IN A viral YouTube clip, a young boy was asked why Bangladesh cannot recover from economic crisis if Sri Lanka, after bankruptcy, managed to rebound. His response was disarmingly sharp: ‘Sri Lanka’s government was corrupt, but its citizens were decent people. That is why the country managed to recover.’ He then added with brutal candour: ‘In Bangladesh, the government are looters and the people are thieves. That is why Bangladesh cannot recover.’
Corruption in Bangladesh has become so pervasive that it is nearly routine in political and bureaucratic life. From inflated project costs to bribery in basic services, toll extortion and manipulation of public contracts, corruption seeps into every layer of governance. Prisons cannot hold all offenders, and even when convicted, many politicians and officials retain illicit wealth and influence. This persistent cycle raises a pressing question: how can corruption be deterred when traditional punishments fail? One answer is public shaming — a strategy potentially more effective than fines or prison, because these officials are often utterly shameless even in private.
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Why public shaming works
PUBLIC shaming strikes where it hurts most: reputation and dignity. In societies like Bangladesh, social standing carries immense weight; the loss of honour can wound more deeply than temporary incarceration. A politician may tolerate prison, confident that wealth and loyal networks await him afterward. But the humiliation of being publicly exposed — stripped of prestige and branded as a symbol of disgrace — leaves a scar no release date can erase.
The shame ripples outward, burdening family, relatives and friends with dishonour. This social effect delivers a deterrent that prison time cannot match, and it weighs equally on corrupt officials at every level.
Shaming must not be mistaken for cruelty. It is not about violence, mutilation or degrading someone beyond recognition. Rather, it imposes visible consequences society cannot ignore. In Bangladesh, convicted officials could be brought before the public in stadiums, facing those whose trust and resources they betrayed. Symbolically stripping them of traditional tokens of prestige dismantles their aura of power and signals that betrayal severs one’s claim to communal respect. Public exposure ensures that corruption no longer thrives in secrecy, reinforcing social norms in real time.
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Lessons from other countries
PUBLIC shaming is not new. Around the world, societies have used reputational punishment to deter wrongdoing. In China, corrupt officials are displayed on state media, with crimes and confiscated assets broadcast nationwide. Indonesia publicises names of convicted officials and permanently bans them from politics. In the United States, the Securities and Exchange Commission routinely publishes names and details of fraudsters; reputational stains often end careers even after prison. India has used ‘name-and-shame’ tactics to publicise corrupt officials and tax evaders, reducing repeat offenses.
Historically, medieval Europe employed stocks and pillories, displaying wrongdoers in public squares. While primitive, the principle persists: corruption thrives in darkness but withers under exposure.
In South and East Asia, family honour is deeply tied to individual conduct. A single act of disgrace can tarnish an entire lineage. Similarly, in South Asia, social standing within extended families and villages is often as valuable as wealth itself. Public shaming of corrupt politicians humiliates individuals and imposes stigma on family networks, delivering intergenerational deterrence that prison walls cannot provide. Beyond family, public disgrace signals to communities that betrayal of trust is intolerable, creating a culture where corruption is socially toxic.
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Religious nuances and the limits of divine mercy
RELIGIOUS beliefs about forgiveness can inadvertently reduce the perceived risk of corruption. Many traditions hold that if surviving children perform rituals on behalf of deceased parents, God will forgive sins. In Islam, performing Umrah or Hajj is believed to cleanse even grave sins. This perceived leniency may indirectly encourage graft seekers to act corruptly.
But what if a corrupt official dies childless? Without intercessory prayers, the perceived likelihood of divine forgiveness diminishes. Public shaming, in contrast, operates visibly in society and cannot be erased by rituals. It confronts individuals with unavoidable consequences in the social realm.
Islamic law unequivocally condemns corruption, but structured public shaming or corporal punishment such as lashing is not universally prescribed. Some local jurisdictions may adopt such measures, but broader jurisprudence emphasises shame before Allah, genuine remorse, and restitution of unlawfully acquired assets. Formal humiliation and corporal punishment can complement moral reform and social accountability, while public shaming reinforces ethical behaviour with tangible societal consequences.
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The limits of prisons
BANGLADESH could never build enough prisons to house all potential corruption convicts. Worse, incarceration often fails to dismantle corrupt networks. Convicted politicians may leave prison with wealth intact, re-enter politics, or regain public office, exposing the futility of imprisonment when corruption is normalised.
