Law Office Management
Jul. 2, 2010
The Rule of Law
Ten years after seeing the stark reality of corruption in Colombia, I am serving in Afghanistan as chief of anticorruption in the Judge Advocate General’s Corps.
Once upon a time I thought that corruption was a product of national weakness, or perhaps a cultural phenomenon prevalent in certain parts of the world, that made it much more difficult to establish any kind of rule of law. But then one sobering night in 2000 I found myself in one of Colombia's major poppy-growing regions, having dinner with three prominent citizens: the local police commander, who had a three-day growth of gray beard and a stooped figure; a dark-haired army general who sported a full mustache; and a Monsignor at the diocese who looked too young for his position. My job title back then was Deputy Drug Czar at the White House Office of National Drug Control Policy. So naturally, I wanted these men to tell me as much they could about the narcotics activity of the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Columbia (FARC) and its impact on the local area. I also wanted to know how these narco-terrorists had affected them personally. The Monsignor replied that he had been kidnapped twice and released with messages to be delivered from the rebel group. The general told me that the FARC had kidnapped the police commander's son and issued an ultimatum: Either back off the narco-traffickers, or your son will be killed. I looked at the police commander and asked what happened. He lowered his eyes, staring blankly at the table, and replied in a hushed voice, "He was killed." The words hit me like a fist to the face. The general then remarked: "O plata o plomo" - silver or lead. That was the choice the FARC gave to those whom it sought to enlist or intimidate. Often the "silver" bribe was about $1 million, and the lead bullets would be directed at a family member. When I tried to imagine myself and one of my sons in the place of the police commander and his son, any sense of moral superiority that I might have felt as an American immediately evaporated. Now, ten years later, I am back dealing with corruption issues on a daily basis in Afghanistan, a country ranked second only to Somalia in corruption. This time I'm a colonel in the Judge Advocate General's Corps, serving as chief of anticorruption with the NATO Training Mission. Among other things, I advise Afghan investigators and prosecutors on the rule of law. I can imagine my Western comrades laughing cynically over stories of incompetence and corruption. But none of us can really imagine how hard it might be to be a prosecutor surviving on $70 a month. (Police recruits in Afghanistan can make $240 a month.) Or what it must be like to be a judge on an eleven-member tribunal that is suddenly reduced to nine because two members were assassinated. In April I had lunch with a young naval officer colleague and an Afghan prosecutor who had tape recorded his bosses conspiring to accept a bribe in exchange for phony land transaction documents. After turning over the tapes to other prosecutors and a court, he was fired-and received death threats. This father of four obviously feared for his safety. He also had no idea how he was going to make a living. And his threadbare clothing bore testimony to his increasingly desperate plight. He pleaded with us to help him. Did we have a job, any job, for him? He had heard the U.S. Embassy was hiring Afghan lawyers - could we get him hired there? Sadly, we had neither a job nor any security to offer him. Frustrated, we promised to keep our eyes open and make inquiries, but in our hearts we knew that chances of actual support were slim. These experiences have made me realize how unbelievably fortunate I am to live in a place that is far from perfect, but where doing the right thing doesn't require such extraordinary sacrifice, and where the rule of law means something. This summer I will return to being a business litigator. And when I'm confronted by the judge who denies a motion that should have been granted; the adversary who employs an irritatingly cheap tactic; or the client who is aggravated by the plodding pace and expense of litigation - I hope I can hold back my frustration and recall the pain of those who try to survive in countries where recourse is limited or violent, and the rule of law is a fantasy. Tom Umberg, a former assistant U.S. Attorney, is a litigation partner in the Orange County office of Manatt, Phelps & Philips.
Kari Santos
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