Anti Corruption Agencies Rhetoric Versus Reality PATRICK MEAGHER

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Anti‐corruption agencies: Rhetoric Versus reality
PATRICK MEAGHER
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The Journal of Policy Reform
Vol. 8, No. 1, 69–103, March 2005
ARTICLE
Anti-corruption Agencies: Rhetoric

Versus Reality
PATRICK MEAGHER
University of Maryland, USA
Taylor and Francis Ltd
GPRE8104.sgm
(Received August 2004; accepted November 2004)

meagher@iris.econ.umd.edu
Taylor
8102005
Department
PatrickMeagher
00000March
The &Article
Francis
10.1080/1384128042000328950
1384-1289
Original
Journal of 2005
EconomicsUniversity
Group
(print)/1477-2736
Policy Ltd (online)of Maryland2105 Morrill Hall, College ParkMD 20742USA
Reform
ABSTRACT The anti-corruption successes of Singapore and Hong Kong have encour-
aged the establishment of strong, centralized anti-corruption agencies across the
globe. This study charts the emergence of anti-corruption agencies (ACAs), and then
examines recent experiences with these bodies in developing countries. We propose a
set of criteria for assessing and explaining their performance. The analysis applies
within strict limits to those countries that have established the minimum political,
legal, and socio-economic conditions for effective governance. Where these conditions
are in place, success is possible. However, ACAs in poor and badly governed states
are generally ineffective, if not actively harmful.
KEY WORDS: Anti corruption agency, Corruption, Investigation and prosecution
JEL CODES: K42, L31
Introduction
When societies around the world respond to corruption outbreaks, the
approach of choice increasingly is to establish an anti-corruption agency.
This response, seemingly simple, actually poses many difficulties. In this
study, we review experiences with a wide range of agencies from around the
world. In recent decades, Singapore and Hong Kong have provided the
impetus, and the paradigm, for the establishment of strong, centralized
agencies in this field. An alternative strategy involves strengthening anti-
corruption capabilities across multiple government agencies. In assessing
these experiences, identifying successes poses knotty problems. Many
agencies’ missions are broadly defined in terms of reducing corruption or
Correspondence Address: Patrick Meagher, Center for Institutional Reform and the Informal
Sector, Department of Economics, University of Maryland, USA. Fax: 301 405 3020; Tel:
301 405 5468; Email: meagher@iris.econ.umd.edu
ISSN 1384–1289 Print/ISSN 1477–2736 Online/05/010069–35 © 2005 Taylor & Francis Group Ltd
DOI: 10.1080/1384128042000328950
70 Patrick Meagher
changing values – elusive qualities to measure. Even in agencies with more

concretely defined objectives, the data on outputs, and intermediate
outcomes, are spotty. Keeping these difficulties in mind, we examine the
record of anti-corruption agencies, addressing such questions as what can be
expected of anti-corruption agencies (ACAs), and how one can assess their
performance and make meaningful comparisons among them. A question
that this paper does not directly address is how ACAs affect overall corrup-
tion indicators – for reasons we will explain.
What is an anti-corruption agency? One first needs to develop a workable
definition of an anti-corruption agency for purposes of study. Every society
has some institutions and procedures having as part of their mission the
prevention, detection, or punishment of corruption – from prosecutors to
civil service commissions. Our attention, rather, centers on separate, perma-
nent agencies whose primary function is to provide centralized leadership in
core areas of anti-corruption activity. The latter include policy analysis and
technical assistance in prevention, public outreach and information, moni-
toring, investigation, and prosecution. Even narrowly defined in this way, 1
anti-corruption agencies are numerous and their ranks are growing.
The Emergence of Anti-Corruption Agencies

The history of ACAs is frequently presented as starting with the establish-
ment of the commission in Singapore in the early 1950s, or even the
Hong Kong bureau founded in the 1970s. In fact, a quite similar model began
operations in New York City in the 1870s. The relatively late arrival of such
institutions derives in part from the wide recognition of corruption as an
important dysfunction of public administrations (as opposed to a moral fail-
ure) only in the 19th century. A further influence was the general tendency,
until well into the 20th century, to address corruption in the form of discrete
scandals and by means of ad hoc commissions (see Johnston, 1999). Indeed,
special anti-corruption mechanisms are still predominantly ad hoc or tempo-
rary in many countries, especially in Europe and North America.
Multiple-agency Approaches
In setting up anti-corruption mechanisms, most countries combine tradi-
tional state institutions with one or more specialized anti-corruption units or
agencies. A major scandal may expose the weakness of existing structures.
However, the depth of the crisis is insufficient to support a more robust
centralization of anti-corruption functions. Traditional judicial and adminis-
trative agencies retain their core capabilities and legitimacy while additional
structures are put in place to address gaps, weaknesses, and newly emerged
1. The World Bank (1999) describes the ideal ACA as a body that reviews and verifies official
asset-declarations; carries out investigations of possible corruption; and pursues civil,
administrative, and criminal sanctions in the appropriate forums. This model describes many
agencies but is too specific for our purposes. We prefer the looser definition offered above.
Anti-Corruption Agencies: Rhetoric Versus Reality 71
opportunities for corruption. The approach taken at the federal level in the
US provides a good example. In 1978, the Ethics in Government Act estab-
lished both the Office of Government Ethics and the Office of the Indepen-
dent Counsel, in the wake of the Watergate scandal and the revelation of
other lapses in the US Government.
The US had appointed ad hoc special prosecutors to deal with scandals
from Teapot Dome in the 1920s to Watergate in the early 1970s. The 1978
legislation attempted to codify the procedures and powers of this office, and
did so through legislative provisions that would ‘sunset’ after a period of
years, then need to be renewed (and which have now lapsed). The main
concern was to address the potential conflict of interest involved when the
Attorney General, an executive appointee, is required to address criminal alle-
gations against other high executive officers. The law required the Attorney
General to conduct a preliminary investigation to determine whether the
charges warranted further investigation or prosecution – and if so, a Special
Counsel would be appointed. The Attorney General was answerable to a
panel of judges appointed by the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court – and
this panel defined the Counsel’s jurisdiction. In the last decade, it became
clear that this arrangement guaranteed the Special Counsel’s independence,
but did not impose sufficient accountability (Harriger, 2000).
Among the post-Watergate innovations in the US, the closest approxima-
tion to an ACA (at the federal level) is the Office of Government Ethics.
However, OGE has the specific and limited mission of serving as an executive
branch ethics watchdog. (This is only one of several functions performed by
such agencies as Uganda’s IGG and the Philippines Ombudsman.) OGE is
relatively small for a US government agency, with some 74 employees and an
FY 2003 budget of US $11 million distributed among five departments. It has
a separate line in the federal budget and a Director appointed by the
President to a five-year term (USOGE, 2000).
The OGE, within its limited scope, carries out the central coordinating
functions of an ACA. It does this by developing ethics rules and regulations,
providing guidance and interpretation, evaluating the effectiveness of rules
and agency-based ethics programs, and conducting outreach and education
for executive officials and staff. Its most prominent public role is that of
receiving and reviewing the financial disclosure statements of White House
employees and Presidential appointees who are confirmed by the US Senate.
In this role, it enters agreements with these appointees to ensure that direct
conflicts of interest are avoided – and monitors these arrangements
(www.usoge.gov). The OGE’s functions are carried out by other structures
within the legislative and judicial branches.
Many other countries follow a similarly fragmented approach. Examples
include Britain, France, India, Mexico, and several others.
The Single-agency Paradigm: Hong Kong and Singapore

The now-prevalent idea of moving core anti-corruption functions such as
investigation and prevention, into a single powerful agency first gained
72 Patrick Meagher
prominence in Singapore and Hong Kong. The Independent Commission

Against Corruption (ICAC) in Hong Kong, and Singapore’s Corrupt
Practices Investigation Bureau (CPIB) are often cited as models. Here, we
examine a few highlights of these experiences, as the stories have been told
elsewhere.
First, it is worth clarifying the difference between single- and multiple-
agency approaches. The distinction has been used before (see Quah,
1999a), although there has been little attempt to explain it. The single-
agency strategy does not move all anti-corruption functions into a single
bureau – this would be impossible under any constitutional arrangement
that purports to be democratic. Rather, it places a number of key capabili-
ties, responsibilities, and resources under one roof – thereby creating a
powerful centralized agency able to lead a sweeping effort against corrup-
tion. This still requires the ACA’s interaction with other entities having
jurisdiction in this field – notably courts, prosecutors, and line ministries in
areas likely to be affected by corruption, e.g. revenue and public works. By
contrast, the multiple-agency approach is less ambitious. It avoids setting
up a strong ‘lead’ agency in the anti-corruption field, thus posing a lower
risk than the single-agency approach of upsetting the balance and separa-
tion of governmental powers.
So, why choose the single-agency option? The experiences of Singapore
and Hong Kong offer essentially the same answer. In both cases, a crisis of
legitimacy posed a threat to investor confidence and political stability. The
response was something new and different, an agency untainted by associa-
tion with corrupt elements, and equipped with enough power to make
headway against entrenched corruption. Importantly, this arrangement
also helps centralize information and intelligence on corruption, and can
greatly reduce the coordination problems that often arise in multi-agency
approaches.
Singapore was the first to make this move. CPIB was founded in 1952,
replacing a small anti-corruption unit within the police force. Leading up to
the reform, graft was reported to be rampant in government departments, and
a scandal in 1951 revealed widespread corruption in the police. The reform
removed the Branch’s functions from the police force (Quah, 1999a). The
corruption problem remained unresolved, however, and the government of
Lee Kwan Yew, beginning in 1960, passed legislation strengthening penalties
and increasing CPIB’s powers. Criminal liability has also been expanded to
include those who may not accept a bribe but intend to commit the offense,
and those who accept a bribe but do not provide the expected favor in return
(Quah, 1989; 1995; 1999a; www.gov.sg/pmo/cpib/index.html).
By the late 1960s, when Hong Kong was looking for an anti-corruption
model, it turned to Singapore. The main concern in Hong Kong was
entrenched and systematized police corruption, which facilitated drug
trafficking, gambling, and prostitution in return for huge rents, and included
bribery and extortion related to routine police functions such as traffic
control. The system involved collection and passing of percentages of graft
up the hierarchy to the Chief Superintendent. The immediate crisis giving rise
to ICAC’s founding was a corruption scandal involving Peter Godber, then

