Why do anti-crime campaigns so often fail? Because they target the masses while the powerful joke about corruption. Uncovering a radical theory backed by centuries of British history: true social order is not built from the bottom up, but from the top down. When honesty starts at the peak, it inevitably washes away the crime at the bottom.
The timeless principle of moral integrity and responsibility in leadership dictates a simple, unyielding truth: reform fails when leaders expect virtue from the governed but not from themselves. This is not merely a philosophical ideal but a practical blueprint for social order, as demonstrated by a profound historical lesson from Britain, a nation that transformed itself from a den of corruption into a bastion of relative integrity. This transformation offers a crucial model for nations like Ceylon, now Sri Lanka, grappling with similar social evils. The central argument is both powerful and clear: corruption and crime are not separate problems but different manifestations of the same social disease. Crime is often just corruption that has trickled down the social scale. The solution, therefore, is not to focus policing on the masses but to instill honesty at the pinnacle of society. When leaders become men and women of honour, that integrity cascades through every layer of the social fabric, and crime begins to wither away. This is the story of how Britain engineered this turnaround and the actionable path it illuminates for others.
A perplexing dichotomy exists in how society perceives crime and corruption. Though corruption is often a crime in itself, few connect the two as different aspects of the same social evil. Popular perception conveniently categorizes crime as a reprehensible characteristic of the working classes, a problem to be put down by a police force. Corruption, however, at least on a sufficiently grand scale, is treated as a middle class affair about which people make knowing jokes. The Colombo Municipal Bribery Commissioner correctly identified a core issue: the absence of a strong public opinion against bribery and corruption. This observation extends beyond simple bribery to other forms of influence peddling, whether it is asking a Minister for a favour, cheating on an examination, or writing a personal letter to a university contact to request favourable consideration for an applicant. This class based distinction is not unique to Ceylon. Consider that it took England thirty years of persistent propaganda to convince car owners that dangerous driving was not just a technical crime but a morally wrong act, despite a car being a more dangerous weapon than a knife. Similarly, embezzlement by a director is often seen as less reprehensible than larceny by a clerk. The measures proposed to combat crime in Ceylon reveal this ingrained bias, focusing overwhelmingly on the masses: banning the poor man’s alcohol, forbidding the carrying of knives, strengthening the uniformed police, and organizing literacy campaigns. These actions assume crime is a problem originating from the bottom up. The theory advanced here is the opposite. Obedience to law depends in very large measure on the standards of social behaviour set by the wealthier and more educated classes. Britain serves as the perfect case study because it successfully tackled this problem. Its current state, where both crime and corruption are at reasonably low levels, was not always so. A hundred and fifty years ago, public life in Britain was thoroughly corrupt, and crime was so rampant that London was considered the worst city in Europe. This historical fact demolishes any argument that integrity is a racial trait; it is a cultivated social convention.
To understand this analysis, one must define the terms of class as used in this context. The term middle classes is used in the English sense, encompassing what Ceylon would call both the upper and middle classes. The traditional English upper class has faded in Britain and never truly existed in Ceylon. The term the masses is largely applicable only to the Ceylonese context. While Marx and Engels provided classic class analyses, the British class system was already evolving into a graduated scale, a class curve, rather than a rigid division. In Ceylon, however, a clearer division persists between the classes, meaning the English educated, and the masses. In Britain, everyone from Ministers and Members of Parliament to Civil Servants are counted among the people, whereas in Ceylon, such figures are distinctly separate from the masses. Consequently, crime is seen as an affair of the masses and is treated as reprehensible, while corruption is an affair of the classes and is often treated as a joke. The history of English corruption is well documented. The stern excesses of Puritanism under the Commonwealth produced a reactionary wave of corruption during the Restoration. Figures like Oliver Cromwell and Samuel Pepys came from similar backgrounds, but Pepys’ method of job hunting vividly illustrates the adage, What matters is not what you know but whom you know, a saying familiar in Ceylon. This Restoration corruption was refined into a fine art under Walpole and Pelham, leading to the unreformed British constitution being dubbed Old Corruption. This, in turn, provoked another reaction. The Puritan strain persisted among groups like the Quakers and was joined by a strain of enlightened patriotism embodied by Chatham, Pitt, Burke, and Charles James Fox.
