By Napoleon S Mawphniang
I have spent many years navigating this murky terrain in my capacity as an RTI activist, humanist, and, as Eudardo Galeano put it, “the nobodies – Los Nadies.” My goal has been to uncover the deep-seated corruption within our government by peeling back its many layers of dishonesty. A rallying cry for our beloved state, this goes beyond just an exposé.
An Illusory sign of advancement
The Meghalaya government has mastered illusions to an extent that rivals that of the greatest prestidigitators of bygone eras. A press release is like one of our many streams; it announces a new plan, an initiative, or a promise of development. The Chief Minister, who is also our state’s Pied Piper, travels the land spinning yarns of optimism with his silky words through his “CM Connect” projects. These illusions of advancement, like the shimmering mirages that float on sunny highways, fade away when one looks more closely. The ancient Romans used bread and circuses to distract the people from the republic’s collapse, and this spectacular show is eerily similar. Even though there is a whirlwind of activity in Meghalaya, many people are still going hungry.
What avarice is made of
I have viewed the corruption of our state from the perspective of RTI and, as Eudardo Galeano put it again, ” the nobodies – Los Nadies,” revealing a network of graft that would make the most notorious criminal syndicates blush with envy. The noble intentions of central government initiatives that are conceived in the halls of Delhi are transformed into vehicles of enrichment for the powerful upon their arrival on our soil.
A cruel irony transpires in the Soil Conservation Department. The programs that were intended to cultivate our land instead enrich the bank accounts of the affluent. The list of beneficiaries is reminiscent of a who’s who of Meghalaya’s power brokers, including high-ranking officials, politicians, and their network of associates. This pattern is consistent across disciplines, including Fisheries and Public Health Engineering, with the precision of a clock.
This system is strikingly similar to the “prebendalism” that is commonly observed in certain African countries, in which public offices are regarded as personal fiefdoms and exploited for private gain. This feudal governance approach has been elevated to a fine art in Meghalaya, where public resources are regarded as personal treasure troves.
A malicious machine
The mechanisms of this corrupt apparatus are both intricate and insidious. The Public Health Engineering (PHE) and Public Works Department (PWD) payrolls are populated by ghost workers, who are akin to spectres that haunt the corridors of bureaucracy. The public treasuries are estimated to be drained of an estimated 520 crore rupees annually by these phantoms, which have a more tangible economic impact than any supernatural entity.
Umsning and Mawphhlang are the nepotistic nightmare that would cause even the most brazen dynasts of history to blush, as these spirits assume corporeal form as the offsprings and relatives of political leaders and officers. This is reminiscent of the “war-lordism” that is observed in failed states, where local power brokers establish personal fiefdoms within the framework of government institutions.
Charade of meritocracy
The corrupting influence of corruption has even infiltrated the institutions that were intended to protect fairness and competence. The Meghalaya Public Service Commission and District Selection Committees, which were previously intended to serve as protectors of meritocracy, have transformed into bazaars where positions are traded and sold. Formal applications and interviews are rendered mere theatre by the exchange of cash, and jobs are promised with a wink and a gesture. This degradation of merit-based selection is comparable to the “spoils system” that afflicted 19th-century American politics, but it has been refined to an extent that would impress even the most cynical Tammany Hall supervisor.
Belief in implementation miracles
The implementation of central government initiatives in Meghalaya are frequently as substantial as a shadow, despite the fanfare that accompanies their arrival. Despite the fact that funds are disbursed like water through a sieve, reports are filed that claim Herculean achievements, yet the landscape remains resolutely unchanged on the ground. These “blind bills” and inflated invoices have become the standard operating procedure, a sleight of hand that would impress the most accomplished illusionists. It is reminiscent of the “Potemkin villages” that were built to deceive Catherine the Great, with their intricate facades concealing a lack of substance.
