within Singapore and internationally. It helped set the moral tone of government, which has created a squeaky-clean administration where there used to be systemic corruption, and has exercised a deterrent function by investigating a number of “big fish.” These include ministers, MPs, and senior directors in government agencies and companies. One observer also suggests that Singapore’s overall strategy, implemented in part by CPIB, is superior to Hong Kong’s because it addresses the incentives for corruption through careful attention to civil servant salary levels – in addition to investigation and prevention (Quah 1999a). However, observers have noted that CPIB has some serious disadvantages, and that (as in Hong Kong) its success depends on circumstances that are unlikely to be repeated elsewhere. First, the arguments about Hong Kong’s special situation as a city-state enjoying cultural consensus and high economic growth also apply to Singapore. Second, CPIB officers have on several occasions been accused of overzealousness, assault, abuse, and torture – as well as bias in the selection of targets. (Quah 1989) A review of anti-corruption efforts for the parliament of Mauritius had this observation (http://ncb.intnet.mu/assembly/sessional/part3.htm): Whatever success which Singapore may have achieved in the fight against corruption, it is not certain that this is a role model to follow. Any agency which earns the reputation (however unfounded and unproven) of using its formidable array of powers against political opponents is not worthy of any further comment other than pure disdain. In short, both agencies have met their original anti-corruption objectives. The divergent paths that they followed in this achievement have had important implications for their resource requirements and for public perceptions of their methods. Clearly, Hong Kong’s emphasis on public outreach and education has its costs – including 8 regional offices, more than 200 staff, and over U.S. $16 million in expenses. The need to elicit cooperation also implies a larger investigative staff. However, even this, together with Hong Kong’s larger population and land mass cannot fully explain why it has nearly 20 times as many investigators as CPIB does. For its part, CPIB’s budget and staff are only a fraction the size of ICAC’s – but this appears to have its own price in terms of public support and the agency’s accountability. In the end, one can only assess the costs and benefits of ICAC and CPIB by comparing them to the alternatives – both variants of the single-agency strategy and multi-agency approaches. To these we now turn. Variations on the Single-Agency Model Over the last two decades, a number of countries have followed the single-agency approach. In some cases, the Hong Kong ICAC model was adopted in full, while in others, a partial or hybrid approach inspired by ICAC and CPIB was taken. This section reviews the experiences of several countries across the globe, emphasizing variations in design and outcomes around the Hong Kong and Singapore precedents. The discussion here does not cover three important examples of this phenomenon, which are the subject of more in-depth case studies in part 4 below. All of the agencies reviewed in this section took some inspiration from the Hong Kong-Singapore paradigm, especially ICAC, although they vary in the extent to which they kept the same design specifications. Three of these examples are most clearly modeled on ICAC: the Independent Commission Against Corruption (ICAC) of New South Wales (NSW) in Australia, the Directorate on Corruption and Economic Crime (DCEC) of Botswana, and the Office of the Inspector General of Government (IGG) of Uganda. The other agencies considered here adapted elements of the Hong Kong and Singapore strategies, following them less rigorously. We will try to shed light on some of the reasons for this. The latter group includes the Korea Independent Commission Against Corruption (KICAC), the National Counter Corruption Commission (NCCC) of Thailand, the Office of the Ombudsman of the Philippines, and the Comision de Control Civico de la Corrupcion (CCCC) of Ecuador. Establishment, Responsibilities and Powers The establishment of the various independent agencies seems to follow the pattern of Hong Kong and Singapore. The NSW ICAC in Australia was established in 1988 after a spate of scandals had led to the imprisonment of a chief minister and a cabinet minister for bribery, the trials of several senior officials, and investigations of the police force. These events led to the advent of a new reformist government, which made the enactment of the Independent Commission Against Corruption Act a priority of its campaign. The Premier in that government was himself later investigated by ICAC, censured by the legislature, and in effect forced to resign. (Williams 2000) Botswana saw a similar eruption in the early 1990s, which threatened to harm its reputation as an African model of good governance. The scandals revolved around illegal land sales and unpaid loans by senior officials from the National Development Bank. Extensive media coverage linked these cases with the cabinet and the President, and stirred public outrage. Moreover, the Botswana Police Force lacked a fraud squad. These factors led to the enactment, in 