The Locust Effect

The Locust Effect Plot Summary

Introduction

In a small church in Rwanda, amidst the aftermath of genocide, a UN investigator made a discovery that would forever change our understanding of global poverty. As he documented mass graves where nearly a million people had been slaughtered in just weeks, he realized that at their moment of greatest need, these victims didn't require food, education, or medicine—they needed someone to stop the machetes. This insight revealed a hidden dimension of poverty that rarely makes headlines: the epidemic of everyday violence that crushes the world's poorest. For billions of people living in developing countries, violence isn't an occasional tragedy but a daily reality that prevents any hope of escaping poverty. While the global community has mobilized impressive resources to fight hunger, disease, and lack of education, we have largely overlooked how common violence—sexual assault, forced labor, land theft, and police abuse—systematically destroys development efforts. Through intimate stories of survivors and rigorous analysis, this book explores not just the devastating impact of this "locust effect," but also the promising solutions emerging in communities around the world that prove change is possible.

Chapter 1: Colonial Origins: Justice Systems Designed to Control (1800s-1950s)

When we examine why criminal justice systems fail the poor in developing countries, we must look back to their colonial origins. During the 19th and early 20th centuries, European powers established law enforcement structures across their colonies that were fundamentally designed not to serve local populations, but rather to protect colonial interests and maintain control over subjugated peoples. These systems were never re-engineered after independence to serve a different purpose. In British colonies, police forces were modeled after the Royal Irish Constabulary—a paramilitary force created to control the "unruly" Irish. When this model was exported to India through the Indian Police Act of 1861 and later to Kenya and other colonies, it created police forces that functioned essentially as occupying armies. Officers were armed, lived in separate barracks away from local communities, and operated with military-like command structures. Their primary mission was to suppress resistance to colonial rule and protect European settlers and businesses, not to serve indigenous communities. Colonial powers also imposed their languages—English, French, Spanish, or Portuguese—as the official languages of the courts, creating immediate barriers for local populations. In Malawi, for instance, the legal system operates in English, which only one percent of the population understands. This means many judges, magistrates, and court personnel don't fully understand the language they're working in. From the moment the first syllable is uttered in court, the common poor are rendered deaf and mute in their own justice systems. Perhaps most damaging was the deliberate underdevelopment of indigenous legal talent. Colonial powers restricted legal education for locals and limited their roles within the justice system. When independence finally came to these nations in the mid-20th century, many lacked sufficient numbers of trained police officers, prosecutors, judges, and lawyers to operate functional justice systems. In Ghana, at independence in 1957, there were fewer than 15 native lawyers in the entire country. The colonial legacy created justice systems designed to control rather than serve, to punish rather than protect. This foundation continues to shape criminal justice in the developing world today, where police forces still often function more as instruments of state control than as protectors of public safety, and where courts remain inaccessible to ordinary citizens. Understanding this historical context helps explain why violence against the poor persists with such devastating consequences.

Chapter 2: The Locust Effect: How Violence Destroys Development

In 1875, the American Midwest experienced the greatest locust plague in human history. Trillions of locusts descended on 200,000 square miles, devouring everything in their path—crops, fence posts, even the wool off sheep's backs. Families who had worked for years to build farms and futures saw everything destroyed in hours. Many starved to death despite previous government assistance, neighborly cooperation, and their own hard work. The locusts rendered all other efforts meaningless. This historical disaster provides a powerful metaphor for understanding how violence undermines poverty alleviation efforts today. Just as the locusts devoured everything the Midwestern farmers had built, violence systematically destroys the progress that poor people and development organizations work so hard to achieve. Providing Laura with education is futile if sexual violence makes it too dangerous for her to walk to school. Offering Caleb job training makes little difference if police arbitrarily imprison him for years without trial. Teaching Susan agricultural techniques is pointless if she's violently thrown off her land. The scale of violence against the poor is staggering. One out of three women worldwide has been beaten, forced into sex, or otherwise abused in her lifetime, with rates even higher among poor women. Studies show that 49% of Ethiopian women, 48% of Ugandan women, 62% of Peruvian women, and 35% of Indian women will be assaulted. Beyond sexual violence, modern slavery entraps millions. There are more slaves in the world today—an estimated 27 million—than were extracted from Africa during 400 years of the transatlantic slave trade. The economic costs of this "locust effect" are equally devastating. The World Bank has found that high rates of criminal violence can reduce a nation's economic productivity by 2-3% of GDP annually, with some studies estimating costs as high as 7.8%. In Guatemala, violence costs an estimated $2.4 billion annually—more than twice the damage of Hurricane Stan. Violence generates significant multiplier effects: lower human capital accumulation, reduced labor market participation, decreased productivity, higher absenteeism, lower incomes, and reduced savings and investment. Beyond these direct economic costs, violence inflicts devastating psychological trauma. Victims of slavery, forced prostitution, and sexual assault develop debilitating conditions similar to those experienced in war zones. Post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, and substance abuse become widespread, yet mental health resources in poor communities are virtually non-existent. This invisible destruction of human potential may be the greatest catastrophe of all. The locust effect is particularly devastating for the poor because they are both more targeted by violence and more vulnerable to its effects. Unlike the wealthy, they cannot afford private security or bribes for protection. Even relatively small losses from violence can be catastrophic for families living on the edge of survival. The loss of a breadwinner to imprisonment, a tool to theft, or land to seizure can mean the difference between subsistence and starvation for an entire family.