Chief Superintendent, who escaped and he later was extradited from the UK
for trial (Klitgaard, 1988). A Commission of Inquiry was convened, and the
Governor subsequently called for the establishment of ICAC, which began
operations in 1974. ICAC replaced an anti-graft unit within the police
department, setting up a free-standing agency with sweeping powers and
headed initially by a distinguished former government official and senior
company executive (Klitgaard, 1988).
Despite their similar origins and design, ICAC and CPIB take starkly
different approaches to the implementation of a single-agency strategy. We
analyze the design details later in this paper, but the differences are easily
summarized. ICAC brings huge resources (approximate budget of $91
million and staff of 1300, as of 2000) to bear on a broadly defined set of
tasks. The latter include following up all complaints and allegations ‘with-
out fear or favor,’ and linking these operations to the development of
reforms and preventive measures, to an ambitious program of community
outreach, and to citizen boards providing continuous monitoring and
input. In contrast, CPIB is a small, tightly run unit. Its resources (approxi-
mate budget of $3.2 million, staff complement of 71, based on early 1990s
estimates) are disproportionately small compared to ICAC’s. The investi-
gative mandate of CPIB is about as broad as that of ICAC. However,
CPIB is far more secretive. It is not required to divulge budgets or opera-
tional details, to justify decisions, or to submit to citizen oversight. While
both agencies benefit from sweeping investigatory powers and privileges,
CPIB is less constrained in terms of both procedure and substantive
presumptions.
Both agencies get favorable reviews. ICAC in particular is seen as a stun-
ning success. The following areas are usually cited as elements of this
achievement: investigations leading to prosecution and conviction of senior
officials and powerful businessmen (‘big fish’); changing Hong Kong’s ‘ethi-
cal climate’ through example, outreach, and education; and eliciting citizen
input in both oversight and reporting of corruption cases (Klitgaard, 1988,
Speville, 1997). CPIB is also widely known as a success. 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. However,
CPIB has some serious disadvantages. It is comparatively secretive. While it
promises the public to meet stringent efficiency criteria, it does not publish
any performance data, and its reviews are internal. Further, CPIB officers
have been accused of overzealousness, assault, abuse, and torture – as well
as bias in the selection of targets (Quah, 1989).
ICAC’s Children: Recent Experience with Single-agency Models

The Hong Kong ICAC model has proven enormously influential. The last two
decades have seen the emergence of scores, if not hundreds, of anti-corruption
74 Patrick Meagher
agencies around the world. Of these, there are perhaps as many as 30 to 40

at the national level that fit the ICAC profile of a strong, centralized agency,
and more at sub-national levels. Among the many possible examples, we have
looked at the following:
• Argentina: The Anti-Corruption Office (Oficina Anti-Corrupcion, ACO)
• Australia: The Independent Commission Against Corruption (ICAC) of
New South Wales
• Botswana: The Directorate on Corruption and Economic Crime (DCEC)
• Ecuador: The Commission on Civic Control of Corruption (Comision de
Control Civico de la Corrupcion or CCCC)
• Korea Independent Commission Against Corruption (KICAC)
• Malaysia: The Anti Corruption Agency (Badan Pencegah Rasuah
Malaysia, ACA)
• The Philippines: The Ombudsman
• Tanzania: The Prevention of Corruption Bureau (Taasisi ya Kuzuia
Rushwa, PCB)
• Thailand: National Counter Corruption Commission (NCCC)
• Uganda: The Inspector General of Government (IGG).
We chose these examples on grounds of both convenience (e.g. available
literature and researchers) and representation of a range of approaches and
geographic regions.2 Summary information on these agencies appears in
Table 1. Our analysis relies largely on published data and secondary litera-
ture. In three cases – those of Argentina, Malaysia, and Tanzania – we
worked with researchers based in those countries to gather detailed informa-
tion that was not otherwise available.3
Among the best known of the ICAC clones are the agencies in New South
Wales, Australia (NSW ICAC) and in Botswana (DCEC). The first was set
up in 1988 after a spate of scandals had brought the imprisonment of a chief
minister and a cabinet minister for bribery, the trials of several senior offi-
cials, and investigations of the police force. These events led to the election
of a 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 forced to resign (Williams, 2000).4 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
2. The examples are intentionally drawn largely from developing countries. The paper was
originally written at the request of the World Bank’s PREM-ECA bureau, which ran a
parallel study of anti-corruption agencies in the post-socialist transition countries. As a
result, no cases from that region appear here.
3. These researchers were Professor Luigi Manzetti (Argentina), Teresa Benedict (Malaysia),
and Haji Semboja and James Kajuna (Tanzania). Our discussion of these cases draws on
their background reports.
4. Maor (2004) points out that ICAC’s success in this case prompted a backlash by the
courts and the NSW parliament, resulting in significant cuts in the agency’s budget and
consequent reduced emphasis on investigations.
land sales and unpaid loans by senior officials from the National Develop-
ment 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).
Both of these stories fit well with the Hong Kong precedent. However, as
we shall explore in more detail below, the resulting agency designs differ
dramatically. Botswana adopted the Hong Kong design without major modi-
fication. It diverges from the original mainly in expanding its jurisdiction to
take in more white-collar crime, and coupling this with a far more modest
resource base. These two factors severely limit its effectiveness. New South
Wales, by contrast, focuses its capabilities sharply on a few selected test cases
and reform priorities each year. It places high priority on providing web-
based tools, on shaping government strategy, and on coordinating action on
high-impact cases.
Similar events unfolded 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, and in
Thailand (1999) and Korea (2001) after the linkage between corruption and
the recent financial crisis was recognized. The agencies in these countries
embody several innovations on the ICAC theme. For example, the Ugandan
IGG enforces public sector codes of conduct, while the Philippines Ombuds-
man makes binding determinations of administrative law and prosecutes
cases directly in a special anti-corruption court. Ecuador’s CCCC formalizes
citizen oversight, with a board selected by civic bodies directly managing
resources and guiding the effort.
The Anti-Corruption Office of Argentina came in on the heels of an
opposition victory in the national elections, in which the weaknesses of the
predecessor agency and the need for a viable replacement had been an
issue. The prior agency, the Oficina de Etica Publica was widely consid-
ered a public relations gesture by the Menem administration. Fernando de
la Rúa, leader of the Alianza opposition coalition, made transparency the
cornerstone for his successful campaign for Argentina’s presidency. Before
assuming office in 1999, de la Rúa decided to deliver on his promise to
fight government corruption by giving this task to his future Minister of
Justice, Ricardo Gil Lavedra. Gil Lavedra recruited respected experts in the
field of corruption and criminal justice, charging them to create a new,
more effective institution. They established the ACO as a special unit of
the Ministry of Justice and Human Rights, responding directly to the
Ministry and ultimately to the President of Argentina. Like the Hong Kong
ICAC, it does not have formal independence, but aims to ensure itself a
margin of freedom via its links to the public and sister agencies. Its success
has been mixed. One notable innovation in the ACO’s design is its discre-
tion to pursue cases selectively, according to a set of criteria – economic,
institutional, and social. Here, it resembles its sister institution in New
South Wales.
76 Patrick Meagher
The Malaysian Anti-Corruption Agency arose as the most recent step in a

complex progression. After two high-level commissions, during the late
colonial and early post-independence periods, found corruption to be a seri-
ous problem in the administration, the government in 1959 established the
first Anti-Corruption Unit. During the next two decades, this unit was
merged with special investigations departments of other agencies, and
brought under the authority of several different ministries in succession. In
1980, incoming Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad, as others previously,
undertook a review and restructuring of anti-corruption functions. Today’s
ACA derives its mandate from the Anti-Corruption Act of 1997. The legisla-
tion aimed to strengthen provisions on preventive efforts and investigative
powers, ensure that both public and private sector offenses were covered,
and impose higher penalties against offenders. The ACA is charged with
implementing a Policy Paper called ‘Vision and Mission of BPR towards
Achieving Vision 2020 – Challenges and Strategies (1996–2000).’ Phase I of
the program (1996–2000), now completed, focused on the public sector,
while Phase II (2001–2005) focuses on the private sector. The ACA has
played an active role in the re-education of directors of companies, working
closely with the Securities Commission and the Registrar of Companies. The
Agency’s scope and size are comparable to those of ICAC in Hong Kong,
but the ICAC budget is about eight times higher. Still, the ACA is viewed
largely as a success.
In Tanzania, the Prevention of Corruption Bureau was established in its
current form in 1991. PCB’s predecessor started in 1971 as a response to
abuses arising in Tanzania’s much-expanded parastatal sector. The core
functions of the Bureau are essentially the same as the Hong Kong
ICAC’s. In 1995, newly elected President Benjamin Mkapa restructured
and strengthened the PCB. At the time, the World Bank and IMF showed
signs of not being satisfied with Tanzania’s progress on governance
reform, and signaled the likelihood of reduced aid flows to highly corrupt
countries. Increasing domestic outrage about corruption leading into the
1995 elections, combined with growing perceptions of PCB’s weakness,
prompted the appointment of the Presidential Commission of Enquiry
Against Corruption (the Warioba Commission). The Commission’s report
created a sensation, and President Mkapa took some early dramatic steps
such as declaring his own assets and dismissing over 1,000 government
employees on suspicion of corruption (Sedigh and Muganda, 1999). The
1995 reforms provided for autonomy in recruitment, a separate budget,
and power to investigate and prosecute without political interference by
the government. President Mkapa had made these steps part of his
campaign platform. Still, political and resource constraints have limited its
effectiveness.
Assessing ACA Performance