1994, of the Corruption and Economic Crime Act, establishing DCEC as a permanent agency. (Theobald and Williams 2000) The structure, functions, and powers of these two agencies follow the Hong Kong ICAC blueprint. Both have separate units each charged with implementing part of the same tripartite strategy consisting of investigations, prevention, and public education. The Botswana DCEC has separate branches for prosecutions and training, investigations, and intelligence, along with a combined prevention and education branch and a support branch. The NSW ICAC has units corresponding to the three core functions, plus a supporting Legal Unit. Both have substantial powers to carry out their responsibilities. DCEC’s powers under its Act are broader, including search and seizure, arrest, and detention of travel documents – and all of these can be done without a warrant in a variety of circumstances. DCEC is also given authority to investigate where it suspects someone of “possession of unexplained property.” The NSW ICAC appears to be under more intense judicial scrutiny. For example, judicial approval of search warrants is generally required (with exceptions), and ICAC’s actions affecting anyone’s rights – including its ability to compel cooperation through contempt charges – are expressly under the jurisdiction of the Supreme Court. Neither agency has authority to prosecute (DCEC can do so but only with the Attorney General’s consent), and they both appear to have ample authority to protect the confidentiality of investigations and witnesses. The jurisdiction of the two agencies differs somewhat. The Botswana DCEC seems to follow the Hong Kong model more closely, as the 1994 Act brings private sector activities within the scope of DCEC’s investigation powers. This includes not only bribery but various forms of revenue fraud, a form of white-collar crime that the Hong Kong ICAC does not have authority over (although CPIB could investigate this if it is connected to a corruption offense). Even this broad mandate was further expanded by the Proceeds of Serious Crime Act, 2000. This in effect makes DCEC the lead money-laundering investigator, by criminalizing dealings in illegally acquired assets and requiring the central bank to refer suspicious transactions to DCEC for investigation. By contrast, the NSW ICAC limits itself to corruption offenses by public officials – although its scope was expanded in 1994 to include conduct by Members of Parliament. The two agencies also differ on the matter of selectivity. DCEC has an explicit policy of interpreting its statutory mandate as requiring it to investigate every pursuable report – consistent with the Hong Kong approach. (Langseth 2000) By contrast, the NSW ICAC retains the authority to prioritize complaints – and to refuse any explanations as to why a complaint was not pursued, if ICAC deems this necessary for security and confidentiality purposes. It describes its selection criteria for investigations as follows (NSW ICAC 2001: p.23): Only matters with the potential to expose significant and/or systemic corruption or which otherwise involve matters of significant public interest are selected for such investigation. ICAC has an Assessment Panel that makes the initial determination as to whether a complaint is pursuable, and then refers hard cases (e.g. pursuable complaints that would require substantial resources) to its Operations Management Committee for decision. (NSW ICAC 2001) Similar agencies were also established (or reformed) in Uganda (1987) in the aftermath of the civil war, in the Philippines (1987) after the fall of President Marcos, in Ecuador (1997) following mass protests and the ouster of President Bucaram, in Thailand (1999) and Korea (2001) after the linkage between corruption and the recent financial crisis was recognized. These agencies have essentially been given the responsibilities and powers of an ICAC-type agency, with a few notable differences. The Ugandan IGG and the Thai NCCC additionally have the function of reviewing official asset-declarations. The Ombudsman in the Philippines has the ICAC anti-corruption responsibilities as well as the general function of a classical ombudsman to address injustice and maladministration. Commentators have suggested that the prosecutorial role does not fit well with the ombudsman’s function as trusted mediator. (Pope 1999) In addition, the Ombudsman makes binding determinations of law in administrative cases (the IGG in Uganda has a similar capacity), and brings prosecutions against senior officials in the special anti-corruption court – the Sandiganbayan. (Constitution of 1987, Ombudsman Act of 1989) Last, in the case of the Ecuadorian CCCC, the “prevention” responsibilities are essentially those of mobilizing and educating the public to exercise civic “control” over government – but do not include a true analytical and advisory role toward government as in the classic ICAC model. (www.comisionanticorrupcion.com) Safeguards, Relationships Among the key determinants of an ACA’s effectiveness are structural relationships – including provision for independence, accountability, and cooperation – and adequate resources in terms of finances and trained personnel. Structural relationships are reviewed in this section, resource questions in the next. The NSW