Reflex action

Some things are a definite no-no. And almost on top of the list is corruption/cheating/bribing. Just one of the things which one determines not to give in to - ever. So far, the naivette has survived. So when one hears of cheating during a sponsored 'test' - its hard for me to keep my mouth shut. "Forget it." "How does it concern you?" "Let them do whatever." Oh so common phrases. And such nonsense. So, as of last week, a somewhat respected colleague has taken a plummeting in my opinion. I remember another incident from more than a year ago, when I saw teh staff from a pollution checking booth, repeatedly take bribes - in broad daylight, from autorickshaws which came to get the pollution level checked, and either weren't at par or simply found it easier to pay up and take the stamped paper. Having witnessed this while stuck in a traffic jam, a good four hours of my time was spent in complaining to the booth, traffic police, police helpline, Delhi transport service and about three other related police stations, before I got tired of being passed around from one department to other, - simply because no-one seemed to have ever got a complaint from a civilian before (and lets not even go into a 'woman' complaining). My colleagues, bemusedly chuckled as I got more and more worked up on phone before giving up close to lunch time. The latest one on the receiving end being the gas connection shop demanding some 'eenam' for 'chai-pani'. Well, at least it'll be a good few months before I tackle the gas people again. Humphf. Maybe I'm over-reacting, but I'd rather stick to my line than pay money simply because 'chalta hai yaar'...

Here's a related article from past December's The Economist. The second in line from my 'clear gmail list'.
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HOW TO GREASE A PALM
Dec 19th 2006

Corruption has its own elaborate etiquette

GIVE people power and discretion, and whether they are grand viziers or
border guards, some will use their position to enrich themselves. The
problem can be big enough to hold back a country's development. One
study has shown that bribes account for 8% of the total cost of running
a business in Uganda. Another found that corruption boosted the price
of hospital supplies in Buenos Aires by 15%. Paul Wolfowitz, the head
of the World Bank, is devoting special efforts during his presidency
there to a drive against corruption.

For most people in the world, though, the worry is not that corruption
may slow down their country's GDP growth. It is that their daily lives
are pervaded by endless hassles, big and small. And for all the
evidence that some cultures suffer endemic corruption while others are
relatively clean, attitudes towards corruption, and even the language
describing bribery, is remarkably similar around the world.

In a testament to most people's basic decency, bribe-takers and
bribe-payers have developed an elaborate theatre of dissimulation. This
is not just to avoid detection. Even in countries where corruption is
so common as to be unremarkable and unprosecutable--and even when the
transaction happens far from snooping eyes--a bribe is almost always
dressed up as some other kind of exchange. Though most of the world is
plagued by corruption, even serial offenders try to conceal it.

One manifestation of this is linguistic. Surprisingly few people say:
"You are going to have to pay me if you want to get that done."
Instead, they use a wide variety of euphemisms. One type is
quasi-official terminology. The first bribe paid by your correspondent,
in Ukraine in 1998, went to two policemen so they would let him board a
train leaving the country. On the train into Ukraine, the customs
officer had absconded with a form that is needed again later to leave
the country. The policemen at the station kindly explained that there
was a SHTRAF, a "fine" that could be paid instead of producing the
document. The policemen let him off with the minimum SHTRAF of 50
hryvnia ($25).

Another term widely used at border crossings is "expediting fee". For a
euphemism it is surprisingly accurate: paying it will keep your bags,
and perhaps your contraband, from being dumped onto a floor and sifted
through at a leisurely pace. (A related term, used in India, is "speed
money": paying it can get essential business permits issued
considerably faster.)

Paul Lewis, an analyst with the Economist Intelligence Unit (a sister
company to THE ECONOMIST), describes the quasi-business terminology
typically used for bribery in the post-communist privatisations of
eastern Europe. A mostly useless but well-connected insider at the
company is hired as a "consultant". The consultant is paid a large
official "fee", nominally for his industry expertise, on the
understanding that he will cut in the minister and other
decision-makers.

