By Habib Siddiqui (Based on information shared by senior public servants who requested anonymity)
Bangladesh’s citizens often imagine the Deputy Commissioner
(DC) as the state’s most powerful local guardian – the custodian of land, the
protector of consumers, the first responder in crises. But behind this idealized
image lies a quiet, corrosive truth that few outside the bureaucracy fully
grasp. A senior Bangladeshi diplomat recently wrote to me with a stark warning:
corruption at the district level is not merely tolerated – it is
structurally incentivized. His testimony echoed what a retired Police
District Commissioner, who later went on to become Deputy Inspector General of
Police, once told me: “The government does not even provide money for an extra
chair or table in an office, let alone tea and biscuits for visitors.
Everything must be arranged locally.”
When public administration is forced to finance itself through
unofficial means, corruption ceases to be a moral failure. It becomes a
survival strategy.
At the center of this dysfunction is a deceptively technical
mechanism: the Locally Raised (LR) Fund. As the diplomat explained, LR
funds were originally intended to give district administrations small, flexible
pools of money for emergencies. But in practice, they have become a parallel
revenue system – opaque, unregulated, and deeply compromising. The uploaded
document describes this with painful clarity: “The obsession with ‘raising
LR funds’ has become a perverse incentive structure… enforcement becomes
selective, not strategic.”
This is not an isolated complaint. It is a systemic
indictment.
LR funds are raised from local sources—licenses, leases,
fines, and what officials euphemistically call “contributions.” But the most
reliable contributors are rarely law-abiding businesses. They are the ones
operating in regulatory grey zones: food adulterators, illegal builders,
environmental violators, and traders who treat fines as operating costs.
As the document notes, “Clean businesses are rarely
lucrative for LR purposes; rule‑breakers are.”
This creates a dangerous symbiosis. The more unscrupulous the
business, the more valuable it becomes to the local revenue ecosystem.
Enforcement drives become theatrical shows – mobile courts appear, fines are
imposed, receipts are issued, and the same violations resume the next morning.
The message is unmistakable: pay and carry on.
A DC caught in this system becomes less an administrator and
more an accountant of compromise. Every enforcement decision carries a fiscal
consequence. Punishing a major violator today may mean losing a “reliable
contributor” tomorrow. As the diplomat wrote, “How does one demolish an illegal
structure when its owner has already supported the administration’s
discretionary expenses?”
The answer, too often, is silence, delay, or cosmetic action.
This is not about individual morality. Many DCs enter service
with integrity and idealism. But systems shape behavior more powerfully than
intentions. When the government does not provide even basic operational
expenses, officials must improvise. Improvisation becomes dependency.
Dependency becomes compromise.
The retired Police DC told me bluntly: “If a district office
needs a chair, a table, or refreshments for a delegation, the money must come
from somewhere. And that ‘somewhere’ is never clean.”
This is how corruption becomes ambient – everywhere and
nowhere at once. Not always in the form of bribes, but in the form of institutionalized
ambivalence. The uploaded document captures this perfectly: “LR funds become
the fig leaf behind which accountability quietly undresses.”
When the state forces its frontline administrators to self‑finance,
it also forces them to self‑corrupt.
The consequences are not abstract. They are painfully visible
in daily life:
- Food
adulteration persists, because the adulterators are major LR contributors.
- Illegal
buildings proliferate, because regularization is monetized.
- Environmental
laws are selectively enforced, because violators help fill the fund.
- Consumer
protection becomes a slogan, not a service.
As the document warns, “When citizens realize that rules
apply differently depending on one’s ‘contribution,’ trust in the state
evaporates.”
The public pays twice – first through degraded civic
amenities, and second through moral erosion. People learn, slowly and bitterly,
that rules are flexible if one knows whom to pay.
Bangladesh’s governance failures are often blamed on political
interference. But the diplomat’s testimony reveals a more insidious truth:
enforcement collapses not only because of pressure from above, but because of
revenue pressure from below.
A district office that must raise its own discretionary funds
becomes a toll booth, not a watchdog. Every enforcement action is weighed
against its fiscal impact. Every crackdown risks drying up a revenue stream.
Every act of integrity becomes administratively expensive.
This is why Bangladesh has no shortage of laws, regulations,
or action plans—but a chronic shortage of credible enforcement.
There is also a deeper psychological toll. Once an
administrator becomes dependent on LR collections, independence becomes costly.
Courage becomes inconvenient. Integrity becomes unaffordable.
The diplomat described this as a “moral paralysis.” A DC who
knows that decisive action will reduce future “cooperation” must constantly
choose between doing what is right and doing what is administratively feasible.
Over time, the feasible wins.
This is how good officers become compromised – not through
greed, but through necessity.
A National Wake‑Up Call
The diplomat who wrote to me did so with a clear purpose: to
alert Bangladesh’s civil society. He believes, rightly, that unless citizens
demand reform, the LR fund system will continue hollowing out local governance
from within.
The uploaded document ends with a stark question: “Do we
want DCs to be guardians of public interest, or managers of local cash flows?”
The two roles are increasingly incompatible.
If Bangladesh is serious about restoring administrative
credibility, it must confront the LR fund problem honestly and urgently.
What Must Change?
Three reforms are essential:
1. End the dependency on locally raised funds for
core administrative functions.
Enforcement, monitoring, consumer protection, and emergency
response must be funded transparently through central allocations — not through
local extraction.
2. Digitize, disclose, and audit all LR fund
sources and expenditures.
Sunlight is the best disinfectant. Every taka collected and
spent should be publicly visible.
3. Decouple revenue from regulatory leniency.
A DC’s performance must be measured by compliance achieved,
not money collected.
Good governance cannot coexist with bad incentives. As long as
district administrations are forced to finance themselves through morally
compromised channels, corruption will not merely persist – it will appear
rational.
The Choice Before Us
Bangladesh stands at a crossroads. It can continue with a
system where civic amenities are promised in policy but postponed in practice –
funded, ironically, by the very forces that undermine them. Or it can choose a
path where administrators are empowered to enforce the law without fear of
losing their operational budget.
The diplomat who wrote to me ended his message with a plea:
“If civil society does not demand change, nothing will change.”
He is right.
The time to demand that change is now.
About the author: Dr.
Siddiqui is a peace and human rights activist and the author of Bangladesh:
A Polarized and Divided Nation, a study of the country’s political and
social divides. He is also affiliated with Esho Desh Gori.