The potency of the Hong Kong story is such, as we have just seen, that it has
bred a next generation of anti-corruption agencies. Establishing (or at least
revamping) an ACA is now one of the first steps considered in the wake of a
corruption outbreak. Does this make sense? Between the optimistic advocacy
of ACA proponents and the hardened skepticism of their critics, it is often
difficult reach firm conclusions before taking such a step. The record of
ACAs has received insufficient scrutiny, and what discussion there has been
generally lacks rigor. In this part, we hazard an assessment of what these
agencies have accomplished – and what they have not. Before doing so,
however, we need to define more clearly what such agencies can be expected
to achieve, and how to determine when they have done so.
Setting Expectations
When political leaders propose to establish an anti-corruption agency, they
have little reason to be candid about their motives and expectations. ACAs
are often put forward as the answer to corruption. Thus, our first challenge
is to cut through the rhetoric and to get at the underlying purpose.
The stated purpose of an ACA is to combat corruption, to eradicate or
reduce it to the minimum. This, however, gets us no further than it does to
say that an environmental agency is about a clean environment, and a justice
ministry is about justice. In all of these cases, broader efforts are underway,
but the central agency is set up to coordinate and catalyze action. Reaching
the ultimate policy objectives presents complications; these are centrally
important, and yet they are often submerged in the policy discourse.
Nowhere is this more evident than in the anti-corruption field.
The most influential policy analyses, following the economics literature,
treat corruption as a principal-agent problem.5 Line employees act on behalf
of superiors, as do bureaucrats on behalf of elected officials and ultimately
the electorate. Principals need to select, monitor, and motivate their agents
to act in accord with the principals’ interests, e.g. effective public policies and
services. Anti-corruption reform means re-aligning incentives, enhancing
information systems, and re-establishing the correct balance of reward and
punishment to foster desired agent behavior. Thus, the use of agency theory
yields persuasive and actionable findings. However, its focus on individual
choice and on simplified preferences rests on assumptions that hold only in
limited circumstances.
Other social science disciplines, taking a broader view, have often located
corruption within parallel structures of organization and allegiance that have
only a tangential relationship to formal state structures. For example, elected
officials may owe allegiance to quite narrow business or ethnic interests, and
distribute benefits accordingly. In short, formal and informal roles may
diverge substantially. Networks and alliances rely on exchanges to meet their
objectives – and they may use elements of the state and the political system
to mediate these exchanges. Many such exchanges are corrupt, in that they
violate norms proscribing the use of public power for private gain. This
happens often enough in the industrial countries, but is especially pervasive
5. Rose-Ackerman (1978), Klitgaard (1988), Bardhan (1997).

78 Patrick Meagher
in weakly institutionalized developing and transition countries (see, e.g.

Scott, 1969).
Now, if state institutions can be used as instruments to carry out corrupt
exchanges, then these institutions can also be suborned or weakened in order
to facilitate, hide, or protect such transactions. A recent analysis underlines
this point:
The causes and consequences of and solutions for corruption tend to be

intertwined. Consider, for example, the relationship between corruption
and the effectiveness of a country’s legal system. The level of corruption
… may begin to rise in response to, say, an external shock. The political
elite may find the increased income from corruption irresistible. Once
corrupted, the elite will attempt to reduce the effectiveness of the legal
and judicial systems through manipulation of resource allocation and
appointments to key positions. Reduced resources will make it difficult
for the legal system to combat corruption, thus allowing corruption to
spread even more. Therefore, a weak judicial system becomes a cause as
well as a consequence of corruption.6
The implication is clear. Anti-corruption efforts are not only subject to

major limitations and qualifications, but also unavoidably political.
The limitations are many. First, several necessary conditions for success
appear to have nothing to do with setting up a formal program or an ACA.
These include public order, political stability, and the absence of macroeco-
nomic crisis or crippling distortions, a link between political gain and anti-
corruption success, and some basic features of the rule of law.7 These condi-
tions are weak or non-existent in many of the poorest countries. Second, the
dimensions of corruption could still overwhelm an anti-corruption program.
New policies and agencies cannot cure thoroughly unsound governance envi-
ronments in the near term. Rather, they can address corrupt areas (even
deeply corrupt ones) within an environment that is otherwise sound. Third,
the ability to sustain effective anti-corruption efforts over time reflects the
evolution of effective institutions of public governance more generally.
Short-term success is sometimes possible in a dysfunctional environment, but
the achievements are unlikely to outlive the incumbent regime. There is no
free lunch, no magic by which disciplined corruption-fighting machinery can
materialize in a deeply corrupt environment.
These limitations are evident in the sketchy record of anti-corruption
mechanisms. Our purpose here is not to mount a comprehensive survey of
ACAs. If we did, however, we would expect the picture to be predominantly
one of failure. It is difficult to imagine the agencies set up in Argentina and
Tanzania single-handedly turning the tide in the battle against corruption –
much less those in Pakistan, Bangladesh, Nigeria, Sierra Leone, or a dozen
other countries. At best, some have started out in dire situations, but gained
6. Jain (2001, p. 72).

7. See, e.g. Kaufmann (1998).
new power and credibility after a regime change – or more frequently, began
in the most promising fashion, only to fall short. The majority of ACAs,
which are most numerous in the developing world, probably serve no useful
role in combating corruption. Some may indeed be actively harmful.
On the political dimension, as Johnston suggests,
[T]here is no way to attack the corruption problem without raising

fundamentally political questions about the ways people – both public
and private – pursue and use power, and about the people and stan-
dards to which they should be held accountable.8
This is most obvious where the state is weak and corruption organized
along patrimonial lines. In this case, the distribution of illicit rents may be so
systematized that it makes little sense to think of it as a feature of the political
system – it is the political system.
In another sense, anti-corruption efforts are political by definition: like all
reforms, they happen on the plane of politics. The effort arises from some
challenge, whether by strong or weak constituencies, external or internal
ones. Depending on the strength of the challenge, it might be possible for the
regime to get away with little more than empty gestures. For example, it
might set up an ACA with few resources and no scope for independent action.
Alternatively, if the challenge seriously threatens the regime’s hold on power
(or brings in a new government with high expectations), then the credibility
bar will be set much higher. An ACA would need resources, sanctions and
coercive power, independence, and public accountability. Additional ques-
tions arise in the design of the mechanism – whether, for example, to make
it a powerful deterrent to the potentially corrupt, to provide insurance for
select elites against investigation, or to set up credibility-enhancing features
aimed at constituencies such as international aid donors and local NGOs.
Value Added
We know what ACAs purport to achieve – reduced corruption. We could
attempt to measure this, using changes in scores on governance indicators
developed by researchers at the World Bank and by commercial services. 9 A
more nuanced approach might draw on findings from studies on the efficiency
of government expenditure and service provision. However, as Kaufmann
(1998) and others point out, the problem of identifying a flow of causality
from anti-corruption agencies to these outcomes is daunting. Too many other
influences are at play, and we lack adequate empirical controls. Alternatively,
8. Johnston (2001, p. 4, emphasis in the original).

9. An initial effort (by other researchers) to correlate the existence of an ACA with
corruption perceptions indices – using data from an earlier draft of this paper –showed
a negative relationship. This should not be surprising. The anti-corruption rhetoric
fostered by these agencies aims to increase awareness, hence to strengthen the impres-
sion that existing levels of corruption are too high. Johnston (2001) and Steves and
Rousso (2003) make a similar point.
80 Patrick Meagher
we could attempt to gauge success using the political leader’s objective func-
tion (e.g. getting re-elected or meeting a World Bank loan condition). This
might be easier, but it answers the wrong question.
We need to look at what ACAs actually do, and how well they do it.
Their immediate objectives are usually described in terms of prevention and
deterrence, often with some element of public mobilization mixed in. Such a
program involves a certain defined menu of functions and tasks that most
ACAs share. Having collected information on some thirty ACAs, we are
able to identify six functions that they commonly perform. Table 1
compares these task areas against a rough listing of the broader set of tasks
involved in restraining corruption.
Comparing the tasks actually allocated to anti-corruption agencies with
the larger set of public goods and services required to combat corruption
makes it clear that ACAs can: only take on a limited set of them – and that
other agencies often handle the same tasks anyway. Thus, an ACA’s value-
added surely cannot simply be its set of responsibilities, powers, and activi-
ties. The policy rationale seems, rather, to be that, unlike existing agencies of
restraint, an ACA can; (i) centralize all necessary information and intelli-
gence about corruption, and (ii) resolve coordination problems among
multiple agencies through vertical integration. This enables it to assert lead-
ership and overcome obstacles that stymied earlier efforts. In other words,
the agency’s main contributions are synergy, coordination, and concentrated
power. The main expected outcome of an ACA is an overall improvement in
the performance of anti-corruption functions. As important, the main
underlying assumption is that the ACA itself can avoid being tainted by
corruption or political intrusion.
It is important to distinguish between: (a) the level of corruption in a given
country or district; and (b) how well certain core anti-corruption functions
are performed. In principle, the two are related, but the latter is essentially
an output measure. One could link this, with only a few realistic assump-
tions, to measures of proximate impact or intermediate outcomes. These
achievements may depend on an ACA’s success in producing its outputs.
Examples include the number of successful prosecutions, the number and
quality of institutional reforms designed to combat corruption, and the
intensity of anti-corruption sentiment and activity across society.
In this study, we use these kinds of performance measures to the extent
available. These types of measures had their genesis in the New Public
Management movement. Performance measurement systems translate the
objectives of an organization or program into indicators against which
achievement can be assessed. The areas covered by these measures usually
include some combination of productivity, effectiveness, quality, and timeli-
ness. Public management experts categorize performance indicators as
follows (National Center for Public Productivity, 1997):
• Output indicators (workload or units produced)

• Outcome indicators (effectiveness in meeting public purposes, meeting
needs)
Table 1. ACA functions
Anti-corruption task area ACA handles? Other agencies handle?
Receive and respond to complaints Sometimes Ombudsman