A second type of euphemism dresses up a dodgy payment as a friendly
favour done by the bribe-payer. There is plenty of creative scope.
Nigerian policemen are known to ask for "a little something for the
weekend". A North African term is "UN PETIT CADEAU", a little gift.
Mexican traffic police will suggest that you buy them a REFRESCO, a
soft drink, as will Angolan and Mozambican petty officials, who call it
a GAZOSO in Portuguese. A businessman in Iraq told Reuters that
although corruption there is quite overt, officials still insist on
being given a "good coffee".

Double meaning can help soothe the awkwardness of bribe-paying.
BAKSHEESH, originally a Persian word now found in many countries of the
Middle East, can mean "tip", "alms" and "bribe". Swahili-speakers can
take advantage of another ambiguous term. In Kenya a
machine-gun-wielding guard suggested to a terrified Canadian aid
worker: "Perhaps you would like to discuss this over tea?" The young
Canadian was relieved: the difficulty could be resolved with some CHAI,
which means both "tea" and "bribe".

BROWN ENVELOPES
Along with the obscurantist language, bribe-taking culture around the
world often involves the avoidance of physically handing the money from
one person to another. One obvious reason is to avoid detection, which
is why bribes are known as "envelopes" in countries from China to
Greece. But avoidance of a direct hand-over is common even where there
is no chance of detection. There will always be some officials who will
take money right from a bribe-payer's hands, but most seem to prefer to
find some way to hide the money from view. A bribe to a border guard
may be folded into a passport. A sweetener to a traffic cop is often
placed in the ticket-book that is handed to the driver. Parag Khanna,
who is writing a book about countries on the edge of the rich world
that are trying to get rich themselves, describes a bribe-taker he
spotted in Georgia who he was sure was a rookie. Why? The scrawny young
soldier, forgoing any subtleties, merely rubbed his fingers together in
an age-old gesture.

Journalists are an obvious target for bribe-seekers. They often find
themselves trying to get past bored, poorly paid guards and officials
to see someone or something more important. Moreover, they are often
foreigners--and around the world white faces, foreign passports,
foreign car number plates and a few other distinguishing features are
like blood in the water for those seeking a pay-off.

A journalist for a Western newspaper in Moscow was running late for an
important meeting at the Kremlin for which he had waited a long while.
On his way he was stopped by the traffic police for some real or
invented infraction. In a hurry, the reporter negotiated a modest
bribe--but found he had nothing smaller than a 1,000 rouble ($30) note
in his wallet. Inspired by desperation, he agreed to pay 1,000 roubles
in exchange for a ride to the Kremlin in the police car, with sirens
blaring, to make sure he would be on time. The policeman tried to hold
out for 1,500 roubles, but the steely nerved journalist got his ride
for his offer price.

INAPPROPRIATE GIFTS
Journalists can be on the receiving end of bribes, too, to ensure
favourable coverage. A former Africa correspondent for THE ECONOMIST
says that in Nigeria, one of the world's most corrupt countries,
journalists are given hundreds of dollars in brown envelopes "for
expenses" simply to attend press conferences. An ocean away, Armstrong
Williams, an American columnist and television host, was paid $240,000
by the Department of Education to comment "regularly" on "No Child Left
Behind", an education-reform bill. He claimed that he was not a
"journalist" but a "commentator", but conceded that the deal had been
ill-judged. Similarly, Maggie Gallagher, another conservative
columnist, was paid to promote the Bush administration's "healthy
marriage" programme. When challenged, she asked, "Did I violate
journalistic ethics by not disclosing [the contract]? I don't know. You
tell me."

THE ECONOMIST lays down clear rules for its journalists. An envelope
stuffed with cash, much less a $240,000 contract, would be
inappropriate. Any gift, says the policy, must be consumable in a
single day. So a bottle of wine is acceptable, a case of wine is not.