Chapter 3: Broken Enforcement: When Protectors Become Predators

The criminal justice "pipeline" in developed countries functions as an interconnected system: police investigate crimes and apprehend suspects, prosecutors present evidence in court, judges determine guilt and appropriate penalties, and prisons carry out sentences. While imperfect even in wealthy nations, this pipeline generally delivers basic protections against violence. For the poor in developing countries, however, this pipeline is not merely broken—it actively works against them. Police forces in the developing world suffer from three devastating problems. First, most officers receive virtually no training in criminal investigation. In India, 85% of police are constables with no investigative training whatsoever. Without basic skills, police resort to torture to extract confessions, slap and threaten victims rather than interview them properly, and fail to collect or preserve evidence. Second, corruption is endemic. As poverty expert Charles Kenny notes, "extortion and bribery are the expected norm" in interactions with police in developing nations. This corruption means the poor are priced out of protection while perpetrators can purchase impunity. Third, resources are desperately scarce. While Washington, DC spends about $850 per person annually on policing, Bangladesh spends less than $1.50. This translates to one officer per 1,800 citizens in Bangladesh compared to one per 250 in the United States. These officers lack basic equipment—transportation, phones, computers, evidence collection kits—and earn wages so low they can barely survive without accepting bribes. Within countries, these scarce resources are disproportionately allocated to protect elites and tourists rather than poor communities. The prosecution segment of the pipeline is equally dysfunctional. In Malawi, ten prosecutors handle cases for a population of 15 million, with a backlog of 1,500 serious felonies including 900 murder cases. The Philippines has one prosecutor for every 60,000 citizens, creating case delays of 5-10 years. This overwhelming caseload means prosecutors can only meaningfully handle cases where victims hire private lawyers to do the work—an impossibility for the poor. Courts complete this broken pipeline. Judges are scarce, overburdened, and often corrupt. In Cambodia, there is one judge for every 50,000 people. Court proceedings frequently occur in languages the poor don't understand, without defense counsel, and with arbitrary procedures. Cases are routinely adjourned because files are lost, witnesses don't appear, or judges are absent. The result is that innocent people like Lackson in Malawi languish in prison for years without trial while violent perpetrators walk free. Perhaps most troubling is how this broken system has led to a thorough privatization of justice for elites. While the poor remain trapped in dysfunctional public systems, those with wealth have established parallel private systems where private security forces provide the protection that public police cannot. In India, the private security industry employs over 5.5 million people—roughly four times the size of the Indian police force. In Guatemala, there are nearly seven private security guards for every public police officer. This privatization creates a devastating cycle where influential elites have little incentive to improve public justice systems, leaving the poor increasingly vulnerable.

Chapter 4: Historical Transformations: Justice Reform in Western Nations (1850-1950)

