When Laws Become Worthless

Democracy is the union of freedom and accountability.

An old Mongolian proverb says: “When laws turn to brass and decrees become mere paper.” In Mongolian, khuuli means law, while guuli means brass—a metal that may resemble gold but is worth far less. The proverb describes a society in which laws exist formally but lose their practical meaning because they are not enforced.

Thirty-six years after Mongolia’s democratic transition, this warning remains relevant.

We have competitive elections, a multiparty parliament, constitutional institutions, private property, and a market economy. Yet laws are not always applied equally. Major cases involving public assets remain unresolved for years, while political connections continue to raise concerns about privileged economic opportunities.

Why? What the International Indices Tell Us

According to Transparency International’s Corruption Perceptions Index, Mongolia scored 39 out of 100 in 2015, ranking 80th among 168 countries. By 2025, its score had fallen to 31, placing it 124th among 182 countries. Although the index measures perceptions rather than actual corruption offenses, the ten-year deterioration is troubling.

The World Justice Project’s 2025 Rule of Law Index ranked Mongolia 67th among 143 countries, with a score of 0.53 out of 1. While the overall score has remained relatively stable, certain measures of judicial independence and protection against improper government influence have weakened.

These figures are not merely international statistics. They help explain why citizens and businesses question the predictability and fairness of Mongolia’s institutions.

Laws Exist. But Who Enforces Them?

Nobel laureate Douglass North described institutions as the rules of the game in society. Laws, regulations, and contracts are formal rules. Traditions, personal relationships, and informal networks influence how those rules operate in practice.

Mongolia has plenty of laws. What remains questionable is their consistent enforcement.

Daron Acemoglu and James A. Robinson distinguish between inclusive institutions, which provide broad opportunities, and extractive institutions, which concentrate political and economic benefits among a privileged few. Together with Simon Johnson, they received the 2024 Nobel Memorial Prize in Economic Sciences for research on institutions and prosperity.

Mongolia exhibits elements of both.

Citizens can vote, speak freely, own property, and establish businesses. Yet opaque political financing, questionable management of public assets, and discretionary government decisions continue to undermine confidence in equal opportunity and fair competition.

Consider the parliamentary hearings into the Development Bank, coal transactions, education fund, and state-owned enterprises.

They attracted enormous public attention. Documents were disclosed, witnesses questioned, and accusations exchanged.

But what happened afterward?

Which cases were investigated? Who was prosecuted? What responsibility was established? Most importantly, what institutional changes followed to prevent similar misconduct?

The effectiveness of parliamentary hearings should not be measured by how loudly politicians speak, but by the decisions implemented and the accountability achieved.

Erdenebilegism: More Than One Man

In three previous articles, I examined what I called Erdenebilegism: the intersection of political power, financial influence, and government decision-making.

This concerns more than one businessman. D. Erdenebileg, an owner of the Mongolia’s Trade and Development Bank, has been the subject of considerable public controversy. It concerns the institutional conditions that may allow private interests to influence public authority.

According to earlier reports, Erdenebileg deposited MNT 3 billion as bail and received permission to travel abroad for medical treatment for two weeks. Reports subsequently suggested that he remained abroad for years before recently returning.

What happened to the bail? Were the conditions fulfilled? What decisions did the authorities make? Where is the money now?

The public deserves answers supported by official records.

No individual should be presumed guilty without due process. Equally, state institutions must explain their decisions and their implementation within the limits of the law.

Other cases raise related but distinct questions.

Oyu Tolgoi highlights the importance of transparent negotiations, contractual stability, and predictable dispute resolution. The Khan Resources dispute illustrates the consequences of licensing decisions and international arbitration for property rights.

Meanwhile, international reporting on alleged fraud involving approximately $1 billion, connected to Lex Oil, a petroleum importer, has attracted attention abroad but comparatively limited sustained public discussion in Mongolia.

International media have also periodically reported separate allegations concerning the acquisition of real estate in the United States by two former Mongolian prime ministers. Yet Mongolian authorities have provided little clear public explanation of the status or outcomes of these matters.

These cases differ substantially. Each requires independent examination of the EVIDENCE, legal proceedings, institutional responsibilities, and outcomes. They should not be presented as proof of identical wrongdoing.

Ulaanbaatar’s land allocation controversies raise another set of questions. Who receives valuable urban land, on what grounds, and through what procedures? Can citizens challenge those decisions effectively?

Behind these cases lies a fundamental question: Does the law apply equally to everyone, and are those exercising authority held accountable? Or have laws turned to brass and decrees become mere paper?

Replacing Leaders Is Not Enough

Mongolian politics often treats replacing one official with another as reform.

But what changes when new leaders inherit the same discretionary powers, incentives, and weak accountability mechanisms?

Changing personnel without changing institutions may reproduce the same failures. Yet changing laws without holding those responsible for proven misconduct accountable is equally insufficient.

Mongolia must change the rules—and hold those who violate them accountable. How?

First, every major parliamentary hearing should produce a publicly accessible record of its findings, referrals, recommendations, implementation, and unresolved issues. Citizens must know what happens after the television cameras are switched off.

Second, political party financing, public procurement, land allocation, and major decisions of state-owned enterprises must become transparent and independently verifiable.

Third, judicial and prosecutorial independence must be strengthened alongside professional accountability. Information about proceedings and decisions should be accessible wherever the law permits.

Fourth, property rights, contractual obligations, and fair competition must be protected against arbitrary government decisions. Citizens and businesses need effective access to impartial courts.

Finally, institutional performance should be measured not by the number of laws adopted, agencies created, or officials replaced, but by how consistently laws are enforced and rights protected.

Mongolia does not necessarily need a bigger state. It needs a capable state that performs its essential duties fairly, predictably, and effectively.

Democracy is more than voting every four years. It requires informed public participation before decisions are made, scrutiny afterward, and lawful accountability when power is abused.

Mongolia’s next stage of development cannot depend merely on replacing political leaders.

We must establish fair rules, strengthen the institutions that enforce them, and ensure that anyone who violates those rules faces appropriate consequences under the law.

Strong institutions are the foundation of a prosperous Mongolia.