For some, obtaining a residence permit, passing a school exam, getting a promotion, or getting access to training, humanitarian aid, or basic public services can come at the price of their bodily integrity. Across the world, we see how sex is demanded as a currency by those in power in exchange for exercising their authority. From Tanzania, where there are some male lecturers who consider sex from female students as an entitlement in return for grades, to Sri Lanka, where military widows were asked to engage in sexual acts to obtain documentation for housing loans or the salaries of their late husbands, to Sweden, where a migration officer of an LGBTQI rights organisation coerced newly arrived asylum seekers into sexual acts, the pattern is disturbingly familiar.

We know, from countless examples like these, that sexual corruption is prevalent in the real world. Yet legislation to address it is scarce, and the number of cases reported remains extremely low.

UNCAC Resolution 10/10: Recognising the unique nature of sexual corruption

In 2023, the 10th session of the Conference of the States Parties to the United Nations Convention against Corruption (UNCAC) took a historic step by adopting Resolution 10/10, which for the first time explicitly acknowledged sexual corruption. The Resolution explicitly

Two years on, it is time to ask: what has happened since the Resolution was adopted, and what can we learn from countries’ experiences?

In line with Resolution 10/10, efforts to raise awareness of sexual corruption have intensified. Research and broader conversations are gradually shaping a shared global understanding of sexual corruption as the abuse of entrusted authority conditioned on sex. This is an inclusive definition that can encompass both extortion and bribery.

While sexual corruption is beginning to attract attention in research and policy circles, it is clear that in practice it often remains unpunished and even unrecognised. The need to acknowledge sexual corruption as a distinct and particular form of corruption, as Resolution 10/10 stresses, is still frequently neglected. When prosecuted as an ‘ordinary’ bribery offence, in most jurisdictions both the ‘giver’ and the ‘receiver’ risk being criminalised – despite the power and authority held by the perpetrator over the victim. By treating both parties as offenders, such laws obscure the power imbalance and risk punishing victims. At its core, sexual corruption is not merely a transaction; it is an act that also violates a person’s bodily integrity. It is the abuse of authority that renders the victim vulnerable. This underscores the need for comprehensive, ‘do no harm’ legal frameworks: systems that support victims rather than criminalising them, accounting for the unique dynamics of sexual corruption.

Globally, however, such measures remain scarce. The UNGASS 2021 political declaration included a commitment by the States Parties to mainstream gender equality and women’s empowerment in legislation and policy development. Building on this, UNCAC Resolution 10/10 encourages countries to take measures to close potential legislative gaps in addressing sexual corruption. Legal experts recommend adopting specific legislation for sexual corruption.

To better understand progress and challenges related to closing legislative gaps, we will take a closer look at recent efforts to tackle sexual corruption in Tanzania, Sri Lanka, and Sweden. The three countries have all attempted to tackle the legal aspects of sexual corruption in the past few years. They demonstrate, in different ways, that beyond general commitments in Resolution 10/10, addressing sexual corruption requires attention to its specific, complex, and contextual manifestations.

Tanzania: A promising start – and a worrying development blocked

Tanzania stands out as one of the few countries with an explicit sexual corruption provision. Section 25 of the Prevention and Combating of Corruption Act (PCCA) criminalises sexual corruption, targeting any person ‘in a position of power or authority’ who conditions the exercise of that authority by demanding or imposing ‘sexual favours’. Notably, while Section 15 of the same Act criminalises monetary bribery and punishes both the giver and the receiver, Section 25 takes a different approach: it focuses solely on the perpetrator, the person abusing their position of authority. This distinction is crucial in addressing the inherent power imbalance in sexual corruption cases.

However, in 2024 an amendment to this Section was proposed that raised concerns among anti-corruption and gender activists. It sought to add a subsection to Section 25 that would criminalise anyone who ‘promises, gives, or offers sexual favour’ to a person in authority ‘to influence him to exercise his authority’ in exchange for a service or preferential treatment (a job or promotion, for example). This would have reversed the positive intent of Section 25, as it risked criminalising the victim. The amendment would have meant that all individuals involved – both giver and receiver – could be punished, without considering the power imbalances at play. Or it could even have let perpetrators off the hook entirely, by allowing them to shift the offence on to victims if they refused to offer sex in exchange for their rights.