Intimidation’s weapons of choice
The apparatus of corruption is revealed in its more sinister gears when intrepid citizens dare to pierce this veil of deception through RTI applications. Threats are hissed from shadowy corners, bribes are dangled like poisoned fruit, and information leaks from presumably secure offices with suspicious alacrity. This weaponization of power against those who seek transparency is reminiscent of authoritarian regimes that have existed throughout history. Despite the fact that Meghalaya may appear to be a democracy, those who venture to challenge the status quo are swiftly met with the iron hand of oppression.
Corrupt practices and their bitter fruits
The repercussions of this systemic decay are as distressing as they are striking. The majority of Meghalayans are struggling against a rising tide of poverty, unemployment, and inadequate public services, while a select cadre grows fat on the spoils of malfeasance. The development of our state is impeded by the very institutions that are intended to advance it. This lamentable disparity is reminiscent of the “Dutch disease” that is observed in resource-rich nations, where the exploitation of one sector results in broader economic stagnation. The resources being exploited in Meghalaya are not hydro-carbons or minerals; rather, it is the very lifeblood of public trust and funds.
The stronghold of notoriety
In my personal experiences – a wall of silence and intimidation that would astound the builders of mediaeval fortresses is encountered when attempts to seek redress through official channels are made. Complaints submitted to the Chief Minister or Chief Vigilance Commissioner of our state are lost in a bureaucratic black abyss. The police, who are intended to serve as the protectors of justice, instead function as gatekeepers, which discourages the filing of FIRs against the influential.
The Central Bureau of Investigation, a renowned institution, is rendered ineffective by the state’s refusal to authorise investigations. This system of impunity is reminiscent of the “iron triangles” that are seen in political science, in which government agencies, interest groups, and legislative committees form an impenetrable barrier against reform.
Who reveals virtue?
The manner in which ill-gotten gains are laundered through acts of public philanthropy is perhaps the most vexing aspect of this corrupt ecosystem. The funds that are stolen from public treasuries are used to purchase respectability and influence by government officials who transform into prominent donors to Balang Khristan ( Christian Churches). This practice is reminiscent of the strategies employed by 19th-century robber oligarchs, who employed charitable donations as a method of reputation laundering. In Meghalaya, the already Byzantine system of bribery is further complicated by the unholy alliance between corruption and public virtue.
A transformational crisis
The situation in Meghalaya may appear to be as immovable as our ancient monoliths; however, history has demonstrated that even the most deeply rooted systems can be disrupted. The Progressive Era reforms that swept across America in the early 20th century serve as a beacon of optimism, demonstrating how determined citizens can break the back of political machines and usher in an era of greater transparency.
Not merely reform is required in Meghalaya at this time; rather, a revolution of consciousness is required. We need a coalition of the willing, including citizens, reform-minded politicians, and honest officials, who are prepared to challenge the status quo with the same ferocity as our monsoon rainfall. The way ahead is dangerous, but straight. Initially, it is imperative that we persist in our efforts to shed light on the shadowy underbelly of corruption by means of unwavering RTI activism and investigative journalism. Similar to the bio-luminescent creatures that illuminate our world-renowned living root bridges, we need to shine a light when others see only darkness.
Second, we need to demand a new set of rules that truly combat corruption and give watchdog organisations the power they deserve. The accomplishments of Hong Kong’s Independent Commission Against Corruption serve as a testament to the potential of political will and public support.
And lastly but certainly not least, we need to spark a cultural revolution that denounces corruption as an acceptable lifestyle. This will necessitate a grassroots movement of education and organisation, which will facilitate the development of ethical leadership from the village level to the highest echelons of government. There are many hazards and a long road ahead of us. There will be resistance from those who stand to gain from the status quo. Nevertheless, the level of risk is unprecedented. We are talking about the fate of Meghalaya, the basic essence of the state.
Being at this juncture forces us to ask: Were we to let our state wilt like a plant without sunlight? Would we persist in corrupt practices and remain stagnant? Conversely, will we have the guts to plot a different course, one that results in openness, responsibility, and actual advancement?
(The writer is Advocate , Trade Unionist and Humanist)