Adaora Onaga
A few months ago, I received an email that stayed with me. It came from an adjunct professor who had taught at our campus at Pan-Atlantic University for a session. What he described was, on the surface, a simple incident: he had misplaced some personal items earlier in the day but realised it late in the evening, around 10:30 pm. The way the matter unfolded revealed something much deeper than a lost package. It revealed a culture. And in that culture, I saw once again the quiet but profound transformative power of an ethical campus.
Allow me to share parts of his email, adapted slightly to preserve his privacy:
“At around 10:30 PM, I went downstairs to my car, convinced I had left my items there. When I found nothing, panic set in. I rushed to the campus gate and explained my predicament to the security officer on duty. After swiftly confirming my identity, he instructed an officer to accompany me back to the classroom. Seeing my distress, the officer calmly assured me that if we didn’t find them tonight, a CCTV scrutiny the next morning would help.
I sat down, took a breath, and retraced my steps. I remembered chatting with a student earlier, so I called her. She recalled seeing a large envelope in the seating area near the student cafeteria where I had waited for her. I rushed to the spot. There, in the quiet of the night, the package sat, completely intact. What a great relief.”
The email continued by noting that what made this moment remarkable was not simply that the items were recovered. It was the moral atmosphere that made recovery possible. The security personnel were professional, calm, and dutiful. The students on campus, though they might easily have taken the package, were evidently shaped by a different set of values that prized honesty over opportunism and responsibility over mischief. The university leadership, by setting and sustaining a culture of contentment, safety, and focus, had created conditions in which ethical behaviour could flourish. And the staff, through their welcoming and careful treatment of visitors, reinforced the same message that this is a place where people matter, where order matters, and where integrity is not an abstract ideal but a lived practice.
This professor’s experience is not an isolated incident. For first-time visitors to PAU, the signs of an ethical campus are often striking, precisely because they contrast so sharply with societal norms. That email was remarkable precisely because it described what should be normal, yet too often feels extraordinary in our wider society. Other examples that I can add include that we have a campus where books are left outside the chapel for anyone to take, use, and return on trust. A campus where punctuality is taken seriously, so that university events begin on time and participants can plan their day with confidence. A campus where university leaders are treated with simplicity and respect, not with eye service or ego-driven performance, and they lead with a spirit of genuine service. A campus where a “giving wall,” created by a former student, allows people to pay it forward for a meal without knowing who will benefit. A campus where shared spaces are left better than they were found. Each of these practices may seem small in isolation, but together, they create something deeply transformative. They give us hope. They prove that it is possible to recreate an oasis of peace, honesty, and community within a wider society that often feels chaotic.
Of course, an ethical campus is not a perfect campus. It is not a place without failings, temptations, or exceptions. Like every institution, it must continually onboard newcomers and repeatedly remind them of its values. There will always be outliers, those who forge documents, cheat in examinations, resist accountability, or behave against the spirit of the community. But the power of an ethical campus lies in this very tension. Because the culture is strong, the exceptions remain exceptions.
In the end, the greatest work of a university is not only to transmit knowledge but to shape persons. When a campus becomes ethical in its daily practices, it becomes a teacher in itself. It quietly but powerfully forms the conscience of all who pass through it. And that may be one of the most hopeful contributions any institution can make to a society in need of trust, character, and renewal.
To those who know our campus, whether as alumni, current students, staff, or visitors, I am sure you have your own stories. What signs of an ethical campus have you experienced at PAU? I invite you to share them in the comments section and help us fill in the gaps.