The proposed amendment may have been a misguided response to the Resolution’s call to treat abuse of power in exchange for sex as corruption. If that were the case, it overlooked another central point of the Resolution: that sexual corruption is not just corruption in general, but a particular form of corruption. The Tanzanian interpretation of Resolution 10/10 highlights the risk of simply adding sexual corruption to an existing corruption framework without careful consideration for its particularity. In the face of strong objection through local and international mobilisation, the proposed amendment was rejected by the Tanzanian National Assembly.

The Tanzanian case teaches us that hard-earned progress in combating sexual corruption should not be taken for granted. There need to be constant reminders that sexual corruption cannot be treated as any other form of corruption, and that the risk of silencing victims should not be seen as legal progress.

Sri Lanka: Recognition without protection

Sri Lanka’s new Anti-Corruption Act (2023) now lists ‘sexual favours’ as a form of bribery (the Act uses the term ‘gratifications’). On paper, this is progress, but the law does not distinguish between the person in authority and the victim. The Act criminalises any person who offers (‘gives, affords or holds out, or agrees, undertakes or promises to give, afford or hold out’), solicits (‘demands, invites, asks for, or indicates willingness to receive’), or accepts (‘takes, receives or obtains, or agrees to take, receive or obtain’) a bribe in any form. This creates the same risks as Tanzania’s defeated amendment, discussed above: criminalising the victims of sexual corruption.

A recent case – concluded under Sri Lanka’s previous Bribery Act, in which there was no provision on sexual corruption – highlights the central role of judicial interpretation in trying these offences. In this case, the judge strongly condemned a government officer for soliciting sexual bribes from a woman in a vulnerable position in the course of his official duties. The perpetrator was sentenced to 20 years’ imprisonment. While the new law will allow courts to explicitly recognise sexual corruption, judges’ interpretation will remain the most important factor in determining whether the law will protect or penalise victims.

This inclusion of provisions on sexual corruption that fail to differentiate between perpetrator and victim is not unique to Sri Lanka. It reflects a wider global pattern in which victims are at risk of being criminalised rather than protected.

Sweden: Recognising abuse of power, but not sexual corruption

In Sweden a 2025 government inquiry proposed amendments to criminal legislation on corruption and official misconduct, emphasising the abuse of public position and authority. The report recognises – for the first time in a Swedish context – sexual corruption and acknowledges Resolution 10/10.

However, it does not recommend identifying sexual corruption as a distinct category of corruption, nor does it recommend specific legislative provisions to address it. It proposes merging the offences of giving and receiving a bribe into a single provision called bribery, the implication being that that sexual corruption would also be dealt with as a form of bribery, with both giver and receiver criminalised.

To treat sexual corruption as bribery ignores the fact that sex is unlike any other currency in corruption. The inherent power imbalance in sexual corruption is ignored, and if this proposal becomes law it would further victimise those affected and drive continued underreporting. As with the rejected amendments to the Tanzanian legislation, the Swedish case shows the danger of treating sexual corruption as a simple add-on to a corruption framework, and the need to carefully consider the consequences of acknowledging it as a particular form of corruption.

Moving forward: Law as a shield and a signal

Across these examples, a key lesson emerges: legal recognition of sexual corruption is essential, but only if it does no harm. Tanzania, Sri Lanka, and Sweden are at different stages of the legislative process, yet the focus seems easily to slip away from the abuse of authority and on to the victim. A do-no-harm approach to legislative reform can enable reporting and accountability for sexual corruption without deterring victims through fear of prosecution. This requires a maintained and consistent focus on the abuse of entrusted power throughout the legislative process.

Resolution 10/10 opened the door for a gender lens in anti-corruption. The next step is ensuring that laws worldwide protect victims, deter abuse, and strengthen trust in public institutions.