Intelligence, monitoring, and Often Central investigations bureau,
investigation prosecutor
Prosecutions and administrative orders Infrequently Attorney general, special
prosecutor
Preventive research, analysis, and Sometimes Special policy units, performance
technical assistance audit agencies
Ethics policy guidance, compliance Sometimes Civil service commission, special
review, and scrutiny of asset declarations units
Public information, education, and Sometimes Public information agency,
outreach NGOs
Develop national anti-corruption No Special commission, NGO
strategy
Ensure merit criteria and adequate pay No Civil service commission,
for civil servants parliament
Ensure appropriate private sector No Ministries, parliament, courts
regulation and fiscal sources
Secure macroeconomic growth and No Central bank, Ministry of
stability Finance, parliament
Orient social equilibrium away from Sometimes Chief of state, courts, cultural
bribery figures
Define incentives favoring innovation Infrequently Parliament, courts, financial and
and competition, disfavoring rent- competition regulators
seeking
Design appropriate campaign finance No Parliament, electoral
system commission, courts
Source: Argentina (ACO): Anti-Corruption Office (2001), De Michele (2001), B.O. 1999/12/14 (Ley de
Ministerios), www.jus.gov.ar/minjus/oac/oa.htm, data collected by Luigi Manzetti; Australia/NSW (ICAC,
2001); Williams (2000), www.icac.nsw.gov.au/; Botswana’s Approach to Fighting Corruption and Economic
Crime (2000); Directorate on Corruption and Economic Crime (2001); Fombad (1999); Olowu (1999);
Theobald and Williams (2000), www.gov.bw/government/directorate_on_corruption_and_
economic_crime.html; Ecuador (CCCC): CCCC (2000), www.comisionanticorrupcion.com; Hong Kong
(ICAC); Quah (1995); Speville (1997); Lai (2000), www.icac.org.hk; Korea (KICAC): Fight Against
Corruption, Korea Herald, 4 April 2002; Quah (1999b); Anti-Corruption Agency (1999 and 2000), Data
collected by Teresa Benedict, www.bpr.gov.my; Philippines (Ombudsman): Desierto (2001)
www.ombudsman-phil.net; Singapore (CPIB): Leak (1999), Quah (1995), www.gov.sg/pmo/cpib; Tanzania
(PCB): Data collected by Haji Semboja and James Kajuna, Sedigh and Muganda (1999); www.tanzania.go.tz/
poffice.htm; Thailand (NCCC): Asian Development Bank (1999); Phongpaichit (2001); Quah, (1999b),
www.nccc.thaigov.net/ProjectNCCC/eng.htm; Inspector General of Government; Kpundeh (1999),
Ruzindana (1998), Ruzindana et al. (1998), Sedigh and Ruzindana (1999), www.igg.go.ug.
• Efficiency and productivity indicators (cost-effectiveness, ratio of input to

output, unit costs).
We reviewed a sampling of indicators from US agencies with missions simi-

lar to those of ACAs (the Justice Department, Federal Trade Commission,
82 Patrick Meagher
Securities and Exchange Commission, and Environmental Protection Agency)

to get a sense of the varied ways in which agencies attempt to measure perfor-
mance. For example, agencies with an identified client base, whether within
government or outside, place greater emphasis on efficiency indicators than
do purely regulatory and investigatory agencies. All of the agencies reviewed
use some form of output indicator. Regarding outcome measures, some agen-
cies emphasize direct outcomes such as convictions, monetary recoveries, and
implementation of proffered advice. Others – prominent among them regu-
latory enforcement agencies and audit bodies – focus more on secondary
effects such as savings to the treasury and to consumers.
Assessing ACA Results

Our sample anti-corruption agencies publish performance data – mostly on
outputs, some on productivity. The data are often incomplete, inconsistent,
or untrustworthy. Not all of the basic outputs are measured, and it is no easy
task to determine the consistency of, for example, prosecutions with proce-
dural protections and non-partisanship. Moreover, even complete measures
on ACAs will eventually need to be supplemented with intermediate outcome
data, which are frequently unavailable. Given these constraints, our choice
has been to look at performance data in the context of agency case studies.
Interpreting the formal institutional descriptions and performance numbers
requires a nuanced qualitative sense of whether the agency and activities are
well targeted – and whether the outcomes are as beneficial as they could be.
Some of the ACAs make mandatory reports that are subject to audit. For
example, Uganda’s IGG reports to Parliament every six months, although
these reports are not made public. Outside scrutiny increases confidence in
the data.
Many agencies, such as Botswana’s DCEC and the Philippines Ombuds-
man, report comprehensive performance figures in their annual reports.
Typically, these reports furnish figures on activities and on backlogs,
although the numbers provide no indication of the kinds of cases pursued,
nor whether judgments were enforced – or had any impact. Less typically,
agencies report figures that are more revealing. A few agencies (e.g. the
Hong Kong ICAC and the US OGE) publish benchmarks against which
their performance can be measured. The Hong Kong ICAC reports raw
numbers of cases and studies, case prosecution and conviction rates, and
indicators of efficiency such as time lapses in complaint response and case
disposition. ICAC also breaks out its prosecution numbers by sector and by
offense, (e.g. over three quarters of those prosecuted in 1999 were from the
private sector, ICAC, 2000). In Australia, NSW ICAC breaks down the
corruption allegations it addresses by sector, with 12.8% dealing with
zoning or building permits, 10.1% with procurement, 9.6% public services,
and 8.5% law enforcement (ICAC, 2001). In Argentina, the Anti-Corrup-
tion Office sets its strategic objectives at the beginning of each year, and
these provide the benchmark upon which its internal evaluation is
performed. The ACO (in its report covering 2001) estimated that its actions
allowed the federal government to save some US $11 million. It had also
started judicial proceedings aimed at recovering $113 million in funds that
it believed were poorly administered (ACO, 2001).
How well did the agencies reviewed here perform in terms of their policy
mission and goals – and why? Comparative performance data are summa-
rized in Table 2.10 It is difficult to base an analysis on these data alone, due
to their incompleteness and lack of uniformity. Considering this, here is how
the agencies compare on performance in the six ACA task areas (numbers on
an annual basis, various years):
Receive and respond to complaints. The Philippines had the largest intake
in terms of raw numbers. However, on a per capita basis – and given the
reported levels of corruption in those countries – these numbers are in
effect quite low as compared to Hong Kong’s. New South Wales and
Botswana had lower totals, but were still competitive on a per capita basis.
Botswana’s total is especially remarkable, since it reports 74% of
complainants as having voluntarily identified themselves. Hong Kong is
the only country reporting on its efficiency in handling complaints.
Intelligence, monitoring, and investigation. In this area, the data are not
uniform. Some countries report the numbers of investigations started, i.e.
Argentina, Botswana, and Tanzania. Others report completed investiga-
tions in various ways, i.e. NSW, Ecuador, Malaysia, and Uganda. It is
hard to make sense of these data. Numbers of completed investigations
seem more meaningful than numbers of investigations started – but neither
speaks to the quality of the effort, nor the outcomes.
Prosecutions and administrative orders. Here again, the reporting is
disparate. Some agencies report overall numbers, while others report
actions taken by prosecutors and administrative supervisors, and a few
report both, i.e. Argentina, NSW, Ecuador, Hong Kong, Malaysia, Tanza-
nia, the Philippines. The Philippines far exceeds the other countries in
prosecutions, but there is a problem of comparability, since its ACA is the
only one with authority to prosecute on its own. New South Wales
reported only ten prosecutions, but this is a result of its narrow focus.
Numbers and percentages of convictions are perhaps more telling, for the
few that report them: Hong Kong (60% success rate), Malaysia (25%),
and the Philippines (23%). By this measure, Hong Kong is by far the most
successful. Again, the numbers do not convey the quality of the proceed-
ings, nor the harshness or deterrent effect of the penalties imposed.
Preventive research, analysis, and technical assistance. Only a few ACAs
report results in this area, i.e. NSW, Hong Kong, and the Philippines. These
numbers are not comparable, since they do not indicate the scope of the
assistance activities counted. The most telling number is perhaps NSW’s
56% success rate in having its recommendations fully implemented.
10. These data come from official reports, usually by the agency itself. The numbers are often
verified by a government or citizen oversight body. Where independent data likely exist,
for example in court records, collection of such data is often difficult and in any case was
not feasible within the resources of this research effort.
84 Patrick Meagher
Table 2. ACA performance data
Prevention, ethics, asset

declarations, information,
Agency/indicator Cases, investigations, disposition outreach
Argentina ACO 1784 investigations started. 99.9% compliance rate by

(1999–2002) 81% of investigations concluded. the civil servants required
9% decrease in unsolved cases. to file a financial
489 cases referred to the judicial disclosure statement.
system. 317 referred in 2001.
14% increase of cases under judicial
investigation between 2000 and 2001.
44 prosecutions, 20 cases dismissed.
Australia NSW ICAC 1509 complaints with 2058 allegations 4 prevention reports, 7
(2000–2001) 265 recommendations for reform research reports
arising out of investigations. published.
6 investigative reports. 148 recommendations for
10 prosecutions, 10 disciplinary action reform fully implemented,
proceedings 74 partly implemented.
3 major conferences, and 5
government training
events held.
Botswana DCEC Complaints received: 1475 145 presentations to
(2000) Number made in which complainants public on corruption
identified themselves: 1096 (74%)
Number made anonymously: 379
Investigations commenced: 390
Cases either referred to other bodies or
in which no action was taken: 1085
Ecuador CCCC Complaints received: 512
(1998–1999) Completed investigations: 322
Cases referred for legal or
administrative action: 79
Hong Kong ICAC Graft reports received: 3561 Number of detailed
(1999) Cases identified and investigated via studies of government
own initiative: 216 practices and procedures:
Percentage of those making graft 106
complaints interviewed immediately/ Number of requests from
within 48 hours: 99% private firms for free
Percentage pursuable complaints corruption prevention
completed within 12 months: 89% advice: 260
Persons prosecuted (corruption and Percentage requesters of
related offenses): 504 (32% increase advice/training on
over 1998, up from 300+ on avg. corruption prevention
1974–1984). contacted within 2 days:
Convictions: 302 (up 15% from 1998), 100%
for a success rate of 60%
Table 2. Continued
Prevention, ethics, asset

declarations, information,
Agency/indicator Cases, investigations, disposition outreach
Malaysia ACA (1999) 413 investigations.