ICAC appears much better off than its counterparts in this regard. In formal terms, it is a government corporation with the powers of a standing committee – this seems to separate it from cabinet ministries and links it to parliament. The ICAC Commissioner is appointed by the NSW Governor (to a five-year non-renewable term), with the approval (and veto power) of the Parliamentary Joint Committee on the Independent Commission Against Corruption. The Governor also appoints any Deputies. The NSW ICAC has its own budget line from the NSW legislative appropriation. It reports and is accountable to the Joint Committee – and this accountability, like that of ICAC’s Hong Kong counterpart, clearly establishes its independence from the executive. Like the Hong Kong ICAC, the NSW agency solicits citizen oversight and input, and as in the prior case, a major role is played by an Operations Review Committee whose membership includes private citizens. Also, the Freedom of Information Act applies, imposing a duty on the agency to disclose, and in some cases publish, its records. In addition, the NSW ICAC has a mechanism for handling complaints against its staff. These are directed to the Solicitor to the Commission. The most important departure from the Hong Kong model is the NSW ICAC’s authority to hold investigatory hearings – and to hold them in public where this is appropriate. (NSW ICAC Act 1988, NSW ICAC 2001) This form of “government in the sunshine” gives the general public the ability to oversee parts of ICAC’s operations directly. Other agencies operating in areas that overlap with ICAC’s include the Ombudsman, the Auditor General, and the Police Integrity Commission of NSW. The cooperation among these agencies appears to be quite effective – they have collaborated on some studies of administrative governance in provincial and local government, as part of ICAC’s preventive efforts. Provincial and local government departments are said to be quite cooperative with ICAC, due to the latter’s emphasis on collaboration to resolve identified problems that diminish the departments’ effectiveness. It is also likely that ICAC’s preventive analytical tools and products are viewed as effective and user-friendly. These include “Recos on the Web,” a collection of recommendations with a review of client agencies’ experiences in implementing them; “Corruption Resistance Reviews,” a set of analytical tools for conducting vulnerability assessments and generating solutions; and the “Ethical Culture Survey Kit,” a survey tool designed to help public managers identify and address the challenges of creating a strong culture of integrity in their organizations. (NSW ICAC 2001) NSW ICAC does not have formalized relationships with NGOs or the press, but encourages outside watchdogs through its emphasis on transparency. Botswana’s DCEC does not have structural safeguards and relationships of the kind that seem so important to the NSW ICAC’s performance. Under the 1994 Corruption and Economic Crime Act, the President appoints the DCEC Director at his sole discretion and on terms of his choosing. DCEC is a “public office,” hence it is within the executive chain of command and the civil service system. The President has authority to issue regulations governing DCEC’s operations, and there is no legal provision granting the agency fiscal independence. In addition, DCEC does not have the citizen oversight and transparency mechanisms that the Hong Kong and NSW ICAC agencies have. The 1994 Act simply requires DCEC only to report its “activities” to the President on an annual basis, although the reports also appear on the DCEC website. DCEC does reach out to the public through education programs and advertising, and also elicits complaints through its two field offices and its hotlines. The Botswana DCEC’s relations with other agencies in this field have proven to be a problem. This is especially true of the Attorney General’s office, but also of the courts – both are a source of complaints about backlogs and failures to bring cases to a conclusion. As of the beginning of 2001, DCEC reported 70 cases awaiting the Attorney General’s advice or consent to prosecute, and another 52 cases pending before the courts. (DCEC 2002) The 1994 Act does not address intergovernmental duties of cooperation – it simply requires the AG to consent to any prosecution. Whatever consensus Botswana may have reached concerning strategy has not been sufficient to overcome delays and capacity constraints at these two choke points. DCEC has now responded by suggesting the strengthening of the AG’s office, and by deploying its staff to assist the Attorney General with prosecutions. (Langseth 2000) Some of the problem in the courts may be due to outdated procedural rules that make shortcuts such as plea bargains difficult, and prevent DCEC from legally using available electronic surveillance methods. Also, obtaining information from banks has been a problem for DCEC. This is perhaps explained by inadequate record-keeping in the banks – although this is said to be improving. (Theobald and Williams 2000) In the case of Uganda, the constitution (ch. 13) provides for the formal independence of the IGG. The Inspector General and the Deputy IG are to be appointed by the President with the approval of Parliament to a four-year