How do we know that a person has changed?
There are questions to which neither the law, nor psychology, nor a lifetime’s experience can provide a definitive answer.
One of them is surprisingly simple.
How do we know that a person has changed?
Every day we use expressions such as “they have learned their lesson,” “they are no longer the person they were a few years ago,” “they have matured,” or, conversely, “they will never change.” We utter them with a certainty that gives the impression that a person’s transformation can be measured almost as easily as height or weight.
In reality, we have no instrument that can tell us with certainty where adaptation ends and authentic change begins.
An employer tries to find out whether a candidate who struggled in a previous job will act differently in their company.
A manager tries to decide whether it is worth giving another chance to a colleague who has made repeated mistakes.
A coach tries to distinguish between fleeting enthusiasm and genuine transformation.
A parent hopes that today’s rebellious teenager will become tomorrow’s responsible adult.
In all these situations, the question is the same.
Has the person changed, or only their behaviour?
The difference is far from insignificant.
Behaviour is easily modified when the environment changes. Almost all of us drive more carefully in the presence of a police patrol than on a road we know to be deserted. Almost everyone follows the rules more closely when they know they are being assessed. That does not necessarily mean their values have changed. It simply means they have understood the context in which they find themselves very well.
Authentic change is much harder to observe because it persists even when control disappears.
Perhaps that is why one of the most difficult decisions a judge must make is not to determine whether an act was committed—for that there are evidence, expert reports, statements, and procedural rules. Far more complicated is the moment when they must assess whether the person before them is ready to return to society. The law provides criteria, yet none can turn this assessment into a mathematical formula. Beyond conduct, work, participation in programmes, and all existing evaluations, the same question remains unavoidable: is the change we see profound, or merely an adaptation to the environment in which the person lives?
Surprisingly, the same dilemma arises daily in companies.
An employee follows all procedures. But do they do so because they understand their purpose, or because they know the manager is constantly checking?
A director delegates more than before. Have they learned to trust their team, or are they simply overwhelmed by the volume of work?
An organisation speaks of collaboration. But does its culture truly encourage the sharing of knowledge, or does everyone still hoard information as a form of power?
We observe behaviour.
We can only hypothesise about intentions.
Perhaps this is one of the most important lessons the law offers to management.
People cannot be evaluated solely by what they declare, nor exclusively by what they do in a controlled setting. Authentic change is visible only when behaviour remains consistent over time, in different situations, and even when no one is watching.
That is why, before we say of someone that they have changed or that they will never change, we might do well to be a little more cautious.
Because between these two assertions lies a territory where neither the certainties of the law nor our personal convictions operate.
There is only human nature. And it remains, probably, the most difficult “case” we have to resolve.