Corruption rarely a sudden leap, more often a gradual psychological journey

Whenever news breaks that a senior official has been investigated or imprisoned for corruption, the public's reaction is often predictable: anger, criticism, and sometimes even satisfaction.

My own reaction is different. After more than two decades of interviewing over 200 convicted officials in Chinese prisons, I rarely get a feeling of triumph when a corrupt official falls. What I feel most often is regret.

Many of these individuals were once respected public servants. They had promising careers, enjoyed the trust of their communities, and benefited from years of organizational training and support. Yet somewhere along the way, they lost sight of their original mission.

The question that haunted me throughout these interviews was surprisingly simple: If they knew what they were doing was illegal, why did they do it?

The answer is never greed alone. Contrary to popular belief, corruption seldom begins with a suitcase full of cash. It starts with small compromises that seem harmless at the time.

Time and again, former officials shared similar stories. At first, they did not see themselves as corrupt. A dinner with an old classmate. A favor for a friend. An introduction to a businessman. A gift accepted out of courtesy. None of these actions appeared to constitute wrongdoing.

Only later did they realize they had become like a frog in slowly boiling water — unable to notice the risk as it gradually intensified until it was too late.

Corruption is rarely a sudden leap. More often, it is a gradual psychological journey. Effective anti-corruption efforts require addressing three different dimensions of human behavior.

The first is making corruption impossible. Strong institutions, transparent procedures, and effective oversight reduce opportunities for abuse.

The second is making corruption dangerous. When violations are consistently punished, the cost of misconduct rises.

But the third dimension is the most important and the most difficult: making people unwilling to be corrupt.

The first two dimensions depend largely on external constraints. The third depends on internal restraint.

A society achieves its greatest protection against corruption not when people fear punishment, but when abusing power becomes morally unacceptable.

This distinction matters. Fear can prevent misconduct when someone is watching. Conscience prevents misconduct even when nobody is.

Unfortunately, power itself sometimes weakens conscience. Many psychological studies have shown that individuals who possess authority tend to overestimate their own judgment, become less sensitive to criticism and increasingly believe that normal rules should not apply to them.

Power creates distance. Distance reduces accountability. And reduced accountability increases temptation.

This pattern appears across political systems, cultures and historical periods. Corruption is not uniquely Eastern or Western. It is fundamentally human.

One of the strongest drivers of corruption is social comparison. One imprisoned official complained bitterly that a small contractor he had once helped secure a project eventually became far wealthier than he was.

A former judge asked me why a lawyer who had attended the same university could earn more from a single case than he would earn in a lifetime.

Behind such thoughts lies a powerful psychological force: resentment.

When individuals feel that their sacrifices are not adequately rewarded, corruption can begin to appear not as theft but as compensation.

The most dangerous stage often emerges through relationships rather than transactions. Businesspeople who seek influence rarely begin by offering bribes. Instead, they offer friendship.

They organize dinners, introduce useful contacts, provide emotional support, and create an atmosphere of mutual trust. The immediate goal is rarely money. The long-term goal is access.

Many imprisoned officials later described these encounters with deep regret.

One told me he believed he was simply having dinner with old friends. "If I had known I was being drawn into a network designed to cultivate influence, I would have refused."

But human beings are social creatures and rejecting an invitation from an old friend is difficult. Accepting it feels natural.

But what begins as friendship can eventually become dependency. What begins as reciprocity can evolve into corruption.

Over the years, I have observed three particularly vulnerable stages in an official's career.

The first occurs around age 29, when young professionals face mounting pressures: marriage, housing costs, children's education, career advancement, and financial insecurity.

The second emerges around age 39, when many officials have accumulated substantial authority but begin to worry that their political advancement has stalled.

The third is the well-known "age 59 phenomenon", when retirement approaches and officials fear losing status, influence, and the social attention that power provides.

One imprisoned official put it bluntly: "When you're in office, people line up outside your door. After retirement, nobody calls. If you were me, wouldn't you be anxious?"

His words reveal a painful truth. For some officials, corruption is not simply about wealth. It is about insecurity, status, recognition, and fear of irrelevance.

This is why corruption should never be viewed solely as a legal problem.

It is also a psychological problem.

Laws can punish misconduct. Institutions can restrict opportunities. But lasting integrity requires something deeper: a public culture in which power is understood not as a privilege to be enjoyed, but as a responsibility to be exercised.

The fight against corruption is ultimately not just about catching those who go astray.

It is about ensuring that fewer people begin that journey in the first place.

The author is a professor of criminal psychology at the School of Sociology, China University of Political Science and Law, a special guest of CCTV's Legal Report and a video content creator.

The views don't necessarily reflect those of China Daily.

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