This movement then intersected with a religious awakening. The corruption of the Church, immortalized in the song The Vicar of Bray, was challenged by a new religious movement originating in Cambridge and Oxford. This movement splintered into several influential strains. The Clapham Sect, for instance, inspired Wilberforce to fight the Slave Trade and Pitt to begin cleaning up government corruption. This energy led, on one hand, to reformers like Peel and Gladstone who continued Pitt’s work, and on the other, to figures like Shaftesbury who advocated for factory workers. Another strain produced the Oxford Movement and a revival of Roman Catholicism. While these were middle class movements, their followers took their mission into the slums. Crucially, the Methodist Movement, though middle class in origin, spread rapidly among the working classes, merging with remnants of Puritanism to create the powerful political force known as the Nonconformist Conscience. Gladstone himself was a product of these crosscurrents, shaped by the Oxford Movement but becoming the political voice of the Nonconformist Conscience. Simultaneously, the public school system was being reformed by great headmasters like Arnold of Rugby, who had clear connections to Oxford Evangelicalism. These institutions instilled a tradition of integrity, symbolized by the much mocked but influential old school tie, a tradition later adopted by secondary and primary schools. Beyond religion, intellectual movements contributed to the cleanup. The utilitarian philosopher Jeremy Bentham, who decided professors often talked nonsense, inspired disciples whose influence reached as far as Ceylon through figures like Colebrooke and Cameron. Radical thinkers like Tom Paine, Francis Place, Richard Cobden of the Anti Corn Law League, and Carlile, a champion of a free press, acted as an efficient collection of brooms. By the time Gladstone became Chancellor of the Exchequer, the public service was well on its way to its renowned integrity, and he finished the job.
Electoral corruption proved more stubborn. The Parliament of 1841 was known as the Bribery Parliament. Peel showed immense character by defying his own majority and breaking his party, an act that brought the strength of the Peelites to the cause of reform. The Corrupt and Illegal Practices Act of 1853 was drafted by someone who clearly knew all the tricks: personation, bribery, treating, undue influence, and the use of hired transport and canvassers. Each subsequent election grew cleaner, and election petitions became increasingly rare. The key insight from this history is that corruption began to diminish before crime was seriously tackled. Pitt and Burke started reforming the administration before the crime wave peaked after the Napoleonic Wars. It was Bentham who highlighted that the fault often lay not with the people breaking the laws, but with the people making them. Henry Fielding began reforming court administration before the laws themselves were overhauled. The explanation is straightforward and logical. If the master is a rogue, will not the servants become rogues? If the secretary takes commissions, will not the clerks cook the accounts? If the clerks cook the accounts, will not the labourers engage in pilfering? If the squire evades taxes, will not the tenants poach pheasants? If the rector is negligent, will the parishioners follow the Ten Commandments? In other words, corruption ran down the social scale and mutated into crime. When honesty was established at the top, it naturally filtered down to the bottom. Crime began to disappear precisely when corruption began to disappear.
The fundamental difficulty in addressing crime is that it is viewed negatively. The focus is on stopping the masses from disobeying laws, rather than on positively persuading the people to obey social conventions. Bribery is rare in England not because people are unwilling to participate, but because there is a critical mass of honest men with a strong sense of social responsibility. These are the people who will not hesitate to pick up the phone and report a crime. The police are effective because they have the overwhelming support of the population. A law cannot be enforced if it is not obeyed; it will not be obeyed if the conventions of civilized society are not respected; and those conventions will not be respected by the underprivileged if they are flouted by the over privileged. Therefore, reform must begin at the top, as it did in England. The annals of British history are filled with examples of leaders who prioritized principle over power. The elder Pitt, Lord Chatham, went to the House of Lords while dying to defend the American cause. William Pitt the Younger resigned when the King blocked Catholic emancipation. Edmund Burke lost his seat in Bristol for refusing to seek special privileges for his constituents. Charles James Fox stood against war hysteria. Robert Peel was ousted for repealing the Corn Laws to feed the Irish, against his own party’s interests. William Gladstone fell on his sword for Home Rule. These men may have been wrong on specific issues, but they were undeniably honest men, men of honour. Their dramatic stands were less important than their daily adherence to integrity. They, along with countless lesser known individuals, dismantled Old Corruption and made Britain a law abiding nation. While crime and corruption still exist, they are the exception, not the rule. If this connection between high level integrity and low level crime holds true in England, it must also hold true in Ceylon, for human nature is universal. The essential aim, then, must be to reform social conventions among the classes as much as, if not more than, among the masses.
The evidence of defective social conventions in Ceylon is undeniable. Election tribunal judgments and multiple Bribery Commission reports paint a clear picture. One Commission concluded that bribery and corruption had become so widespread that most people treated them as inherent in society. These commissions found that grants were secured via political sponsorship, officials were lobbied by members on behalf of private interests, and witnesses suppressed evidence out of fear of politicians. Leakages of examination papers are a known issue, with a disturbing lack of public outrage against those who would use pirated copies. Examining bodies must operate on the assumption that candidates are dishonest, requiring stringent anti cheating measures. Leakages from government departments are so routine they are ignored, and officials who try to prevent them are accused of being muzzled. The constant attempts to seek favours and apply influence persist even when it is made clear that no favours will be granted. These are not mere allegations but documented facts. Furthermore, when it was casually alleged that many Ceylon students are dishonest, the response was often jokes or caustic remarks, not condemnation. This attitude, that boys will be boys, is precisely the problem. If elders treat dishonesty as a joke, the young will treat it as acceptable. If dishonesty is considered not cricket, it becomes socially taboo.