The dysfunctional criminal justice systems we observe in developing countries today bear striking similarities to those that existed in America and Europe during the 19th century. Understanding how these Western nations transformed their own broken systems offers valuable insights into the potential for change elsewhere. In the United States of the 1890s, police corruption was endemic—from the chief who made millions providing private services to criminals, to precinct captains who borrowed hundreds of thousands from criminals to purchase appointments in bribe-rich districts. Police brutality was rampant and unchecked, with the chief openly stating: "There is more law at the end of a policeman's nightstick than in all the decisions of the courts." The courts were equally dysfunctional, described by experts as "corrupt, inefficient, and ineffective" and "unequalled" as "producers of travesties upon law and justice." Los Angeles in the 1870s saw rampant forced prostitution and commercial sexual exploitation of children. Brothel keepers and traffickers regularly paid bribes to judges and police. In one notorious incident, the mayor and police chief deputized a mob and supervised a pogrom against Chinese residents that resulted in 19 public murders, with no one brought to justice. Across America, there was a public mob lynching approximately once every third day. Yet from these broken beginnings, reasonably functional criminal justice systems emerged through intentional reform efforts. The transformation began with public outrage and political will. In the United States, progressive era reformers like Theodore Roosevelt (who served as police commissioner in New York) championed police reform as part of broader anti-corruption efforts. The Cincinnati police reforms of 1885, triggered by a voter fraud scandal, led to the dismissal of 80% of the force and the establishment of America's first police school. Professional leadership proved crucial to these reforms. Figures like August Vollmer (police chief of Berkeley, California) and Louis Lepine in Paris pioneered the application of scientific principles to policing and established the academic discipline of criminal justice. They advocated for merit-based hiring, standardized training, and the use of new technologies in criminal investigation. Importantly, these reforms also improved working conditions for officers themselves. Reforms included raising salaries to living wages, reducing unmanageable working hours, providing proper equipment and facilities, and establishing career paths within law enforcement. These changes reduced incentives for corruption while attracting better qualified candidates to police work. The results were remarkable. By 1922, a report on Cleveland's police force noted they were "singularly free from scandal and vicious corruption"—a tremendous advancement from the open corruption of previous decades. As police reformer August Vollmer observed in 1930: "In no other branch of government have such remarkable changes been made... One can hardly believe that such great advances could be made in so short a time." This historical perspective offers a powerful lesson: criminal justice systems that protect all citizens, including the poor and marginalized, did not exist anywhere until relatively recently. They were built through deliberate reform efforts in the face of entrenched interests and seemingly insurmountable challenges.

Chapter 5: Modern Success Stories: Georgia, Brazil, and the Philippines

While the challenges facing criminal justice systems in developing countries are formidable, several nations have achieved remarkable progress in recent years, demonstrating that meaningful reform is possible even in the most challenging environments. Georgia's transformation of its police force stands as perhaps the most dramatic success story. Prior to 2003, Georgia ranked among the most corrupt nations in the world, with police demanding bribes in 7 out of 10 transactions. The situation changed dramatically following the Rose Revolution, when newly elected President Mikheil Saakashvili campaigned on an explicit anti-corruption platform. In a bold move, the government fired all 16,000 traffic police officers in a single day and rebuilt the force from scratch. New recruits received competitive salaries (increased ten-fold), modern equipment, and professional training. Undercover officers were assigned to ensure the new police followed rules, with zero tolerance for corruption. The results were stunning—by 2010, Georgia's police were viewed as less corrupt than those in Germany, France, and the UK. Crime rates dropped dramatically, with armed robberies reduced by 80 percent and 95 percent of residents reporting feeling safe. Brazil has made significant strides in combating modern slavery through innovative enforcement mechanisms. The country's Special Mobile Inspection Groups conduct surprise investigations on estates suspected of using slave labor, rescuing victims and imposing fines on perpetrators. Between 1995 and 2010, these units freed over 38,000 workers from conditions of forced labor. The Ministry of Labor also publishes a "dirty list" that publicly names and shames employers using slave labor. These efforts have been complemented by awareness campaigns and partnerships with civil society organizations, gradually weakening the culture of impunity that previously protected exploitative employers. In the Philippines, targeted efforts to combat sex trafficking in Cebu City demonstrate how focused interventions can produce measurable results. A project led by International Justice Mission in partnership with local authorities transformed law enforcement's response to child sex trafficking. The initiative included specialized training for police, prosecutors and judges; creation of dedicated anti-trafficking units; establishment of victim-friendly processing centers; and sustained public awareness campaigns. Over four years, these efforts increased victim rescues by approximately 1,000 percent and reduced the availability of children in commercial sexual establishments by 79 percent. Common elements emerge across these success stories. First, each required strong local leadership and political will—reforms were not imposed from outside but championed by committed local leaders. Second, they addressed both the technical aspects of criminal justice (training, resources, procedures) and the underlying incentive structures that drive corruption. Third, they built coalitions that included government agencies, civil society organizations, and international partners. Finally, they focused on achieving visible, measurable results that could build public confidence in the reform process. These examples powerfully refute the notion that dysfunctional criminal justice systems in developing countries are simply cultural inevitabilities or too entrenched to change. As former Georgian Prime Minister Nika Gilauri observed, "Corruption is not a culture; it's a choice." When political will combines with smart strategies and adequate resources, transformation is possible even in the most challenging environments.

