Corruption is the only industry that never sees a strike, the only harvest that never fails, the only work done with brutal honesty,Dr. Fiaz Maqbool Fazili
Dr. Fiaz Maqbool Fazili
Corruption seems to be the only work done with sincerity in the so-called Valley of Paradise,” Dr. Ahmad, (name changed )a disheartened friend of mine remarked a few years before bidding farewell to his homeland. His parting words — born of real encounters — continue to echo in my mind, not as an accusation, but as a sorrowful reflection on a place where conscience has withered and honesty lingers only in memory, as he spoke of how things truly function here. While recounting his experience of how things are. “The man at the counter in a hospital didn’t ask for cash”. He simply sighed; “The MRI machine is overbooked for two months.” He held the silence, his gaze steady”. Ahmed understood.” Later, in the parking lot, an envelope changed hands. The next morning, a sudden “cancellation” freed a slot. The transaction was wordless, efficient, and honest. The service was rendered exactly as purchased, a stark contrast to the public system’s failed promises.”
The Birth certificate scenario: Prof .Khan( name changed) visited office recently, she continued that same lament, corruption seems to be the only work done with sincerity…noting with quiet despair that little had changed. Her reflection carried no anger, only sorrow — a weary acknowledgment of a valley where decay has become familiar, and where moral clarity flickers faintly amid the fog of complacency. “The clerk at the office slid the application back across the counter. “There is a backlog. It may take six weeks,” he said, his finger tapping the form meaningfully. Prof Khans husband returned to office the next day with a folded note tucked inside his file. The “backlog” vanished. The certificate was stamped and handed over in ten minutes. It was a simple, honest transaction: a problem was created and sold its solution
In the hushed corridors of power and the bustling markets of our beloved Valley, a dark joke (true or concocted) circulates, spoken with a wink and a weary sigh: “Corruption is the only industry that never sees a strike, the only harvest that never fails, the only work done with brutal honesty.” This is not merely a cynical quip; it is a damning diagnosis of a systemic illness that has become the region’s perverse lifeblood. In a land blessed with breathtaking beauty and a resilient spirit, a parallel economy of graft has been institutionalized with an efficiency that shames all official enterprises. It is the one system that works with predictable, transparent, and relentless diligence.
To understand this claim, one must first redefine “honesty.” In its conventional sense, it implies truthfulness and integrity. But in the twisted logic of the Valley’s decay, the “honesty” of corruption lies in its unwavering consistency. There are no false promises here. The rules of the game are clear to every player. The bureaucrat who demands cut(Hadiyah, Baksheesh,Gift,MehnatAna,)does so without pretence. The contractor who bills for ghost projects delivers on his/ her silent promise of a kickback with punctuality. The official who sells a job vacancy does not lie about the price. This is a transaction stripped of hypocrisy—a brutal, honest exchange of power for money, with a guaranteed outcome. In a society where official justice is delayed, public services are broken, and political promises are written on water, the corruption bazaar operates with the reliability of a Swiss watch.
The tentacles of this “honest work” touch every facet of life, from the cradle to the grave. It begins at birth, with parents paying a premium for a birth certificate without delays. It follows a child through their education, where admission to a decent school requires a “donation,” and passing exams might necessitate “tuition” for the examiner. The young graduate discovers that a coveted government job, often seen as the only secure employment, has a clear, if unofficial, price tag. The businessman must pay to get a license, to avoid an inspection, to secure a contract. The sick must often grease palms to ensure a doctor’s attentive care or a timely surgery. Even in death, the final rites can be expedited with a small consideration to the relevant official.
This ecosystem thrives because it has been meticulously structured. It is not anarchy; it is a well-governed shadow state with its own hierarchies, fixed rates, and dispute-resolution mechanisms. The price for transferring a teacher is known. The percentage on a public works contract is standardised. This very predictability is what makes it a functioning, albeit immoral, system. It provides a perverse form of certainty in an otherwise uncertain environment. People are willing to pay because they know they will get what they paid for—a outcome that the legitimate state has failed to guarantee.
The most devastating casualty of this normalisation is the collective psyche. A deep-seated moral fatigue has set in. The initial outrage has given way to a grim acceptance. The young, who should be the vanguard of change, are being groomed into this system. They learn that merit is a myth and that connections and cash are the real currencies of success. This erodes ambition, stifles innovation, and fosters a culture of cynical opportunism. Why strive to build a business when a well-placed bribe can secure a monopoly? Why excel in studies when a position can be purchased? The “Valley of Paradise” is thus not just losing its economic potential; it is losing its soul, one honest transaction in a dishonest system at a time.
Furthermore, this culture creates a perverse solidarity among the corrupt. They are bound by a shared secret, a complicity that is stronger than any professional or social bond. They trust each other to uphold the rules of their shadow game, even as they publicly decry the very corruption they practice. This network protects its own, punishing whistleblowers with a ferocity that the legal system reserves for the innocent. In this world, the truly “dishonest” person is the one who refuses to play the game—the officer who will not take a bribe is seen as a threat, an unpredictable element disrupting a stable, if vile, ecosystem.
Contrast this with the “dishonest” work of the legitimate world. The politician who promises development and delivers only speeches. The official who files a report he knows is manipulated. The contractor who uses substandard materials in a bridge, betraying the very contract he signed. These are acts of deception. The corruption we speak of, for all its evil, is an honest deception. It does not pretend to be anything other than what it is—a transaction that bypasses the rules. The real betrayal is by those institutions—the judiciary, the anti-corruption bodies, the media—that are designed to check this malaise but have, in many cases, timely justice when dealyed by it are rendered impotent. Their inaction is then greatest dishonesty of all.
The solution, therefore, cannot be a simple moral appeal. When a system is this immoral, preaching ethics is like offering a band-aid for cancer. The fight must be systemic and relentless. It requires a three-pronged attack: first, the demonstrable and severe punishment of the high and mighty, to shatter the myth of their impunity. Second, the radical simplification of rules and transparency in administration, using technology to remove human discretion from citizen-state interfaces. Why should meeting an officer be a privilege? Why can’t applications for licenses, certificates, and services be online, trackable, and rule-based? Third, and most crucially, is the cultivation of a new social conscience that celebrates integrity and shames the corrupt, not just in public life but in everyday interactions.
The Valley of Paradise stands at a precipice. Its beauty is being devoured by a moral blight that operates with chilling efficiency. To reclaim its future, it must first acknowledge the grim reality that its most robust industry is its greatest shame. The “honest work” of corruption must be exposed for what it is: not a clever survival strategy, but a slow-acting poison, a self-inflicted wound that is bleeding the Valley dry. The path to healing begins when the people decide that the cost of this “honesty” is a paradise lost forever, and that the struggle for a truly honest society, though long and arduous, is the only work worth doing.
Author is a medical doctor and social commentator who writes columns highlighting social wrongs and public concerns. He can be reached at drfiazfazili@gmail.com