term (renewable once), and can be removed only for specified causes by consent of the President and a Parliamentary tribunal. One of these officers must be qualified to serve as a High Court Judge. The constitution also provides that the IGG will operate independently and be responsible only to Parliament – and that it makes semi-annual reports to Parliament. Until the 1995 constitution provided for the IGG’s responsibility to Parliament, it was responsible and reported confidentially to the President. (Sedigh and Ruzindana 1999) The constitution also provides for IGG’s budgetary and personnel autonomy (see below). In terms of structural relationships, the IGG is surely helped by the fact that it is charged with enforcing the Leadership Code of Conduct across government, and the Inspector’s role as chair of the National Coordinating Committee overseeing the government’s anti-corruption action plan. (Sedigh and Ruzindana 1999) There was also a new Minister for Ethics and Integrity position created in 1998 to direct government policy on anti-corruption, but this is essentially a minister without a ministry, and may have been a badly planned response to election-year anti-corruption rhetoric. (Watt et al 2000) The Philippines Ombudsman, along with the top deputies, is appointed by the President from among a group (with specified minimum qualifications) nominated by the Judicial and Bar Council. The Ombudsman has a non-renewable term of seven years, along with a separate budget line and guarantees against salary and budget cuts. She/he reports annually to the President and to Congress, and the office’s determinations, both legal and administrative, are subject to judicial review. While it does not have formalized outreach programs, the Ombudsman is intensively covered by the press and by non-government watchdogs. Also, the Ombudsman is one of many organizations in the Philippines with an anti-corruption mandate – including the special anti-graft court mentioned above, the Commission on Audit, the Attorney General, and the Presidential Commission Against Graft and Corruption (PCAGC) – which do not appear to coordinate well. Ecuador’s CCCC4 is headed by a group of seven commissioners, chosen by the President from the various colegios representing the spectrum of civil society, from universities to professionals, the media, business, labor, indigenous people, women, and human rights groups. It was founded under a presidential decree, then entrenched in the 1998 constitution as an independent organ. Its civic constituency in principle gives the CCCC a strong power base independent of government. Also, CCCC submits regular reports to the legislature. However, within government, CCCC’s relationships vary, from its effective coordination with the Comptroller and the Procurement department, to its continuous conflicts with the Attorney General over prosecutions. CCCC has been severely criticized in official circles recently for its investigations into bank fraud – its jurisdiction here is based on its mandate to address corruption and fraud that impact state financial interests, including shareholdings in banks. Thailand’s NCCC also has a commission structure, with the nine commissioners being chosen by the Senate from a list of 18 nominated by top judges, academics, and politicians. The commissioners elect their own Chair. The Senate monitors and receives reports from the NCCC, and the latter cannot prosecute or impose administrative sanctions on its own – although it does assist the Attorney General and the Senate in performing these functions. (www.nccc.thaigov.net) The Korean KICAC is directly under the control of the President. Nevertheless, it is especially hampered in pursuing cases, since it must hand over any matter it deems worthy of a formal investigation to the competent agency such as a prosecutor or the audit agency. This prevents it even from questioning the accused. Apparently, the KICAC statute was written this way as a result of pressure by the Ministry of Justice and other departments concerned about the new agency’s powers.5 Resources Funding and staff are decisive in determining an agency’s ability to perform. The NSW ICAC clearly has the advantage in this area. It employed a staff of 122 in 2001, including 53 in the Investigations Division and 26 in the Corruption Prevention, Education and Research Division. The Commissioner has substantial latitude in hiring staff, and appointments are exempt from both civil service and industrial relations employment regulations. Remuneration packages appear to be on a par with other government agencies, with the Commissioner earning some U.S. $198,000, equivalent to 160% of the compensation of a trial judge, and the Deputy Commissioner earns about U.S. $94,250. Training is also given some priority – ICAC has recently decided to focus more on IT and investigative training. NSW ICAC’s net expenses were U.S. $8.6 million in fiscal year 2000-1, and are budgeted at U.S. $8.8 million for 2001-2. Personnel comprises approximately two-thirds of the operating budget (64% in 2000-1, 67% in 2001-2). The ICAC budget comes via an appropriation from the NSW Government’s Consolidated Fund – i.e. a separate budget line. Botswana’s DCEC has a staff of similar size to NSW ICAC, but a budget of less than one-quarter of