Stealing from our own

I was recently speaking with a friend who shared a story that left me disturbed. Their apartment association was planning to install rain shields in the corridors and had collected quotations from multiple vendors. After careful negotiation, they secured the best possible rate. Yet within two days, the vendor who had offered the lowest quote increased it by 25%. When the matter was investigated, they discovered that a core association member had privately asked the vendor to raise the price. As my friend looked through older records, it became clear that this person, along with a few others, had likely siphoned off money in earlier projects as well. What shocked me most was not just the act itself, but the fact that corruption had reached a point where people were willing to steal from their own neighbours.

We often read about corruption in public life, but unethical behaviour in corporate spaces is hardly uncommon. Over the years, I have seen people from Procurement, Operations, Sales, Human Resources, Information Technology, Consulting, and Finance caught in misconduct and quietly asked to leave. In most cases, organisations avoid public comment, except in a few high-profile instances that lead to legal action. The same silence often exists in residential communities too. In my friend’s apartment, the individuals involved were not openly held accountable. That reluctance to confront wrongdoing allows such behaviour to survive and, in some cases, flourish.

Crossing the line

Some people who cross ethical lines rarely change unless they face real consequences. I remember a manager from my college days who had admitted to leaking a question paper. Out of compassion, he was given a second chance. Years later, that small act of dishonesty had grown into something much larger: he was booked by the Puducherry Police and Vigilance and Anti-Corruption authorities for allegedly cheating multiple aspirants of more than ₹40 lakh by promising them nursing jobs at a premier central institute. When dishonesty is ignored in its early stages, it can grow into a far more dangerous habit.

The same pattern is visible in everyday civic behaviour. I once saw a parent allow his son to urinate near a children’s play area even though common toilets were available nearby. When I tried to explain why it was wrong, the mother became defensive. What lesson does a child learn from that moment? This is not an isolated incident. We see many such examples around us—small violations of discipline, respect and shared responsibility. The Tamil saying “ஐந்தில் வளையாதது ஐம்பதில் வளையாது (What does not bend at five will not bend at 50).” captures this truth well: if values are not shaped in childhood, they are much harder to instil later in life.

Many large ethical failures begin as small compromises made early and left unchecked. Over time, authority, opportunity, and silence turn petty dishonesty into systemic corruption. It is easy to praise the discipline of other societies or forward inspirational stories on WhatsApp, but real change begins with the values we practice in our homes, institutions, and communities.

We must ask ourselves an uncomfortable question: are we carefully choosing the wrong people and sending them to the top without truly assessing their character?

(The writer is the author of Building Blocks: Lessons on leadership that I’ve learnt on my journey, and the founder of Prajna Consulting, a boutique consulting firm. Views are personal.)