213 cases outstanding from 1998.
360 prosecutions begun in 1999.
283 arrests, including 18 senior
officials, 127 private persons.
152 prosecutions completed,
89 convictions, 56 acquittals.
Philippines Number of new cases: 9739 Requests for preventive
Ombudsman (2000) Number of cases filed for prosecution assistance tended to:
with the courts: 2209 10 583
Cases in which penalties were imposed
on government officials or employees:
514
Tanzania PCB (2000) Complaints under investigation: 1128 12 public meetings
Number of cases: 1461 225 seminars
Complaints under investigation closed: 157 radio programs
328 48 000 brochures and
Public complaints received: 1311 leaflets
Private complaints received: 88
Prosecutions (1995-2000): 94
Uganda (1997–1998) Cases investigated and completed: 98
IGG (7%)
Complaints received: 1428
Cases referred to other government
department: 420
Source: See Table 1.
Ethics policy guidance, compliance review, and scrutiny of asset declara-

tions. Most of the ACAs covered here do not process asset declarations.
Of these, only Argentina reported on this (a near-perfect compliance rate).
Public information, education, and outreach. Here too, there was little
reporting. Numbers are published by NSW, Botswana, and Tanzania.
Overall, these numbers indicate volume of activity more than they do qual-
ity or success. Hong Kong and New South Wales report the most impressive
data on outcomes, although other agencies report higher levels of raw
output. Malaysia and the Philippines are next in rank. The outcome numbers
for Tanzania seem especially disappointing. Since Singapore does not report
results, we can only make inferences from perceptions of its professionalism
and the long-term impact of the overall anti-corruption effort, which are
impressive.
86 Patrick Meagher
Explaining Performance
Having determined how we might identify success and measure it, we face
the question of how to explain it. Despite the burgeoning literature on corrup-
tion, few contributions focus on ACAs, and no systematic study appears to
have been made yet. Papers that do address ACAs, provide some intuitively
plausible suggestions about factors likely to yield success, including the
agency’s own structures and powers, as well as necessary complementary
institutions.
The literature on this topic is thin and easily summarized. Pope (1999)
suggests that the key elements making an ACA potentially valuable are its
prevention activities and its role in monitoring the implementation of
government’s overall anti-corruption policy. Further, an ACA will need
either a policy or a jurisdictional limit (i.e. non- or limited retroactivity)
concerning past offenses, to avoid overwhelming the agency with casework
and political controversy. Since an anti-corruption agency is especially
vulnerable to misuse as a political tool and indeed as a vehicle for corruption,
Pope suggests that in general ACAs should be kept to the minimum size –
comprised essentially of small investigations and monitoring units – and be
subject to a combination of public oversight, legal standards, and judicial
review.
Counterbalancing an anti-corruption body’s accountability is its indepen-
dence. Here, Pope cites the following as important structural protections for
an agency’s independence: the provisions for appointment and removal of
senior ACA officials, the placement of the ACA in a position where it is not
subject to direct political or ministerial dictates, and a direct role for public
stakeholders who provide a discrete political base for the agency. Also
important is some measure of fiscal independence – either the ability to
propose a budget directly to the legislature, or a guarantee of budgetary
stability. An ACA needs strong political and public support in order to be
effective. While placement of the ACA in the office of the chief of state may
bolster its strength (Singapore), in other instances (Tanzania) this is likely to
compromise its independence.
Pope also describes the affirmative powers that an ACA needs in order to
be most effective. These include strong research and prevention capabilities;
the right to access witnesses and documents; power to freeze assets and seize
travel documents; the ability to protect informants; and authority to monitor
assets, income and expenditures, and tax returns. The ACA’s powers to
monitor wealth are considerably enhanced where the law provides for an
‘illicit enrichment’ offense, which shifts the burden onto officials to show
that any unusual wealth has a legitimate source. In its Sourcebook, Transpar-
ency International (2000) presents guidance that is more detailed in this area.
Langseth (2001) takes this discussion further. He suggests that the scope
of an ACA’s authority should include investigations and prosecutions, an
educational and awareness-raising function, a preventive function, and a
legislative role (submitting reform bills to parliament). Most (if not all)
ACAs must also face up to the need for selectivity in investigations. Langseth
underlines the importance of clear standards in this area, and of explaining

these credibly to the public and to complainants in particular. He suggests
that an effective ACA must be embedded in a coherent national anti-corrup-
tion strategy, and that new agencies in particular need to follow a carefully
defined focus.
Doig (1995) describes the ideal ACA as an ‘island of competence’ within
the public sector, deploying a ‘cross-executive’ corps drawn from several key
sectors. He suggests that ACAs are good at addressing certain problems –
ethical probity of officials, and government’s credibility and public reputa-
tion for integrity – but not others. Doig’s model gives primacy to research
and evaluations. These should be linked to a proactive agenda of long-term
reform and capacity building, and investigation and punishment functions
should get lower priority. This is consistent with the subsequent suggestion
in Doig and Riley (1998) that ACAs require careful planning and perfor-
mance measurement, lest they become essentially reactive and hence subject
to political pressures to focus on the wrong areas.
Last, some observers stress the importance of broader political and
economic influences. Kaufmann (1998), among others, stresses the centrality
of economic and public sector restructuring in determining the overall
strength of corruption drivers and anti-corruption policies. Gillespie and
Okruhlik (1991) examine the politics of corruption cleanups in some devel-
oping regions. These cleanups include legal measures such as the establish-
ment of ACAs (though these are not differentiated). The analysis focuses on
the impact of the political context – continuation of incumbent leadership
versus change because of election, coup, or revolution – on the quality of the
cleanup. Not surprisingly, the authors find the leadership’s self-preservation
to be the primary motivating force behind cleanups. The leadership’s politi-
cal insecurity determines the character of the cleanup. This means timid and
superficial cleanups led by incumbents, as contrasted with the more rapid
and intensive cleanups forced by opposition or political change – with the
latter largely targeting high officials.11
Maor (2004) analyzes the politics of anti-corruption mechanisms, using
cases from the US, Italy, Australia, and the Soviet Union. In essence, elected
leaders set up ACAs and investigations as investments in ‘integrity capital,’
in an environment of intensifying public outrage about official sleaze.
However, in an excess of zeal they set up mechanisms with greater power and
autonomy than they are willing to tolerate. This is borne out when anti-
corruption investigations focus on political leaders, who then strive to under-
mine those efforts and curtail the investigators’ powers. The outcomes of
these struggles are explained in terms of media access to government and
concentration (versus fragmentation) of political power.
11. The article expressly dealt only with internally driven campaigns. In years since then,
external pressure – whether diplomatic or financial, bilateral or multilateral – has
become increasingly common. The most likely result in such cases is incumbent-driven
initiatives.
88 Patrick Meagher
We now return to our illustrative anti-corruption agencies to see how well

the factors cited in the literature account for differences in results. Some of
these factors do appear to contribute to performance, while others do not.
Establishment
Our review of the emergence of ACAs, earlier, discussed the mode and
circumstances of establishment. That review suggests that the ‘constitutional
moment’ of establishment is critically important. This means capturing the
momentum created by scandal and crisis, gaining consensus on a reasonably
clear and realistic strategy, and mobilizing the resources to implement it.
Hong Kong ICAC and other successful ACAs built upon early support from
key backers, in and out of government, to carry out the core mission. Total-
itarian regimes, and even ‘lite’ authoritarian regimes such as those of
Singapore and Malaysia, can rely to some extent on hierarchical influence to
make an ACA effective – once they are committed to doing so. However, for
this commitment to exist, some threat to the leadership’s political security is
needed – e.g. a corruption–induced crisis. Alternatively, it is possible for an
ACA to break down limits set in place by its founders, and thereby take on
a new and unexpected life of its own. The NSW ICAC offers a prime example
in its investigation of one of its founders.
The success of an ACA also depends on its being carefully situated from
the start within a set of well-defined supports. These include a comprehensive
anti-corruption strategy, careful planning and performance measurement,
realistic expectations, and strong enough political backing to make it effec-
tive regardless of (political and personal) consequences. Singapore provides
a prime illustration of the importance of strategy. The reform of CPIB in
1960 figured in a comprehensive anti-corruption strategy that was imple-
mented in phases. The first phase focused on a combination of deterrence
and removal of opportunities. Toughening the legal requirements and the
penalties, as well as enforcement, met the first goal. Taking preventive action
through studies and reform recommendations addressed the second point.
Only later, in the 1980s, did the government decide it could move seriously
on the second phase of the strategy: improving the incentives of public
servants. Once economic growth had reached a sufficient level, Singapore
could afford to provide officials with dramatic salary increases (Quah,
1995). Thus, Singapore’s overall strategy addressed the incentives for
corruption through careful attention to civil servant salary levels across
government – in addition to the CPIB-specific investigation and prevention
activities (Quah, 1999a).
Also important in the set-up of an ACA is its cross-agency relationships.
Anti-corruption agencies depend to a large degree on cooperation from
sister agencies. Securing this cooperation means either positioning the ACA
at a point of maximum influence or providing it other tools for encouraging
– or extracting – help. Hong Kong and Singapore imposed stringent legal
duties of cooperation on government and the public. The Malaysian ACA
follows a similar pattern, and it has benefited from both government and
civic cooperation. For example, some 16 Deputy Public Prosecutors are

assigned by the Attorney General’s office to work on ACA cases. Addition-
ally, the ACA and Police recently established a Joint Committee to Combat
Corruption, which helps expedite investigations, disciplinary actions, and
the sourcing of information. In Australia, NSW ICAC works with other
agencies to resolve problems that diminish their effectiveness. ICAC uses the
Internet to further cooperation, with its suite of electronic tools for preven-
tive analysis (ICAC, 2001). The Ugandan IGG has been able to draw on
cross-agency cooperation. In this, it is helped by its authority to enforce 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). In other cases,
apparently well-positioned agencies suffer from a lack of coordination
across government.
Some ACAs have had more difficulty, probably due to the failure by the
agency’s proponents, and the agency itself, to use the urgency of reform to
overcome resistance to change – a reflection of limitations on political cohe-
sion within government, and in turn the depth of the challenge posed by
scandal. In Argentina, the ACO has had this kind of experience. Its relation-
ship with the courts has been poor. In 49 cases, the ACO had to defend its
right to appear in the lower courts, despite the federal appeals courts’ recog-
nition (on two occasions) of the ACO’s right to do so. The ACO defeated the
constitutional argument, and public pressure has been mounting on the judi-
ciary to move forward on corruption cases. Relations with the President and
Congress have also been troubled. Peronist congressmen close to former
President Menem, concerned about investigations of their allies, have argued
that the ACO should be disbanded to reduce the government budget. Alter-
natively, the ACO has a good, informal, rapport with the media, NGOs,
universities, polling agencies, and foreign companies.
In a similar way, the Tanzanian Prevention of Corruption Bureau appears
to be well-positioned, but in fact suffers from non-cooperation. The agency
is located at the pinnacle of government, in the President’s Office, along with
the Good Governance Coordinating Unit, a body charged with ensuring
coordinated government action on the anti-corruption strategy, and with
providing policy guidance to the PCB in accordance with that strategy. As a
result, PCB has obtained commitments of support across government.
However, this surface picture of accord does not carry through into effective
coordination. There are a few explanations for this. PCB does not benefit
from an express legal duty on the part of other agencies to cooperate and
facilitate its work.12 The cooperation of the public has suffered from general
antipathy and lack of awareness. Looming above all this is the political equa-
tion. President Mkapa did not assume office as the head of the ruling party
– that role still belonged to Julius Nyerere, who continued to command
ruling party loyalists until his death, and was known to oppose reforms that
posed a threat to the party’s dominance. In addition, the usual coalition
12. The Botswana DCEC also has this problem (Langseth 2001, DCEC 2002).
90 Patrick Meagher
building played a role. Lacking a strong independent political base, PCB’s

