My worldview of ethics was once simple – do the right thing, always, especially when no one is watching. It was an unshakable principle, ingrained in me by a traditional upbringing where cultural, moral, and spiritual values were intertwined seamlessly. Between home and school, I was carefully guided toward understanding what was acceptable, what was honourable, and what was just. I believed in these principles with the certainty of youth, and I carried them into adulthood with the quiet confidence that right and wrong were absolute.
Then, at eighteen, I stepped into the world of work. And over the past eighteen years, as I moved through roles in both the public and private sectors, I found myself confronting realities that were neither black nor white, but instead blurred into endless shades of grey. I witnessed ethical dilemmas I had never imagined, decisions made in boardrooms that carried silent consequences, and justifications that eroded integrity, one small compromise at a time.
In my early years, I clung to the belief that ethical culture should be rooted in clear principles of right and wrong. But experience has a way of unraveling youthful absolutes. Is taking home a few extra pens from work the same as an executive refusing to shortlist a candidate because she lived in Laventille? On the surface, they seem worlds apart. But both touch the domain of integrity – the quiet, invisible force that separates ethical behaviour from moral decay. Integrity is, after all, obedience to the unenforceable, and if I wished to live by the standards I once held so firmly, I had to recognize that ethics is not just about calling out wrongdoing in others, but confronting it within myself.
In 2009, I joined an organization that champions social and cultural causes. Over the years, I have held several leadership roles, learning firsthand that governance and ethical leadership are not just concepts – they are responsibilities. I have come to understand that ethical struggles exist even in spaces dedicated to noble causes, where good intentions can sometimes be clouded by personal ambition, self-interest, or fear of conflict. Still, I have fought to honour the foundational values of the organization, not just because they are written into policies, but because they reflect the kind of world I want to help create.
Yet, despite my efforts, I cannot ignore the crisis of leadership that permeates our society. The world has become complicated and competitive, and ethical lines are easily blurred when legality is mistaken for morality. Power, influence, and personal gain often overshadow duty, and too many leaders – whether in politics, business, or even community spaces – are tempted to do what is permissible rather than what is right.
For me, ethics is not just a personal philosophy; it is a guiding principle in every choice I make. Just as I strive to be ethical in my own decision-making, I expect the same from the companies I support, the organizations I trust, and the institutions that shape our daily lives. A society that upholds ethical values is one that can sustain trust, demonstrate respect, and remain consistent with justice.
Ethics is not just a rulebook – it is the compass that should direct us when everything around us is pulling us in a different direction. And though the world may test us, though the lines may blur, I choose to stand firm. Because in the end, what we stand for, and what we refuse to compromise, defines not only who we are but the kind of world we leave behind.
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