Rich Westerners may not think of their societies as plagued by
corruption. But the definition of bribery clearly differs from person
to person. A New Yorker might pity the third-world businessman who must
pay bribes just to keep his shop open. But the same New Yorker would
not think twice about slipping the maitre d' $50 to sneak into a nice
restaurant without a reservation. Poor people the world over are most
infuriated by the casual corruption of the elites rather than by the
underpaid, "tip"-seeking soldier or functionary.

Indeed, in the world's richest economy, what many see as simple bribery
is an integral part of lawmaking. In Washington, DC, it is accepted
that a lobbyist's generous campaign contribution to a crucial
congressman may help to steer some spending to the lobbyist's client.

But proving corruption requires proving the intent to exchange one
favour for another. Brent Wilkes, named as a co-conspirator in the
bribery case of a Californian congressman, told the NEW YORK TIMES
about a lesson he was taught early in his lobbying career: a cheque
must never be handed over at the same time as a lobbying pitch is made.
Much better to wait and do it in a hallway later. Proving intent in a
courtroom is famously hard to do, so few such exchanges result in
convictions. But many ordinary Americans are aware of what is going on.
No surprise, then, that Congress is, by some measures, the least
popular branch of government.

Yet corrupt practices in America and western Europe are nothing like as
pervasive as in other parts of the world. There is no single cultural
factor that inclines a society towards corruption, but economic factors
play a big part. Most clearly, poverty and bribery go together.

But which causes which? Mr Wolfowitz's crusade at the World Bank is
based on the idea that corrupt countries fail to develop. But several
countries in Asia have grown rapidly at a time when cronyism was
common, including Indonesia and South Korea in their time. Today's most
conspicuous example is China with its explosive growth. Polls
consistently show that corruption is the top complaint of ordinary
Chinese. From time to time the Chinese government executes particularly
egregious offenders, to no apparent avail. And yet foreign investors
cannot pile into the country fast enough. Although most economists
agree that corruption slows development, a corrupt country is
nevertheless capable of rapid growth. Countries may be corrupt because
they are poor, and not the other way round.

Jakob Svensson, an economist at Stockholm University, has cut through
cultural stereotypes to search for hard data on corrupt economies. He
has found that socialist and recently socialist economies show higher
levels of corruption than others. Among the factors he has tested for
correlation with corruption is the overall education level of the adult
population. A second is openness to imports (measured by imports as a
proportion of GDP), which is linked with opportunities for smuggling. A
third is freedom of the press (as ranked by Freedom House, a
civil-liberties watchdog), on the hypothesis that independent
journalists will expose, and thereby curtail, corruption. The fourth is
the number of days needed to start a business, a proxy for the number
of permits required, and therefore red tape. Mr Svensson found clear
correlations between all these variables and the overall level of
corruption.

Among the many factors that determine the level of corruption in a
country, one stands out. Whether it takes the shape of an American
congressman dispensing a $2 trillion budget or a horde of petty
officials administering a Bible-sized rulebook, where there is a lot of
government, there is a lot of bribery. Corruption thus offers yet
another confirmation of the dictum attributed to Thomas Jefferson that
"the government is best which governs least."

For the original article see: The Economist

Hichory dickory dock

Finally going through my old gmails one by one. This BBC report caught my eye in Oct last year. And talking of time, half of this year is almost over. And its almost just yesterday that a colleague had mentioned having a new year's party, which we've been postponing every month, - and now six months are almost over. I try not to think about time too much. It scares me. The rate at which it rushes past, especially when one is working. One day in the office melts into another, one deadline into next..and all around things are changing... Its hard to get a grip on the bigger picture. And that is somehow scary. Oh well, enough waffle. Here is the article:
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Time out of mind

We can't touch time, or smell it. Yet it is utterly inescapable. But, research shows, time is - at least partly - something we control in our heads.
It's four in the morning, and schoolgirl Bethany McQuerry is starting her homework. Her dad, Clay, does the family's washing before going to the 24-hour supermarket. Meanwhile, Bethany's mum and brother, Janelle and Casey, sleep on.

But Bethany is no swot and Clay is no housework obsessive. They just wake up early every single day, whether they like it or not - it's as if they have permanent jet lag.