power can only be as great as the President’s.13
Focus
Experience supports the notion that an ACA, in order to be effective, needs
to be strategic in defining its focus. No agency can cope with an unlimited
mandate; choices must be made. For example, an agency could focus on
prevention and on monitoring government implementation of anti-corruption
policy (foregoing a comprehensive mandate, as in Korea). Its jurisdiction
could be mainly prospective (only limited concern with past cases, as in Hong
Kong); it could choose cases selectively, based on pre-defined standards (as
in Argentina and NSW); or it could deal only with the probity and reputation
of the public service (as in the US). The element of focus seems to be under-
emphasized in the literature and in discussions of anti-corruption reform.
Hong Kong is the exception that proves the rule. The ICAC has broad anti-
corruption jurisdiction over the public and private sector. The ICAC Ordi-
nance requires the Commissioner to investigate ‘any’ suspected corruption.
The agency’s policy has been to take this literally, pursuing all corruption
allegations without a priori selection criteria – although it is within the sole
discretion of the Attorney General to decide which cases to prosecute. It was
deemed imperative to show the public that ICAC took all corruption
seriously. An investigation could only be closed, unless it led to prosecution,
by a decision of ICAC’s Operations Review Committee (see below). One area
was partly closed off by law: the past. In response to early protests about
ICAC’s operations, an amnesty for most pre-1977 offenses was written into
the ICAC Ordinance (Speville, 1997).
Certainly, this approach helps avoid any hint of flawed or self-interested
choices. It also conforms to the ‘broken window theory.’14 However, in
Hong Kong this required a huge, and hugely expensive, agency. The Hong
Kong ICAC model discourages focus and selectivity. Similarly, Singapore,
Malaysia, and Botswana have eschewed selectivity in favor of comprehen-
siveness – but Singapore still managed to sequence its proactive agenda in a
way that suited its strategy. The agencies in Uganda, Thailand, and the
Philippines also have large and varied responsibilities, with no clear mecha-
nism for paring these down.
At the other extreme, the New South Wales ICAC in Australia takes a
‘test case’ approach, choosing to pursue only those allegations (and only
those institutional reform studies) that will result in high-impact action.
NSW ICAC retains the authority to prioritize complaints – and to refuse
13. The KICAC in Korea has had similar problems. ‘Fight Against Corruption,’ Korea
Herald, 4 April 2002.
14. The idea (associated with James Q. Wilson) that every criminal infraction, no matter
how trivial, should be addressed in order to deter offenses that are more serious and to
arrest a potential slide into high crime equilibrium. This approach is said to enable social
forces favoring a cleanup to gain the upper hand. The application of this theory to
corruption seems obvious, though it has not been much discussed.
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 (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 (ICAC, 2001).
Likewise, the Argentine ACO can select and pursue cases within its juris-
diction. Three main criteria guide the selection of cases:
• The economic criterion is based on a quantitative analysis. All cases are
examined but only those cases whose amount is regarded as large and seri-
ous enough to have substantially affected the functioning of a given
government institution are investigated. Cases involving over one million
pesos (approximately US $281 000) are always investigated.
• The institutional criterion is qualitative in nature. Cases are investigated
when their magnitude and gravity prevent a given government institution
from accomplishing its institutional mandate and functions.
• The social criterion is used to determine if a corrupt act may affect a signif-
icant number of people who are supposed to receive services from an
institution under investigation.
A selective approach seems to require both a strong ability to justify such
choices, and capable alternative institutions to pursue cases on referral. NSW
ICAC thus sticks to a relatively narrow focus, in the interest of using scarce
resources strategically. This can work only in an environment where such an
institution is not vulnerable to charges of partiality. Selectivity serves the
broader objective, which has less to do with the ‘retail’ work of investigating
every complaint, and more to do with ensuring leadership, coordination, and
attention to the anti-corruption effort.
Another aspect of focus has to do with breadth of jurisdiction. The impor-
tance of the private sector in corruption suggests a need for some flexibility
about the limits of an ACA’s scope. There is certainly some logic to avoiding
artificial barriers. Singapore’s CPIB has authority to investigate any crime
that becomes known in its corruption investigations – a power that most
such agencies do not have. The issue here is one of synergy – i.e. what activ-
ities are dealt with together most efficiently and effectively? The ICAC model
often brings public sector and economic crimes under ACA jurisdiction.
However, there is a real risk of overstretch. For example, Botswana’s law
brings private sector activities within the scope of DCEC’s investigation
powers. This includes not only bribery but also various forms of revenue
fraud. Even this broad mandate was further expanded by the Proceeds of Seri-
ous Crime Act, 2000. This in effect makes DCEC the lead money-laundering
92 Patrick Meagher
investigator, by requiring the central bank to refer suspicious transactions to

DCEC for investigation. In many systems, economic offenses are put under
the authority of a Serious Frauds Office or other unit dealing with revenue
fraud or white-collar crime. Many ACAs have narrower jurisdiction. For
example, the NSW ICAC statute limits it to handling corruption offenses by
public officials – although its scope was expanded in 1994, to include conduct
by Members of Parliament.
In short, the definition of an ACA’s jurisdiction requires an important stra-
tegic decision. As the above experiences demonstrate, success cannot be
achieved unless the ACA’s mission, its jurisdiction, the selectivity question,
and the resource base are considered together and integrated into the
agency’s design.
Safeguards
The first key element here is accountability. This comprises the application
of legal standards, the availability of judicial review, systems for public
complaints and oversight, a requirement that the agency answer to all
branches of government and the public, and expenditure accountability.
Some commentators also suggest limiting the size of the agency.
The Hong Kong ICAC sets the standard here. Accountability begins with
strict responsibility of ICAC and senior officers to the Chief Executive
(formerly the Governor), and of staff to the ICAC Commissioner. The
Commissioner, in turn, prepares an annual report for the Executive. The
report eventually goes to the legislature, which also approves the agency
budget as part of the general revenue. Further, a 1996 amendment to the
ICAC Ordinance strengthened the role of the judiciary in authorizing search
warrants – to bring ICAC into compliance with Hong Kong’s 1991 Bill of
Rights (Speville, 1997, Camerer, 1999).
The most famous of ICAC’s accountability mechanisms are the citizen
oversight boards, known as Advisory Committees. These are appointed by
the Executive and must be chaired by private citizens. There are four such
committees: the Advisory Committee on Corruption, which oversees general
policy and direction of ICAC; and one committee dedicated to oversight of
each of ICAC’s departments – the Operations Review Committee, Corrup-
tion Prevention Advisory Committee, and Citizens Advisory Committee on
Community Relations. The Operations Review Committee is arguably the
most strategic, since it oversees the largest and most powerful department.
The Committee does not have formal powers to compel the production of
documents and information, but does have a straight line of responsibility to
the Commissioner and the Executive. There is also a separate and indepen-
dent ICAC Complaints Committee, which reviews all complaints against the
agency. An internal investigation and monitoring unit follows up on
complaints.
The legacy of the Hong Kong ICAC is clearest in Australia, where the
NSW agency solicits citizen oversight and input, and 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. 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
appropriate (NSW ICAC Act 1988, NSW ICAC 2001). This form of ‘govern-
ment in the sunshine’ gives the general public the ability to oversee parts of
ICAC’s operations directly. The Philippines Ombudsman is similarly open to
scrutiny, though it does not have formal citizen committees.
Not all ACAs follow this model of accountability. For example,
Singapore’s CPIB has no citizen oversight boards nor any explicit public
outreach and education function. It is not required to publish or send to
parliament an annual report, hence its operations are not known in detail or,
apparently, covered in depth by the press. Despite its publicized commitment
to ‘e-government,’ Singapore does not publish CPIB’s budget or performance
record on the web. In addition, CPIB’s powers of arrest, search and seizure,
review of bank information, and others do not require prior judicial autho-
rization. This situation has led some to question CPIB’s impartiality, and has
contributed to numerous instances of heavy-handedness. The Malaysian
ACA occupies an intermediate position – keeping the public generally
informed and addressing complaints, but locating formal oversight within
the government and judiciary (Langseth, 2001).
In other cases, encouraging citizen participation is itself the heart of the
agency’s mission. Ecuador’s CCCC15 is an instance of this. The CCCC 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
frequent conflicts with the Attorney General over prosecutions.
The array of linkages to oversight bodies and to the public, where these are
sufficiently strong, can go some way towards counteracting weaknesses in
other areas. The potential benefits are multiple e.g. insulation from control
by factions within government, and enhanced legitimacy and independent
political support for the agency. The Argentine Anti-Corruption Office
provides a good example. The ACO’s factual independence of action and its
effectiveness seem to depend more on political dynamics and relationships.
The ACO is supervised by SIGEN (Sindicatura General de la Nación), the
executive branch oversight institution, which monitors the agency’s progress
against its planning targets and checks the agency’s compliance with audit
15. Information on this agency comes from telephone and e-mail correspondence, the CCCC
(2000) report, as well as the agency website: www.comisionanticorrupcion.com
94 Patrick Meagher
and confidentiality rules. This arrangement came about at the request of the
ACO, which saw it as a useful way to stress its integrity. In addition, individ-
uals can file lawsuits against the ACO in federal court. The main Argentine
newspapers have leading reporters covering the ACO’s activities and check-
ing in on a weekly basis, and major radio stations regularly cover the ACO’s
findings on corruption issues. The ACO’s media relations reflect its early
strategy of outreach, including the training of journalists on the ACO’s
mission and legal framework.
The second key safeguard is agency independence. This in some cases
arises simply from outside accountability, sometimes from the agency’s
placement and line of responsibility, the appointment and removal proce-
dures for top officials, or some form of fiscal autonomy. Both Hong Kong’s
ICAC and Singapore’s CPIB lack formal independence. They are responsible
to their respective chiefs of state. The Commissioner who heads ICAC, along
with any Deputy, serves at the will of the Governor. The Director of CPIB,
with the upper-level staff of the agency, is appointed by the President (the
formal head of state but not the political leader of Singapore), and the agency
operates within the Prime Minister’s Office.
The newer agencies that we have reviewed vary significantly in their
degree of structural autonomy. A few of them have quite strong guarantees
of independence, in terms of appointments, reporting responsibilities, and
fiscal autonomy. In Uganda, for example, the constitution 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. The consti-
tution also provides that the IGG is responsible only to Parliament, provid-
ing it semi-annual reports (Sedigh and Ruzindana 1999). Stronger still are
the independence guarantees in the case of Australia’s NSW ICAC. In
formal terms, it is a government corporation with the powers of a standing
committee – this separates it from cabinet ministries and links it to parlia-
ment. The ICAC Commissioner is appointed by the NSW Governor (to a
five-year non-renewable term), with the approval of the Parliamentary Joint
Committee on ICAC. The Governor also appoints any Deputies. The NSW
ICAC has its own budget line from the NSW legislative appropriation and is
accountable to the Joint Committee.
Most of our sample ACAs have either no structural independence or only
partial autonomy. Botswana’s DCEC is an example of the former. 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, and it has no fiscal independence. DCEC does not have
the citizen oversight and transparency mechanisms of the ICAC model,
although it does conduct outreach. The Tanzanian PCB is in essentially the
same situation.
Perhaps the most interesting cases are those where the agency has essen-
tially no formal autonomy and yet seems to operate independently in practice.
The Argentine ACO, for example, is a special unit of the Ministry of Justice
and Human Rights, responding directly to the Ministry and ultimately to the
President of Argentina. It has no structural safeguards or guarantees of inde-
pendence. Its members are political appointees under provisional contracts.
However, experts suggest that its non-partisan staff and its effective work to
date have enabled the ACO to shield itself from political interference. 16 The
ACO has been helped in this by the solid reputation it has established, as well
as its visibility in the media, which would likely protest any assault on the
ACO’s independence. In addition, the fact that the top management of the
ACO is not party-affiliated would suggest that there was no single political
sponsor behind it. Although five presidents have ruled Argentina since
December 1999, none has made any direct effort to obstruct its work. The
Malaysian Anti-Corruption Agency also seems to have greater operational
freedom in practice than its formal structures admit. Under the 1997 ACA
Act, the King appoints the Director-General of the ACA, on the advice of the
Prime Minister, for a period specified in the instrument of appointment. The
Director-General is directly responsible to the Prime Minister. Unlike its
Argentine counterpart, the ACA lacks a strong constituency outside govern-
ment. However, the ACA reports regularly to Parliament, and this account-
ability – along with the professionalism of the staff and the agency’s support
base within government – provides a measure of independence.
These experiences suggest that accountability and formal independence –
while desirable in their own right – are overrated in the literature on ACAs.
Strictly speaking, they do not appear to play the lead role in determining an
agency’s performance of its anti-corruption functions. Formal independence,
like formal dependence, can be overridden by political factors. It does
appear, however, that an agency’s de facto autonomy to operate in a profes-
sional and non-partisan manner increases its prestige, hence its ability to
mobilize political support and cooperation for its aims. In this case, the ACA
can build long-term credibility for its anti-corruption mission – a virtual
impossibility for politically subordinate agencies. Accountability has much
the same effect. It moreover affords observers within and outside govern-
ment the opportunity to monitor the agency’s performance and to propose
corrections.
Powers
Observers have suggested that a successful ACA must have strong research
and prevention capabilities, along with comprehensive investigatory author-
ity. The Hong Kong’s ICAC and Singapore’s CPIB provide the model for this,
having powers to access documents and witnesses, freeze assets and seize pass-
ports, protect informants, monitor income and assets, and propose adminis-
trative and legislative reforms. ICAC and CPIB have authority both to
respond to complaints and to undertake investigations on their own initiative.
Importantly, neither has the power to prosecute directly, but refer findings
16. Interviews by Luigi Manzetti.