ICAC’s. DCEC’s staff complement is 130 (up from 100 in 1998), of which 86 are classified as professional. Actual strength as of early 2001 was 116. DCEC intended to increase its complement to 155 in 2001 as a result of its larger mandate (including money laundering). The staff are within the public service system, hence paid accordingly. Their package includes free housing, or an allowance amounting to 15% of salary. While training is considered important, DCEC reports that budget constraints meant that only 15 members of staff were able to receive training during 2000. The total budget for DCEC in 2000 was approximately U.S. $1.8 million (a detailed breakdown was not available). By comparison to the NSW ICAC, this seems to show primarily a budgetary shortfall (even assuming much lower salaries in dollar terms) – but DCEC’s reports mainly emphasize a manpower shortage leading to excessively high caseloads for investigators (an average of 13 per investigator). (DCEC 2002) It is probably true that, despite the staff numbers, the availability of appropriately skilled professionals is constrained, and it is for this reason that DCEC continues to employ several expatriates in the upper ranks. (Theobald and Williams 2000) In the case of the Ugandan IGG, the constitution (Art. 229) calls for “an independent budget appropriated by Parliament, and controlled by the Inspectorate,” and requires government to facilitate the IGG’s access to sufficient qualified staff to perform its functions effectively. The IGG’s budgetary provision for FY 2002-3 was reported in the press to be U.S. $3.36 million, although this fell short of what was requested. In particular, the Office of the IGG has complained about the low salaries paid to front-line investigators, which amount to little more than U.S. $100 per month.6 The Inspector General has a staff of some 145, of whom 73 are technical or professional staff spread across six units, the majority in Finance and Administration (39), Operations (21) and Legal Affairs (19). (www.igg.go.ug) In comparison, the adjusted 2001 budget for the Philippines Ombudsman was U.S. $8.9 million in total, with the operating budget comprising U.S. $7.3 million of that (figures from the Philippines Budget Management Department). The Ecuadorian CCCC has a 2002 budget of U.S. $3.6 million, and it also receives funds from donor agencies for special projects. It has a staff of 42 in the Quito headquarters, and 12 in its Guayaquil branch office. Thailand’s NCCC employed some 370 officials in 2001 (slated to increase to 537 in 2002), along with 55 temporary employees -- distributed across four divisions and 11 bureaus. Performance Monitoring The NSW ICAC is required by law to report to the NSW parliament on the fulfillment of its mandate, including the numbers of investigations, their outcomes, etc. More specific performance indicators apparently have been developed in cooperation with the Joint Parliamentary Committee, the Office of the Auditor General, and the Ombudsman. For 2000-1, ICAC reported receiving 1509 complaints with a total of 2058 allegations. Among these allegations, the following categories of offenses figured prominently: misuse of public resources (17.5% of allegations), favoritism (13%), and forgery/fabrication of information (10.3%). Failure to report conflicts of interest accounted for 7.7% of allegations and bribery 5.9%. In terms of sectoral area, 12.8% of allegations dealt with zoning or building permits, 10.1% with procurement, 9.6% public services, and 8.5% law enforcement. ICAC reported on ten public hearings, ten prosecutions, and ten disciplinary proceedings arising from its investigations during 2000-1 (although this is not stated to be the total number). The agency also reported that, as of mid-2001, 56% of the recommendations in its reports on prevention and reform had been fully implemented, while 28% had been partly implemented. (NSW ICAC 2001) DCEC publishes a variety of performance data in its annual report. These include, for 2000 (DCEC 2002):
DCEC also listed a number of analytical reports on government structures, but did not give figures for the extent to which any of these were implemented. Perhaps most striking in the comparison between the NSW ICAC and the Botswana DCEC is the following group of facts. During an overlapping 12-month period, the two agencies employed almost the same number of staff and received almost the same number of complaints. Yet DCEC’s budget was some 20-25% of ICAC’s, and DCEC pursued a far larger number of investigations and prosecutions. This seems to have overburdened a staff that is probably not nearly as well-equipped, and evidently not nearly as well-trained, as their Australian counterparts. What were the results? The answer to this is not entirely clear, but there are some indications that ICAC has much more credibility than DCEC with both the public and the government. ICAC launched far fewer investigations and proceedings by design – it intended to focus its resources strategically. The record suggests several carefully-considered public hearings, analytical reports, and recommendations – with a high percentage of uptake by government clients. These activities appear even more focused if one recalls ICAC’s more limited jurisdiction, which does not include the economic crimes that DCEC