A simple, selfless dissent for integrity

One of this year’s most influential people on TikTok and YouTube does not see himself as an influencer. He is Thích Minh Tuệ, a middle-aged man who adopted a humble, ascetic life a few years ago and began to walk barefoot up and down Vietnam. He lived in forests with few clothes and accepted alms from strangers, practicing a Buddhist way of frugal simplicity.

In May, he became an internet phenomenon. Admirers began to post videos of him along his pilgrimage, inspiring millions. While disavowing any attempt at virtue signaling, he nonetheless was widely seen as an exemplary model, especially in comparison with the lavish lifestyles of top officials. Vietnamese were particularly irked when the minister of public security was caught on camera eating gold-encrusted steak at a London restaurant three years ago.

In June, at the strong advice of police, Thích Minh Tuệ disappeared from public view. “His real crime was his humble lifestyle that stands in such stark contrast to the corruption scandals that have rocked Vietnam,” wrote Zachary Abuza, professor at the National War College in Washington, for Radio Free Asia.

Thích Minh Tuệ’s story reflects a bubbling debate among corruption fighters around the world about whether to focus less on corruption itself and more on the intrinsic integrity and honesty of people. “There have been growing calls for a renewed focus on the central role of values, ethics and integrity in controlling corruption,” stated a 2022 report by the watchdog Transparency International.

One example for this rethink is Vietnam’s official anti-corruption campaign, known as “blazing furnace.” Over the past decade, the ruling party has snared nearly 200,000 people, including top party leaders, on graft charges. Rather than ending corruption, however, the campaign has enhanced the perception that corruption is intractable and widespread. Many Vietnamese also believe the campaign was mainly used to target political rivals and keep the party in power. 

Such “weaponization” of anti-corruption efforts is common in many countries. It has slowed a multidecade, international campaign to fix institutional weaknesses that allow corruption. Those weaknesses include low salaries for public workers, lack of transparency in government, and no protection for whistleblowers.

Nonetheless, the newer tactic of appealing to people’s integrity is growing, according to Transparency International. In more than a dozen countries, programs now reward officials as “integrity icons” for preventing practices like bribery. More professions, especially in finance, require an “integrity oath,” like the Hippocratic oath for doctors. In more than 30 countries, officials and bidders on contracts are asked to agree on an “integrity pact” that sets high standards for public procurement.

Transparency International says some scholars have lately argued that “integrity is not simply the inverse of corruption but a more expansive concept that ‘involves doing the right thing in the right way.’” Perhaps it was the “right way” practiced by Thích Minh Tuệ – his solitary observance of a simple, selfless life – that made him such a social media star.