96 Patrick Meagher
to their justice authorities. This is true of other agencies, although some of

them have prosecutorial authority under limited delegations.
The coercive powers of many ACAs would likely be rejected as extreme in
the established democracies. For example, Singapore’s CPIB has both the
regular powers of the police as well as special powers. CPIB may, for exam-
ple, examine bank accounts, enter and search the books of banks, and
require explanations of ‘unexplained’ or ‘disproportionate’ wealth as well as
certain asset transfers. The availability of heavy sanctions strengthens CPIB’s
hand. These include stiff penalties for offenses, legal duties to furnish infor-
mation, and stringent prohibitions on obstruction or failure to comply. So do
broad definitions of corruption, attempts, abetting, and conspiracies in the
penal law (Ah Leak, 1999). Other agencies, including the Hong Kong ICAC
and the Botswana DCEC, benefit from many of the same powers, including
presumptive forfeiture of unexplained wealth. In some cases, such powers
can be exercised without a judicial warrant. ACAs in Argentina, Malaysia,
Thailand, and Uganda also review asset declarations.
In structural and functional terms, the Hong Kong blueprint is evident
throughout. Most of the agencies have separate units each charged with
implementing part of the same tripartite strategy consisting of investigations,
prevention, and public education. Several of the agencies have modified this
arrangement of functions. For example, the Ecuadorian CCCC focuses on
prevention. In this case, the ‘prevention’ responsibilities are essentially those
of mobilizing and educating the public to exercise civic ‘control’ over govern-
ment – but do not include a true analytical and advisory role toward govern-
ment as in the classic ICAC model (www.comisionanticorrupcion.com). In
the Philippines, the Ombudsman has powers in addition to those of a classic
ICAC. To the anti-corruption responsibilities is added 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 addi-
tion, the Ombudsman makes binding determinations of law in administra-
tive 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).
Other ancillary powers and privileges can also prove important, for exam-
ple legal immunity and the power to protect witnesses. Most ACAs benefit
from the powers and immunities of police officers. In Argentina, by
contrast, the ACO’s members do not have immunity from legal actions
against them while performing their duties. One expert suggests that provid-
ing immunity would be an unusual step in the Latin American context, and
would increase the risk of irresponsible behavior by the ACO. 17 Protection
of witnesses and confidential information, which is also critically important
in sensitive investigations, is often included in the statutory powers of ACAs.
For example, the 1997 Act establishing the Malaysian ACA prohibits disclo-
sure of the identity of anyone who provides information to an ACA officer,
17. Comments by Roberto de Michele.

and all other circumstances relating to the information, including the place
where it was given – nor can any Court, tribunal or other authority order
that such information be disclosed.
The powers effectively wielded by an ACA do indeed play a role in perfor-
mance. A necessary condition for success in investigations and prosecutions
is the grant of coercive powers. Other aspects of the ACA mission can be
conducted based on informal cooperation, but this appears only rarely possi-
ble in the case of investigations. To get beyond the necessary to the sufficient
conditions for success, one must look to the other factors discussed here.
Resources
One often hears that the success or failure of agencies, notably those in the
anti-corruption field, hinges on the quantity of resources available. Experi-
ence in Hong Kong and Singapore strongly suggests that budget and staff
numbers alone count for little. In those instances, agencies with vastly differ-
ent resource bases achieved comparable levels of success.
The first major component of this is staff. Agencies in this field, as in
others, depend on well-trained personnel – including sufficient numbers with
highly specialized skills. Staff should also be well compensated, subject to
integrity reviews and quick removal, and endowed with a strong ethic of
professionalism. Hong Kong, Singapore, Australia/NSW, and Malaysia lead
the way here. For example, the Hong Kong ICAC’s staff are recruited from
all sources, and appointed to contract terms of two to three years, renewable.
Special qualifications, screening procedures, and remuneration packages are
in place – separate and distinct from the civil service system – to ensure
recruitment on merit grounds. ICAC staff are given a ‘gratuity’ of 25% of
gross salary, on the condition of ‘satisfactory performance,’ at the end of
their employment contracts (Speville, 1997). Although salary information
for CPIB staff was not available, it is well known that Singapore’s public
sector pay scales are second to none (gross monthly salary for senior admin-
istrative positions of over US $26 000).
Argentina attempted to follow this pattern, but its economic crisis has
severely reduced compensation levels, thus diminishing the ACO’s ability to
recruit and retain highly professional staff. Other countries considered –
notably Uganda, Tanzania, Ecuador, and the Philippines – appear to have
considerable difficulty recruiting, paying, and training personnel of suffi-
ciently high quality. While one cannot specify a benchmark number of staff,
due to the variations in agency design and context, it is quite clear that a
sufficiency of highly professional, well compensated, and motivated employ-
ees is necessary to success.
Among the other resources available to an ACA, budget funding is of most
obvious importance. The overall budgets of these agencies (apart from Hong
Kong’s) do not correspond closely with strong capability and success.
Singapore’s CPIB had a budget of $3.23 million in 1991–92, considerably
less than most of the other agencies, and yet has highly compensated and
qualified staff, as well as a strong reputation for effectiveness. Singapore’s
98 Patrick Meagher
relatively small size and population, and CPIB’s ability to compel coopera-
tion without great effort, would account for some of the difference. By
comparison, Hong Kong ICAC’s budget is huge. From an initially robust
figure, it had increased to US $91 million in 1999–2000. In that year, Oper-
ations accounted for over 69% of overall expenditure, and the combined
costs of public outreach and education claimed 18% of the total. Of the total
budget for all functions, personnel costs comprised just over 90% of costs.
Another major contrast between ICAC and CPIB is their size. ICAC seems
quite large – huge in fact – for an agency of its type, especially in a relatively
small jurisdiction such as Hong Kong, a city of about 6 million people. The
in 2000 total staff complement of ICAC was 1342, with actual strength at
1299, of which the Operations Department claimed the lion’s share (973
positions, 943 actual, ICAC 2001). By comparison, the figures for CPIB are
quite modest. The number of staff in CPIB is not published. Studies from the
1980s and 1990s cite a figure of 71 for the total staff complement (up from
only eight in 1960), comprised of 49 investigators and 22 clerical and
support staff – with actual strength reported at 66 in the late 1990s (Quah,
1989; 1999a).
Clearly, the sufficiency of the resource base depends importantly on how
large a mission it takes on. Several examples bear this out. In Australia, NSW
ICAC enjoys the combination of a sharply defined mission with ample
resources. It employed a staff of 122 and had a budget of US $8.6 million in
2001. The Commissioner has substantial latitude in hiring staff, and
appointments are exempt from both civil service and industrial relations
regulations. Remuneration packages appear to be on a par with other
government agencies, with the Commissioner earning the equivalent of
160% of the compensation of a trial judge, for example. Botswana’s DCEC
provides a counter-example, i.e. an expanded mission with modest resources.
It has a staff of similar size to NSW ICAC (130, of which 86 are classified as
professional), but a budget of less than one-quarter (approximately US $1.8
million in 2000). Despite the staff numbers, the availability of appropriately
skilled professionals is constrained, and for this reason, DCEC continues to
employ several expatriates in the upper ranks (Theobald and Williams,
2000). The constraints facing Uganda’s IGG are still more stringent. 18
Complementary Institutions and Conditions