The atmosphere in Ceylon today bears a significant resemblance to the era of Old Corruption in Britain, as chronicled by figures from Pepys to the cynical journalist Labouchere, or Labby. Yet, even as Labby wrote, Old Corruption was fading, replaced by the often rigid but earnest moral code of Victorianism. If English experience is a guide, reform must start with politicians, not because they are more important, but because they are under the brightest spotlight. While universities like Cambridge and Oxford could have produced many reformers, it was often the accident of birth or circumstance that propelled figures like Pitt, Peel, and Gladstone into leadership. The widened franchise makes political integrity even more critical today. It can be easier to influence votes, a genteel euphemism for corruption, than to earn them legitimately. When this influence is used, it becomes a powerful advertisement for corruption in all walks of life. A crucial point of democratic theory needs emphasis. A Member of Parliament is not a delegate sent to secure perks for his constituents at the public expense. He is elected because his policy views are acceptable to the voters. His role is to decide on matters of national welfare, not to act as a procurement officer for local roads, bridges, or wireless sets. Edmund Burke articulated this doctrine perfectly, and though he lost his seat for his principles, his statue now stands in the city that rejected him. While an MP can help decide if wireless sets should be state provided and how they should be distributed, he is the last person who should decide which parish gets one. He has an axe to grind; his re election depends on votes. The temptation to send the set to a politically loyal parish, rather than the neediest one, is immense. Morally, there is no difference between giving a wireless set to secure votes and giving cash bribes; it is merely bribery using public funds. English history demonstrates that politicians should be kept out of administration because the pressures they face make them inherently untrustworthy in such roles. Elected members must criticize administration, and ministers must ensure their staff administer fairly, but the right to criticize is not a right to administer, for a politician is, by definition, a partisan.
The religious movements that purified British public life may not be directly replicable in multi religious Ceylon, where the dominant faiths are not aggressively propagandist. However, if it were consistent with Buddhist principles for the Sangha to act as moral censors, its influence across most of the country would be profound. Even Buddhist and Hindu laymen could wield great influence if they were led by apolitical individuals without personal agendas, focusing on changing social conventions rather than laws. The old adage remains true: you cannot legislate people into goodness. The Nonconformist Conscience worked not because preachers became politicians, but because politicians and voters were permeated by Christian social ideals. There is always a danger, as Labby pointed out with his quip about Gladstone, that politicians will cynically adopt a facade of piety for public consumption. Universities and schools are slower, more gradual instruments of change, but their cumulative effect is profound. Oxford and Cambridge served as bastions of scholars who condemned corruption and sent generations of graduates into the world with sound ethical traditions. The public schools trained young men for leadership in good citizenship. A school or university’s tone cannot be too far ahead of the society from which its students come, nor should it produce prigs. However, it is entirely possible to rapidly improve the ethical tone of an institution, as student generations turnover quickly. The University of Ceylon, while not yet ideal, has shown progressive improvement, a process that should accelerate as it moves away from Colombo’s influence. Better schools have maintained their traditions despite recent challenges. It is remarkable how often a student recommended for a job requiring honesty turns out to be a product of one of these better schools. As new schools establish themselves, they should emulate these older traditions. This plan may seem vague, but it is precise in its allocation of roles for politicians, moral advocates, universities, and schools. It demands a concerted, positive campaign. It will likely take a generation or two to succeed, but a reduction in corruption will automatically trigger a reduction in crime.
A persistent and convenient myth is that crime and corruption are linked to poverty and the standard of living. This is a form of self deception, an excuse for inaction. Honesty does not correlate with wealth; if anything, the relationship can be inverse. In Britain, Methodism began reforming the moral character of labourers and factory workers while the middle classes were still largely corrupt. This was a movement of ideas, not economics. Corruption is a disease of the middle class and bureaucracy, not a product of malnutrition. It is not inherent to capitalism; in fact, it can flourish more easily in a state controlled bureaucracy where toadyism, not honesty, is often the best policy for career advancement. The fight against corruption does not require a utopian society or a famous champion. The story of a young graduate in an unnamed country proves this. He gathered his friends, devised a plan to clean up his corrupt city, sought advice, and years later authored a book describing its success. That city remains a model of good governance. The path is clear. It requires not wealth, but will. It starts not with the masses, but with a commitment to integrity at the very top, creating a ripple effect that eventually cleanses the entire society.
