Thank you for listening to Power Corrupts. We make this show because we think it's important not to make money,

but it does cost money to make episodes. If you want to help us stay editorially independent,

please consider supporting our work in one of two ways.

First, pre-order my new book, Corruptible, Who Gets Power and How It Changes Us,

which comes out on November 9, 2021.

It's an exploration of the bizarre fascinating ways in which humans relate to

power that ranges from everything from corrupt beehives to the time I took a ski lesson with a man who

once ruled Iraq. If you like this

podcast I promise you love the book. Second, join a community of

supporters and get access to exclusive bonus content by going to Patreon.com slash power corrupts.

For just three dollars a month you'll get access to early episodes and at different tiers

you can get bonus content like uncut interviews as well as the possibility of a

Zoom meet and greet with my producer George and myself. If you don't support the

show I'll be forced to bombard you with ads about socks and job recruitment schemes and mortgage websites and nobody wants that.

But seriously, thank you for listening and for your support. Friday, February 5th, 2016, was a day like any other in Bangladesh's capital, Dhaka, a city of 18 million people.

Bicycle Rickshaws battled with cars at chaotic intersections. Food vendors

prepared to roe shrimp cabs for lunch as they hocked breakfast flatbreads

to pedestrians. And even though Friday is the first day of the weekend in Bangladesh,

Zuber bin Huda was on his way to work, covering a weekend shift at the Bangladesh Central Bank.

Benhuda took the elevator up to the ninth floor and like other morning, he walked back to check on the

overnight activity in the bank's computers, checking the system and looking over the

printouts that were spit out automatically as transactions took place when

...