The criteria here include adequate laws and procedures, and basic features
of the rule of law. The latter would include functioning courts, free and
active media, an energetic community of NGOs and public interest groups,
and other capable agencies of restraint such as supreme audit and central
bank. This list of criteria cuts in two directions. Successful ACAs do seem to
operate in environments characterized by effective laws, procedures, courts,
and financial system governance – and ACAs are not successful in the
absence of these factors. (A strongly established rule of law may indeed
18. New Vision, 26 April 2002, Kampala, www.igg.go.ug.

obviate the need for an ACA in the first place – and make it harder to set one
up). Alternatively, civic factors such as free media and capable non-govern-
mental watchdogs are not as clearly associated with ACA success. Their
relatively low profile in Singapore and Malaysia – and their relatively high
profile in such countries as Argentina, Uganda, Korea, and the Philippines –
suggest that these civic factors are neither necessary nor sufficient for
success. Still, media and civic organizations have helped make a fundamen-
tally open and cooperative approach to corruption control successful in
Hong Kong and Australia, and have likely been important to modest
successes achieved in other countries.
Another set of necessary background conditions would include macro-
economic stability, the absence of crippling distortions, and an environment
where corruption – though it may be deep in a few sectors – is not
entrenched across the whole system. One could argue that Argentina’s
ACO had very good prospects for success, but that the economic crisis has
made this nearly impossible. Similarly, poverty and economic shocks in
many African countries, including Tanzania and Uganda at various times
over the last decade, have undermined even promising initiatives. As impor-
tant, corruption that touches virtually all of government and the private
sector makes it impossible for an anti-corruption program to gain traction.
There are too many opposed interests with the power to undo it. This
appears to be the case in India, the Philippines, and Tanzania, among many
others not mentioned here.
The apparent outliers – Hong Kong and Singapore – actually fit the above
profile. They were able to attack widespread entrenched corruption in a situ-
ation of accelerating economic prosperity, when the top officials in govern-
ment undertook a dramatic – and credible – program of suppressing
corruption. The dramatic measures themselves were unusual, and these were
made possible by the colonial city-state contexts. Moreover, these measures
arguably were not necessary to defeat corruption over the long-term, but
they were critical to the goal of a rapid reversal. The successes in Hong Kong
and Singapore owed a great deal to the ability of governing elites to act deci-
sively in a perceived crisis, and to mobilize significant resources. Unfortu-
nately, these conditions do not recur in most recent cases where ACAs have
been created.
A political economy analysis (Moran, 2000) suggests three main pillars of
support for ICAC – and a similar analysis probably fits Singapore. First, the
Governors, reporting to the UK Prime Minister, tolerated corruption early
on, but then saw it becoming a serious problem by the 1970s. They had suffi-
cient autonomy from local public opinion to push dramatic change (since the
handover to China in 1997, this arrangement is seen as less advantageous).
Second, Britain’s ‘liberal-authoritarian’ approach promoted the rule of law,
helping keep ICAC from abusing its power while enabling it to pursue
corruption successfully within legal means. Last, local, and international
business elites have played a major role. They both supported ICAC in
restoring some integrity to the public administration, and apparently exer-
cised pressure to limit some of its inquiries into high-level dealings affecting
100 Patrick Meagher
business interests. This did not prevent ICAC from prosecuting prominent
business people.
Assessment and Conclusion

To summarize our findings, the anti-corruption agencies in Hong Kong,
Australia/New South Wales, and Malaysia have been significantly more
successful than the others have, based on agency performance data, for many
of the reasons cited in the literature. Our qualitative analysis, though brief
and far from comprehensive, gives us some confidence that those agencies –
along with Singapore’s CPIB – actually are adding value in anti-corruption
terms, and that this contributes to the strong governance ratings of those
countries. Still, we do not have hard evidence that these results could not
have been achieved through multi-agency cooperation in the absence of an
ACA. Rather, the qualitative information broadly indicates that the ACAs in
these countries have overcome coordination, information, and leadership
constraints that a multiple-agency approach might not have. With more
consistent data collection by these agencies, and continued improvement in
broader governance indicators, it should eventually be possible to link
agency performance to corruption levels.
Several caveats should be mentioned. We have focused most of this paper
on what makes anti-corruption agencies succeed or fail in their mission.
Here, we return briefly to some broader concerns raised earlier in the paper:
what constraints and risks come with the choice of an ACA? Observers have
commented on such risks as politicization, predation, diversion of attention
and resources from other necessary areas, and bureaucratic duplication. All
of these dangers have been realized in various cases discussed above.
Singapore and Malaysia have ACAs embedded in the executive and the civil
service system, which itself suggests that they operate under some, perhaps
mild, political imperatives. However, it would be wrong to conclude that a
situation like this is always benign. In most of the world, in fact, there is a
serious risk of political manipulation and predation. This risk grows with the
tendency to concentrate powers in these agencies. There is also the danger
that effort and resources will be wasted, and that this in turn will reinforce
public cynicism.
The limitations of ACAs are usually much more severe than people real-
ize when they set out to establish them. Where the ACA is not structurally
independent, it can be no more powerful than its bureaucratic and political
patrons can. This may be very powerful or very weak, depending on the
environment. An ACA’s success depends largely on cooperative
relationships with other elements of government. In a sense, this is a
strength, since it forces anti-corruption champions to achieve strategic
consensus and to commit to concrete forms of cooperation, before moving
forward. Unfortunately, this is rarely the case, and it probably breaks
down often even in cases where it has been achieved. As a result, ACAs are
regularly frustrated by their inability to secure information, cooperation,
prosecutions, etc.
ACAs are also largely incapable of addressing the larger forces driving
systemic corruption. For example, the fact that most ACAs describe their
preventive function in terms of accountability within agencies or sectors
suggests that bigger issues such as government-business networks, induce-
ments for rent seeking, and campaign finance might be getting short shrift.
Most obviously, there is no way that ACAs can be effective in a situation
where essentially every important institution is compromised. Even if this
were not the case, an ACA is essentially a response to symptoms.
Moreover, we need to keep the limited applicability of these case studies
carefully in mind. It is unwise to draw very specific conclusions about the
impact of the various agencies reviewed in this paper. As experiments with
the ICAC model in other countries have shown, success in Hong Kong or
New South Wales does not mean that the same blueprint will produce posi-
tive results elsewhere. Our analysis of contributing factors to success goes
some way towards explaining why this is the case. In New South Wales, 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. Other agencies operate in a range of contexts that bear little
resemblance to Hong Kong. In addition, whether these agencies provide
sufficient net benefits in broader terms – beyond corruption control alone –
is a question we have not attempted to answer. Observers of Singapore in
particular wonder whether the anti-corruption benefits of CPIB truly coun-
terbalance the risks posed by its draconian powers and lack of transparency.
To conclude, we have addressed the limited question of how to judge and
explain successes (and partial successes) of anti-corruption agencies. The
larger number of ACA failures, and the bigger issue of how societies can
reduce corruption overall, we leave for another day.
Acknowledgements
This paper could not have been produced without the guidance and support
of Randi Ryterman, Jim Anderson, and Ed Campos of the World Bank.
The following contributed importantly to the research: Luigi Manzetti,
Southern Methodist University; Teresa Benedict, Transparency Interna-
tional/Malaysia; Haji Semboja and James Kajuna, Economic and Social
Research Foundation, Tanzania.
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Anti Corruption Agencies Rhetoric Versus Reality PATRICK MEAGHER

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The Journal of Policy Reform

ISSN: 1384-1289 (Print) 1477-2736 (Online) Journal homepage: https://www.tandfonline.com/loi/gpre19

Anti‐corruption agencies: Rhetoric Versus reality

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Anti-corruption Agencies: Rhetoric

(Received August 2004; accepted November 2004)

KEY WORDS: Anti corruption agency, Corruption, Investigation and prosecution

JEL CODES: K42, L31

changing values – elusive qualities to measure. Even in agencies with more

The Emergence of Anti-Corruption Agencies

The Single-agency Paradigm: Hong Kong and Singapore

prominence in Singapore and Hong Kong. The Independent Commission

to ICAC’s founding was a corruption scandal involving Peter Godber, then

ICAC’s Children: Recent Experience with Single-agency Models

agencies around the world. Of these, there are perhaps as many as 30 to 40

The Malaysian Anti-Corruption Agency arose as the most recent step in a

Assessing ACA Performance

5. Rose-Ackerman (1978), Klitgaard (1988), Bardhan (1997).

in weakly institutionalized developing and transition countries (see, e.g.

The causes and consequences of and solutions for corruption tend to be

The implication is clear. Anti-corruption efforts are not only subject to

6. Jain (2001, p. 72).

[T]here is no way to attack the corruption problem without raising

8. Johnston (2001, p. 4, emphasis in the original).

• Output indicators (workload or units produced)

Table 1. ACA functions

Anti-corruption task area ACA handles? Other agencies handle?

Receive and respond to complaints Sometimes Ombudsman

• Efficiency and productivity indicators (cost-effectiveness, ratio of input to

We reviewed a sampling of indicators from US agencies with missions simi-

Securities and Exchange Commission, and Environmental Protection Agency)

Assessing ACA Results

Table 2. ACA performance data

Prevention, ethics, asset

Argentina ACO 1784 investigations started. 99.9% compliance rate by

Prevention, ethics, asset

Malaysia ACA (1999) 413 investigations.

Ethics policy guidance, compliance review, and scrutiny of asset declara-

underlines the importance of clear standards in this area, and of explaining

We now return to our illustrative anti-corruption agencies to see how well

civic cooperation. For example, some 16 Deputy Public Prosecutors are

building played a role. Lacking a strong independent political base, PCB’s

any explanations as to why a complaint was not pursued, if ICAC deems

Only matters with the potential to expose significant and/or systemic

ICAC has an Assessment Panel that makes the initial determination as to

investigator, by requiring the central bank to refer suspicious transactions to

citizens. Also, the Freedom of Information Act applies, imposing a duty on

16. Interviews by Luigi Manzetti.

to their justice authorities. This is true of other agencies, although some of

17. Comments by Roberto de Michele.

Complementary Institutions and Conditions

18. New Vision, 26 April 2002, Kampala, www.igg.go.ug.

Assessment and Conclusion

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