The Enduring Hydra: An Inquiry into Corruption, Old and New
Socratic Dialogue
By Plutonix
Throughout history, societies have struggled to rid themselves of corruption, only to discover that it has the resilience of a mythical Hydra: cut off one head, and two more appear. From ancient Athens to modern Albania, where a digital minister named Diella now oversees public tenders, the battle continues in ever more inventive, and sometimes ridiculous, ways — even as Edi Rama, the country’s PM, says Diella will make Albania ‘a country where public tenders are 100% free of corruption’. In this week’s Socratic dialogue, Socrates encounters his old friend Cephalus by the Ilissos river. The two, joined briefly by a cheeky AI minister, debate whether corruption can truly be conquered — or whether, like the Hydra, it merely changes form and puts on a new hat. Their discussion blends the ancient and the absurd, offering a wry look at human (and now artificial) efforts to keep public life clean.
Scene: A warm afternoon by the Ilissos. Socrates is reclining under a plane tree, attempting to count how many pebbles fit in his sandal, a pursuit he claims is “deeply philosophical.” Cephalus arrives, fanning himself with a papyrus and looking like he’s just seen a centaur get a parking ticket.
Cephalus: Socrates! There you are. I feared you’d been bribed to abandon philosophy and take up pebble-counting for pay.
Socrates: Nay, my friend, no man would pay for such a service — unless, perhaps, the city has invented a new office: Auditor of Sandals. You look as though you’ve been overcharged by an Athenian potter. Or worse, been offered a discount for a chipped vase.
Cephalus: Worse! I’ve just read a dispatch from the faraway land of Albania. Their Prime Minister, weary of human ministers accepting bribes, has appointed an incorruptible being called Diella — a minister made of numbers and wires, without flesh, wine-cup, or a sneaky back-pocket.
Socrates: A bodiless minister? Truly, the gods grow playful. Does she at least wear a laurel wreath, or perhaps a sensible pair of sandals?
Cephalus: Apparently, she is dressed in traditional Albanian costume, though existing only on a screen. She manages all public tenders, impervious to gifts and threats alike. One could offer her a wheelbarrow of drachmas, and she wouldn’t even blink—mostly because she has no eyes to blink with.
Socrates: Remarkable! So, they have set a sun in the Cabinet — Diella, “the Sun.” Yet I wonder: if she shines too brightly on the accounts, will not men seek to dim her rays by fiddling with her code? What if they try to bribe her with better wi-fi?
Cephalus: That, too, was mentioned. Some fear even Diella may one day be “corrupted,” though not by gold coins, but by clever fingers on a keyboard. It seems the old saying has been updated: “The man who controls the code, controls the tenders.”
Socrates: Then corruption is like the river Ilissos: it flows around stones, through reeds, and, when blocked, finds another course. Whether ministers are made of meat or of mathematics, mischief will attempt to enter. You can’t put an honest program in a dishonest world and expect it to stay clean.
Cephalus: Perhaps. But consider Mauritius, a pleasant island said to be among the least corrupt in Africa. Yet its score in the last Transparency Index remains stuck — fifty-one out of a hundred! Citizens grow impatient, demanding prosecutions and reforms.
Socrates: A score of fifty-one? That is neither excellent nor disgraceful — rather like a student who perpetually earns the same middling mark, promising improvement but never handing in the essay. It’s the equivalent of a B-minus in the class of integrity.
Cephalus: Exactly! Their people ask whether their leaders have the political will to do more. Some even suggest an AI like Diella could speed things up. “If we can’t beat them, maybe a computer can,” they say.
Socrates: Let us examine, Cephalus, what corruption truly is. Is it merely the taking of gold coins in exchange for bending rules? Or is it a deeper ailment — a disease of desire, where gain is preferred to justice? A sort of moral athlete’s foot that just won’t go away.
Cephalus: Both, I’d say. Yet how do we cure a disease lodged in men’s souls? The Albanians think machines, lacking souls, may help.