Chapter 6: Building Justice for the Poor: Pathways to Transformation

The path to building criminal justice systems that work for the poor requires a fundamental shift in how we understand and address violence in the developing world. The evidence from successful reforms points toward several key pathways that can guide future efforts, even in the most challenging contexts. Collaborative casework represents a particularly promising methodology. This approach involves working a critical mass of individual cases through the entire criminal justice "pipeline"—from initial report through investigation, prosecution, and eventual resolution. By walking alongside victims and authorities through real cases, reformers can precisely diagnose where systems break down and develop targeted solutions. In Huánuco, Peru, the human rights organization Paz y Esperanza used this approach to transform the response to sexual violence. By handling hundreds of sexual assault cases and documenting specific failures at each stage, they identified key breakdowns—from inadequate evidence collection to judicial corruption. This diagnosis led to targeted interventions, including specialized training for police and prosecutors, and ultimately resulted in over 150 convictions of sexual predators in a region where successful prosecutions had previously been virtually non-existent. Improving the working conditions and professional status of justice system personnel is equally crucial. Reforms in Georgia demonstrated that paying police officers living wages, providing adequate equipment and training, and creating professional career paths dramatically reduced corruption. Similarly, in Sierra Leone, police reform efforts included leadership training and the creation of specialized Family Support Units to address domestic violence, improving both police effectiveness and public trust. These examples confirm that treating justice system personnel with respect and providing them with the tools to succeed is essential for sustainable reform. Technology and innovation can accelerate reform when appropriately deployed. Mobile courts in the Democratic Republic of Congo have extended justice to remote areas previously beyond the reach of formal legal systems. In Kenya and Uganda, paralegals trained by organizations like Namati provide basic legal services in communities where lawyers are scarce. In India, police performance monitoring systems implemented in Rajasthan improved response times and public satisfaction. These innovations extend the reach of justice systems while building accountability. International partnerships can provide crucial support when aligned with local ownership. The Department for International Development's justice sector programs in Sierra Leone combined police reform with broader initiatives to strengthen courts and build community engagement. The Open Society Foundations have supported legal empowerment programs across multiple countries. These partnerships work best when they reinforce rather than replace local leadership and adapt to local contexts rather than imposing external models. Perhaps most importantly, successful reforms require building social demand for justice. Criminal justice systems do not naturally evolve toward fairness and effectiveness because powerful interests benefit from dysfunction. Reform requires mobilizing constituencies that demand change. In Brazil, civil society organizations like the Pastoral Land Commission played a critical role in building public awareness about forced labor and pressuring the government to take action. In the Philippines, media campaigns and community education efforts helped create public demand for anti-trafficking enforcement. These efforts transform justice from an abstract concept into a concrete public expectation. The evidence suggests that criminal justice reform is most effective when it combines multiple pathways—addressing both technical capacity and political will, both formal institutions and social norms, both professional incentives and public accountability. While the journey is neither quick nor easy, these evidence-based approaches offer realistic pathways toward justice systems that protect rather than prey upon the poor.

Summary

The locust effect represents a fundamental challenge to our understanding of global poverty. While the world has made remarkable progress in reducing extreme poverty, hundreds of millions remain trapped in conditions where everyday violence systematically destroys their hopes for advancement. This violence—sexual assault, forced labor, land theft, and police abuse—functions like the locust swarms that devastated American farmers in 1875, laying waste to all other efforts to improve lives. Without addressing this epidemic of violence, our investments in education, healthcare, economic opportunity, and other development priorities will continue to fall short of their potential. The path to overcoming the locust effect lies in building functional justice systems that actually protect the poor. This doesn't require perfect political conditions or massive resources—as demonstration projects around the world have shown, targeted reforms can dramatically reduce violence even in challenging environments. By training police in basic investigation techniques, ensuring prosecutors have manageable caseloads, making courts accessible to the poor, and engaging communities in the justice process, we can create systems that deliver on the promise of equal protection under law. The choice before us is clear: we can continue to pour resources into poverty alleviation while ignoring the violence that undermines these efforts, or we can finally address the locust effect and unlock the full potential of human development.

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Gary A. Haugen

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