We live in a time when ethics often feels more like a buzzword than a benchmark. Especially in recent years, it has become a headline grabber, frequently quoted but rarely practised. From scandals to whispered cover-ups, society has good reason to doubt whether ethical behaviour nowadays, is anything more than a well-placed line on a CV or a polished talking point for the sake of compliance with the Companies Act.

But let us not confuse everyday evasiveness with the true morally compromised: these are not employees who once claimed their Teams microphone was not working to avoid answering a tough question. No, the morally compromised, are those who knowingly operated in ways that broke ethical principles. The executive who massaged the numbers until they told a more flattering tale. The public official who did not just wink at corruption; they sent it flowers and asked it to stay for dinner. The Minister who did not merely trip over red tape; they tangoed through the loopholes of our supposedly just society, as if impunity were part of the choreography.

The question that lingers, uncomfortably so, is this: can someone who has already crossed ethical lines, even boldly, ever learn to live on the right side of the line again, or will they forever be branded by their past?

Here is the crucial part, ethics is not just a value we uphold, it is a skill we practice. It is a way of thinking, choosing, and reflecting, and yes, it can be learned. Even by those who once treated ethics like optional fine print. But like any skill, it requires intention, effort, and a good deal of discomfort.

Psychologist Lawrence Kohlberg famously described moral development as a staged journey, from rule-following to reasoning based on broader human values. But this journey does not unfold automatically with age. It depends on confronting difficult situations, engaging in honest conversations, learning from credible role models, and creating environments that encourage reflection, not just ticking off ethics checklists.

For those already ethically compromised, the journey looks very different. Ethics training for someone with a clean slate is like learning to swim. For someone already in trouble, it is like trying to float after nearly drowning. The stakes are higher, the footing unstable, and the mind needs a complete reset. To make this shift, the following three things are essential:

1. Sincere acknowledgment

No growth can happen without honesty. “Everyone else was doing it” or “I didn’t have a choice” will not cut it. Ethical learning starts with taking full accountability, even when it is uncomfortable or publicly costly. Half-apologies will not clear the slate, and polishing your public image does not count as restitution.

2. Safe but honest reflection

People need spaces where they can unpack past choices without immediate judgment, but they also need to be challenged. Ethical growth does not come from being shamed into silence, but it also does not come from sugar-coating real harm. There is a fine line between reflection and rehearsing your comeback tour.

3. Belief in moral redemption

Perhaps the hardest part is believing it is still possible to do better. Ethical reform depends on the belief that a different way of being is within reach. Without that, people either fake their change or stop trying altogether.

You cannot spin your way to virtue

Learning ethics is not a way to erase the past. The past demands its price, and redemption without accountability is nothing more than rebranding. But ethical growth, when grounded in humility, transparency, and sustained behavioural change, is possible. It may very well be the only thing left that can restore our faith in one another.

Ultimately, ethical redemption is possible, but it is a hard, slow process that begins with facing the truth and deliberately choosing a different path. In a world hungry for ethical leadership, it is possible that we need not only those who have remained unblemished; but also need those who have stumbled, accepted the consequences, and resolved to earn their future.

Those who have stood in the wreckage of their own damning decisions often carry a deeper understanding of wrongdoing than anyone untouched by consequence ever could. Perhaps, in a world needing honest reckoning, it is not perfection we should seek, but evidence of moral courage and revived wisdom, forged in the only way failure knows how. That is the kind of people South Africa needs.

Dantia Richards is the Governance and Communications Executive at The Ethics Institute.