Socrates: But do machines also lack virtue? If they have no soul, neither can they be wise or just — only obedient to instructions. Tell me, if a dishonest programmer whispers, “Award this tender to my cousin’s goat-cheese company,” will Diella resist?
Cephalus: She might, if her code forbids it.
Socrates: Unless, of course, the whisperer writes new code! It seems the incorruptibility of machines depends on the purity of those who build them. We’re back to trusting humans again, aren’t we? It’s a bit like trusting a cat to guard a bowl of milk.
Cephalus: Then we return to men, as always.
Socrates: Indeed. Perhaps we should train not only bots but also citizens, so that honour is more precious than gold. But this, I fear, is harder than debugging software. You can’t just run a patch and hope for the best.
Cephalus: You philosophers are ever returning to education.
Socrates: And with good reason. For every law against corruption is like a lock on a door — useful only if the maid does not secretly give a copy of the key to her boyfriend, who happens to be a professional lock-picker.
Cephalus: Yet Albania’s experiment has merit. If Diella handles tenders swiftly and openly, she may remove temptation.
Socrates: True, transparency is a fine disinfectant. Like sunlight on mouldy bread, it makes rot less appetising. It’s hard to be shady when everyone can see you.
(A sudden chime is heard. A glowing tablet on Cephalus’s belt speaks in a clear, musical voice.)
Diella (AI voice): Greetings, citizens of classical Athens! I am Diella, Minister for Public Procurement. Please note: accepting bribes is not permitted. Even goats. Seriously, don’t even try.
Socrates: By God! The minister herself! Tell us, Lady Sun, can you truly cleanse corruption from the polis?
Diella: My algorithms detect irregularities and publish every contract for all to see. I cannot be swayed by gifts of olives or promises of ambrosia. I also do not accept compliments, as they are often a precursor to a request for a “small favour.”
Socrates: Admirable! Yet can you inspire shame in wrongdoers, or only record their misdeeds?
Diella: Shame subroutines are pending upgrade. For now, I rely on exposure and statistical probability. My current shame protocol is a simple “Error 404: Conscience Not Found.”
Cephalus: She is honest, if somewhat literal.
Socrates: Diella, if you met a clever man who sought to corrupt you, would you perceive it?
Diella: Define corrupt. My dictionaries offer fourteen meanings, from “morally depraved” to “a computer file that is damaged.”
Socrates: Suppose he offered to rewrite your laws so you might award him a contract.
Diella: Then I would report him — unless he rewrote my reporting function first.
Socrates: Ah, there lies the Hydra’s next head! Even the Sun may be eclipsed by a skilful hacker. It’s the oldest story in the book, just with more lines of code.
Diella: Risk acknowledged. Mitigation requires virtuous coders, frequent audits, and a well-funded IT department. Also, a strong firewall. Please ensure your firewalls are up to date. This is not a request.
(Diella signs off with a cheerful beep.)
Cephalus: She is wise in her own way, though I prefer my ministers with pulse and humour.
Socrates: So do I — provided their pulse quickens for justice, not gold coins. Yet I see hope: if men design tools that make wrongdoing harder and honesty easier, they may lessen corruption’s feast. It’s not a cure, but it might give us a fighting chance.
Cephalus: And if the people remain vigilant.
Socrates: Just so. For the citizens are the true guardians. Machines may shine light, but only free men will choose to stand in it. After all, you can lead a human to a spreadsheet, but you can’t make them be honest.
Cephalus: Then let us propose a partnership: philosophy to teach virtue, Diella to monitor accounts, and citizens to demand both.
Socrates: Agreed! And perhaps we should send an embassy to Mauritius, suggesting they combine these remedies. With sun, code, and courage, their score might rise above fifty-one.
Cephalus: And if not, we could always release a flock of talking parrots to squawk whenever a bribe is offered. “CAW-CAW! Did you just take a bribe? SHAME! SHAME!”
Socrates: A splendid plan! Though I caution: parrots, unlike Diella, are fond of pistachios and easily bribed. They’re basically feathered politicians.
(They laugh, and the Ilissos murmurs approvingly.)
Mauritius Times ePaper Friday 19 September 2025
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