Becoming corrupt is as effortless as slipping downhill; becoming uncorrupt is almost unheard of. Like virginity, once lost, it cannot be restored. Public shaming, incarceration, and corporal punishment do not cleanse the soul of corruption nor fully repair fractured reputations. Yet they serve as visible deterrents: those who have not yet fallen witness the consequences, observing how a maligned name reverberates through society like a bell struck off-key. Televised confessions, news broadcasts and media exposure can etch disgrace into public memory with greater reach than public parades. Shaming creates a social ledger: each dishonoured act becomes a public lesson for future generations.
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The laws of corruption
CORRUPTION can be understood metaphorically through Isac Newton’s three laws of laws motion:
Inertia (Newton): An object in motion stays in motion unless acted upon.
Inertia (Corruption): Once corruption sets in, it continues until accountability intervenes.
Acceleration (Newton): Force = mass × acceleration.
Acceleration (Corruption): Corruption grows as rewards rise and institutional strength declines.
Action-Reaction (Newton): Every action elicits an equal and opposite reaction.
Resistance (Corruption): Every anti-corruption reform meets pushback from beneficiaries.
These metaphorical ‘laws’ help explain why corruption not only spreads but also resists reversal. Traditional remedies, such as imprisonment, often prove inadequate because they lack the disruptive energy needed to break corruption’s inertia. Public shaming, however, can generate that energy — mobilising social pressure in ways legal penalties alone rarely achieve. Whereas Newton’s laws are universal and irreversible, inertia of corruption are behavioural and endures only because rulers and institutions conveniently allow it to persist by failing to enforce existing rules and regulations.
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Toward a culture of accountability
FOR public shaming to succeed, it must be codified and institutionalised. Legal provisions could mandate the publication of names, crimes and recovered assets. Televised acknowledgments of wrongdoing should be compulsory. Social disqualification from official, cultural or entertainment events could reinforce exile from public life. Permanent bans from public office must ensure exposed corruption never regains power.
Justice is incomplete without confiscating and recovering illegally acquired wealth. Allowing convicted officials to retain stolen assets undermines deterrence and sustains corruption networks. Effective shaming must strip both dignity and fortune from those betraying public trust. These measures may seem harsh, but they are far less damaging than the consequences of corruption itself: crumbling infrastructure, unsafe schools and hospitals, stolen development funds and suffocating poverty.
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Shaming as a social vaccine
PUBLIC shaming is not a medieval relic but a modern vaccine against impunity. Through sympathetic resonance, one act of disgrace reverberates through the political class, warning others of the cost of betrayal. Unlike prisons, which hide convicts from view, shaming ensures the corrupt are remembered as cautionary examples.
Bangladesh stands at a crossroads: continue the cycle of corruption scandals and futile imprisonments or innovate by making corruption socially toxic. Leaders who betray citizens deserve visible disgrace, not quiet immunity. Paraded in stadiums, symbolically stripped of prestige, barred from public life, and remembered as examples of dishonour, the corrupt receive a clear message: corruption is a national betrayal — it will not be forgotten. Properly applied, public shaming can transform governance culture, making integrity not just a legal requirement but a societal imperative.
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Strengthening institutions and journalism
EVERY Op-Ed on combating corruption underscores one critical truth: the indispensable role of fearless, meticulous investigative journalism. Reporting must be incisive, thorough, and entirely free from fear or favour, exposing wrongdoing in every corner of governance without hesitation. Only journalism that pierces the veil of secrecy can illuminate corruption and hold power accountable.
Equally vital, the Anti-Corruption Commission must be empowered exactly as the interim government’s Anti-Corruption Commission recommended — granted full authority, independence and protection against political interference. To inoculate the ACC against the virus of corruption, its officers should rank among the highest-paid and most privileged government servants. Their positions must be so prestigious, secure and rewarding that the very thought of risking their jobs, privileges or reputation through corrupt practices becomes unthinkable. Only then can they act decisively, without compromise, in defence of public interest and the rule of law.
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Dr Abdullah A Dewan is a former physicist and nuclear engineer at the BAEC and professor emeritus of economics at Eastern Michigan University, USA. Humayun Kabir is a former senior official of the United Nations, writing from Toronto, Canada.