Bethany and Clay have to get things done early in the morning, because they also fall asleep in the early evening. The difference in timekeeping has divided the family, from North Carolina, US.

"There have been times when I wished we would function the same as other families," says Janelle. "It does make it hard when you're wanting to be together."

Only recently did Clay discover there was a biological explanation for his and Bethany's unusual behaviour, known as ASPS, or Advanced Sleep Phase Syndrome - a disorder of the body clock that shifts their day forward.

Caveman experiment

The body clock determines our most fundamental behaviours: when we wake up, go to sleep, and eat. But it also determines our physical strength and performance over a day.


However basic the clock's functions seem to us today, its existence was only proved in 1962, by a French caver.
Michel Siffre had been planning to study the movement of a glacier through an underground cave, when he realised the enormous potential of his experiment for the field of biology.

"I had the idea of my life: I decided not to take a watch in the cave. I decided to live without time cues," he said.

By isolating himself underground, away from daylight, clocks or routines, he hoped to discover whether the body had its own rhythm. And if so, what it was.

"I decided to live following my feelings of hunger, my feelings of going to sleep. In the cave it's always dark, then your body follows its own sense," said Mr Siffre.

His plan was to call a surface-team of assistants every time he woke, ate, exercised or urinated so every one of his biological functions could be monitored.

Each time, he would give an estimate of the date and time, and the surface-team would compare this with the real time. This he did for two months, before emerging into the real world. Mentally, he had completely lost track of time, but the results showed his body had kept up a rhythm.

While the length of Siffre's waking days varied widely, from 40 hours to just six, a clear pattern emerged. The average length of his days was just over 24 hours. Evolution, it seems, had tailored his body's clock to run closely to the Earth's day length.

It's now known that the body clock is controlled by a tiny pea-sized organ in the brain called the suprachiasmatic nucleus, or SCN. This tiny region commands a chain of chemical and nervous instructions that ripple through the body, controlling how each organ and tissue functions over the 24-hour day.

It's this mechanism that has gone wrong in the case of Clay and Bethany McQuerry. Their early rising is due to the inheritance of a single mutation that throws the whole body clock off kilter.

Does time fly?

While the body clock keeps the rest of us "in synch" with the world around us, that's not our only experience of time. We also have a completely separate sense of time passing.

Mostly, we're pretty good at estimating durations of time - how long you've been online, for example. But people also speak of "time flying" when they're enjoying themselves, or slowing right down in perilous situations such as car crash.


But is there any real distortion of perceived time here, or are people re-inventing their experiences after the event?
Psychologist Dr David Eagleman, of the University of Texas, recently set out to nail this assumption, and a BBC film crew was there to record it. He asked volunteer Jesse Kallus to perform a terrifying backwards free-fall of 33 metres.

If the anecdotes are correct, Jesse's perception of time would be slowed by the terrifying experience. But how could one monitor such a thing?

Mr Eagleman came up with a cunning device: the "perceptual chronometer", a wristwatch-like device which flicked blindingly fast between two LED screens.

Normally the flicker would be so fast Jesse could only see a blur. But if time slowed down for him, he might be able to discern the two different screens and read a random number on one of them.

"There's no way to fake this test," says Dr Eagleman, "because if time is not running more slowly, they can't see the sequence."

All Jesse had to do was jump, and read. As he ascended the 33ft metal cage no-one seemed to believe this curious experiment might work.


When Jesse landed, he noted he had seen "98". Dr Eagleman checked. In fact the number was 96. Not quite spot-on, but the two numbers look very similar on a digital screen.
"I would have loved it if he had seen the numbers exactly," says Dr Eagleman. "But this at least suggests to me that he's able to take in information faster than he was before".

Further jumps got similar results - all suggesting that time did seem to slow down for Jesse during the jump.

So while time on the clock may be constant, the time in one's brain is elastic and personal - something to remember in a boring meeting when time seems to grind to a halt. Time is not simply a fourth dimension in which we exist. It's something we, at least partly, create in our minds.

See the original at the link