It is almost touching how predictable the world has become. You wake up, you drink your coffee, and you read about a man who was paid to protect a country being accused of robbing it instead. It gives you a sense of stability, doesn’t it? The sun rises in the East, and a general gets charged with corruption. Nature is healing.

This week, the stage for our little tragicomedy is Malaysia. The headline is simple enough, but the flavor is rich with irony. We are looking at a former chief of the armed forces—the top dog, the big boss—being hauled into court. He has been slapped with four corruption charges. And here is the punchline: he is the second former general to face the music in just one week. Two generals in seven days. At this rate, they are going to need a dedicated bus lane just to transport military brass to the courthouse.

Let’s look at the facts, shall we? We aren’t making this up; reality is funny enough on its own. The man in the spotlight is a former four-star general. He stood there, presumably in a nice suit rather than his old uniform, and pleaded not guilty. of course, he did. In the history of power and money, has anyone ever walked into a courtroom on day one and said, “Yes, I took the cash, my bad”? No. That would be too honest for politics. Instead, we get the usual dance. The denial. The shock. The outrage that anyone would dare question the integrity of a man who has so many medals.

But let’s dig a little deeper into this “crackdown.” The current Malaysian government, led by Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim, is on a crusade. They call it a fight against corruption. It sounds lovely, like a detergent commercial. “We wash out the stains of the past!” But to a cynical eye—and my eyes are very tired—it looks a lot like the usual cycle of power. One group gets in, and suddenly the old group starts getting arrested. It is a tale as old as time. In Europe, we used to use guillotines for this sort of thing. Now, we use lawyers and slow-moving court dates. It is cleaner, I suppose, but much more boring to watch.

The specific allegations usually revolve around the same boring things. Money. Favors. Contracts. It is never anything creative. You never hear about a general accepting a bribe in the form of rare tropical birds or a collection of vintage comic books. It is always just cold, hard cash or bank transfers. It is remarkably dull. You would think men who spent their lives studying strategy and warfare would come up with better ways to hide their tracks, or at least more interesting things to steal.

There is a deep irony in the military getting caught in this net. These are the people sworn to defend the nation's sovereignty. They are the shield. But it seems the shield was made of gold, and someone wanted to melt it down for pocket money. When the people responsible for discipline and order are the ones breaking the rules, what message does that send to the guy selling noodles on the street? It tells him that rules are just suggestions for people who can’t afford better lawyers.

And let’s not forget the timing. Why now? Why two generals in a week? It feels like a clearance sale. “Everything must go! All corrupt officials 50% off!” It creates a spectacle. The public watches the news and thinks, “Ah, finally, justice is being served.” They feel good for a moment. But does it change anything? Does the price of rice go down because a general went to jail? Does the traffic in Kuala Lumpur get better? No. The theater of justice plays on, but the roof of the theater is still leaking.

The saddest part is the predictability of the outcome. The trial will drag on. There will be appeals. There will be medical leaves where the accused suddenly develops a mysterious back pain that prevents them from sitting in a chair. We have seen it a thousand times. The initial arrest is a firework show—loud, bright, exciting. The actual legal process is like watching paint dry in a humid room.

So, here we are. Another week, another general, another charge. The Malaysian anti-corruption agency is working overtime, sweating through their shirts to catch the big fish. But in the ocean of global politics, there are always more fish. As long as there is power to be sold, there will be a buyer. And as long as there are generals who think they are above the law, there will be cynical women like me sitting here, sipping tea, and saying, “I told you so.”

It is a messy business, cleaning up a country. You lift up a rug to sweep, and you find a general. You open a closet, and another general falls out. It would be funny if it wasn’t so expensive for the taxpayers.