The recent hazing incident at the Philippine National Police Academy (PNPA) is not just another scandal; it is a brutal reminder that a culture of cruelty thrives where discipline and honor should prevail.

More than 20 cadets were reportedly burned with chemicals, suffering injuries so severe that Interior Secretary Juanito Victor Remulla described the case as “the worst” hazing he had ever seen. He did not mince words: it was, in effect, torture.

What happened inside the PNPA strips away any illusion that “tradition” justifies initiation rites that devolve into cruelty. This was not character-building. It was criminal abuse carried out within the country’s premier police training institution, the very place tasked with shaping future law enforcers.

To his credit, Remulla has taken a firm stance. “Walang aregluhan (no settlement),” he declared, vowing that those responsible will face charges under the Anti-Hazing Law. The arrests and ongoing investigations, including possible liability for PNPA officials, signal an intent to hold not only perpetrators but also enablers accountable.

In institutions like the PNPA, hazing is especially dangerous. These are future police officers entrusted with enforcing the law. If brutality is normalized in their training, it risks shaping how they wield authority in society.

The Philippines is not lacking in legal safeguards. The Anti-Hazing Law that I authored as senator, RA 8049 that was later strengthened by RA 11053, clearly defines and penalizes hazing, imposing severe sanctions on those who participate, organize, or tolerate it.

And yet, hazing persists. Why does it endure despite decades of public outrage, painful lessons, and stronger laws?

Part of the answer lies in ego-tripping, as Remulla himself noted. The injuries sustained by the cadets are proof of cruelty driven by a misplaced sense of power, behavior that has no place in an institution meant to build honor, discipline, and public service.

Another factor is the psychological pull of organizations, especially fraternities. Many young people join seeking identity, empowerment, and belonging. The promise of brotherhood is powerful, particularly during the uncertainties of youth. But when that promise is tied to violence, the culture of brotherhood turns into something darker — sustained by silence, conspiracy and complicity.

The Philippines has paid dearly for this culture. In 1991, Ateneo law freshman Leonardo Villa died during violent initiation rites, a tragedy that led to the passage of RA 8049. More than two decades later, the nation was again shaken by the death of UST law student Horacio Castillo III in 2017, prompting the enactment of RA 11053 with tougher penalties.

These laws are strong. But strength on paper does not automatically translate into deterrence. What can truly deter is the certainty of arrest and conviction, the assurance that justice will be swift, impartial, and unavoidable. Without that certainty, even the most severe laws lose their impact.

This is where the criminal justice system must continue to prove itself. The five pillars — police, prosecutors, courts, jails, and the community — must work efficiently to identify, apprehend, prosecute, convict, and incarcerate offenders.

The judiciary has already affirmed that the law is not weak. In a 2015 ruling upholding the conviction of Alpha Phi Omega fraternity members for the 2006 fatal hazing of a UP Los Baños student, the Supreme Court declared that “the law is rigorous in penalizing the crime of hazing,” recognizing that even circumstantial evidence can establish an unbroken chain of events sufficient for conviction.

Successful prosecution can happen in the PNPA case, just as what happened in a Philippine Military Academy case. In 2024, a Regional Trial Court in Baguio City rendered justice for the 2019 hazing death of Darwin Dormitorio. Three former PMA cadets were convicted and sentenced to reclusion perpetua, with millions of pesos in fines and damages imposed.

For the Dormitorio family, the verdict was “bittersweet,” coming after years of waiting and the demise of the victim’s father before justice was served. Still, the ruling stands as a powerful reminder: hazing can be punished, and the criminal justice system can work.

Remulla has announced reforms such as anonymous reporting channels, stricter oversight, and increased surveillance to strengthen accountability within the PNPA. These are necessary steps. And accountability must extend beyond those who carried out the abuse to those who ordered, tolerated, or ignored it.

Ultimately, strengthening of values is imperative. Respect for others, for their dignity and physical well-being, must be nurtured in homes, schools, and communities.

The PNPA case is another test. If authorities secure swift and credible convictions, they can bolster what legislation has clearly intended: that hazing is not only illegal, but inescapably punishable if the criminal justice system is efficient.

The rite of violence must end — through justice that is certain, swift, and uncompromising. ([email protected])