deals with. While ICAC did not estimate amounts of money saved as a result of its investigations and reform recommendations, its selection procedures suggest the potential for high benefit/cost. DCEC, by contrast, did not report the outcomes of its studies, and the paltry record of monetary awards (ordered but not necessarily collected) speaks for itself. The other ACAs vary in their efforts to report results. Uganda’s IGG reports to Parliament every six months, although these reports are not made public. For the period July 1997 to April 1998, IGG is reported to have received 1,428 complaints, of which 7% were fully investigated and 29% referred to other government departments. Regarding asset declarations under the Leadership Code of Conduct, a high rate of non-return has been reported. (Watt et al 2000) IGG investigations are reported to have resulted in the dismissal of several officials, the removal from office of some political leaders, and the initiative in the mid-1990s to eliminate most “ghost” workers from the public payroll. (Sedigh and Ruzindana 1999) However, the assessment of the IGG’s overall impact on corruption in Uganda is much more sobering (Watt et al 2000: p.46): …[T]here has been little success in terms of reduced levels of corruption and improved service delivery. In fact, there is little evidence that any reduction in the level of corruption has been achieved at all. The Philippines Ombudsman reports comprehensive figures for its activities. The Annual Report for 2000 (Office of the Ombudsman 2001) includes the following:
The performance of the Philippines in cross-national corruption indices casts some doubt on the meaning of the reported numbers. Indeed, despite having set up some 13 anti-graft agencies since the 1950s, the Philippines is still plagued by corruption. The current head of the PCAGC stated in 1997 that “the system is not working” (Quah 1999a: p. 82) In comparison, the CCCC of Ecuador reported receiving 512 complaints between August 1998 and November 1999, of which it completed its investigation of some 322. Of the latter group, 79 were referred for legal or administrative action. (CCCC 2000) By the end of its first quarter of operation, the KICAC in Korea had received some 800 complaints.7 Both the Korean and Thai ACAs have already been criticized as “paper tigers,” and the former also for being a creature of the President. Summary and Assessment In a sense, with the NSW ICAC and the Botswana DCEC, we have not gone far from the city-state context of Hong Kong and Singapore. It is important to note that no ICAC equivalent exists at the national level in Australia, surely for the same reasons it does not exist in any other industrial democracy. New South Wales, though it encompasses much more territory than Hong Kong, has a similar population level (6.5 million), with the majority primarily living in urban settings. Botswana is large and rural, but has a population of only about 1.5 million. The other agencies just reviewed exist in a range of contexts that bear little resemblance to Hong Kong, Singapore, New South Wales, or Botswana in terms of population – and which differ substantially among themselves in terms of the political and legal setting. The Ugandan IGG and Philippines Ombudsman appear to be the most robust and credible on paper, but both of them have confronted daunting challenges in the form of widespread and entrenched corruption. Both of them have operated independently, and in doing so have brought cases against senior officials – without actually succeeding in frying any “big fish.” Ecuador has gone farthest in bringing civil society into the anti-corruption effort, setting up a modest agency under a board of non-governmental commissioners. Its main priority is civic participation rather than investigation and deterrence, hence the case numbers are low in comparison to other agencies. Thailand and Korea have quite recently revamped their ACAs, along different lines. It is perhaps too early to expect dramatic results, but this has not stopped observers from expressing frustration at the slow pace. One further point is worth making with respect to the single-agency approach. The definition of an ACA’s jurisdiction requires an important strategic decision. The ICAC and CPIB models establish jurisdiction over a set of core corruption offenses involving the abuse of public authority, but then also create a penumbra of expanded jurisdiction over other corruption-related offenses, including activities of the private sector. The Botswana DCEC expands this further by including some white-collar crimes, mainly revenue fraud. In most systems, the latter are hived off and put under the authority of a Serious Frauds Office or other unit dealing with revenue fraud or white-collar crime. Also, Singapore’s CPIB has authority to investigate any crime that comes to light in its corruption investigations – a power that most such agencies do not have. The issue here is one of synergy or economy – i.e. what activities are most efficiently and effectively dealt with together? In relatively small jurisdictions such as Hong Kong, Singapore, and Botswana, the natural tendency would be to group several kinds of offenses together under one investigating body. The risk, of course, is that this augmented power might be misused. |