Forty-two cadets of the Philippine National Police Academy (PNPA) were expelled after remaining silent about the hazing incident that left 22 plebes injured. Authorities discovered that the plebes had suffered burns and injuries after being exposed to a mixture of drain cleaner and muriatic acid during the hazing rites. The expelled cadets allegedly failed to cooperate with investigators and refused to identify those directly responsible for the abuse. The punishment was swift and severe, signaling the determination of the academy leadership to impose accountability after the scandal shook the institution and embarrassed the Philippine National Police before the public.

It is undoubtedly a harsh punishment. Yet despite its severity, it is also a deserved punishment. One cannot help but feel deep sorrow for the parents of these 42 cadets, many of whom probably invested everything they had so their children could enter the academy. For countless poor Filipino families, admission into the PNPA is not merely a personal achievement but a lifeline out of poverty. Many parents likely imagined their sons or daughters eventually wearing the uniform with pride, earning a stable salary, and helping uplift the family from generations of hardship and insecurity.

Now those dreams have collapsed because of silence.

Yet the silence itself is perhaps the most revealing aspect of this entire controversy. These 42 cadets were trapped in a painful and difficult bind. If they testified and exposed those responsible, they would forever carry the stigma of being squealers within the police profession. Even if they had eventually graduated and entered the police service, many fellow officers would likely never trust them fully because they had broken the unwritten code of silence that governs police culture.

This code of silence explains why hazing in the PNPA remains so difficult to eradicate. Hazing in the police academy is not simply an act of violence committed by upperclassmen against plebes. Hazing is part of the socialization process that future commissioned officers undergo before entering the police profession. The suffering itself is only one part of the ritual. More important is the lesson that cadets absorb afterward: protect the group at all costs, remain silent under pressure, and never betray your fellow officers.

The silence of these cadets demonstrates how deeply entrenched this culture already is within the academy. Even when faced with expulsion and the destruction of their careers, many still chose to remain quiet. Their refusal to speak shows the extraordinary power of group solidarity within police training institutions. The fear of being branded as traitors outweighed even the fear of losing their future careers in law enforcement.

Social learning theory in criminology provides a strong explanation for this behavior. Edwin Sutherland argued that deviant behavior is learned through interaction with intimate groups that transmit favorable attitudes toward rule violations. Ronald Akers later expanded this framework by emphasizing reinforcement and imitation as key mechanisms in the learning process. Within the PNPA, cadets are exposed to an environment where loyalty to the batch is rewarded while exposing wrongdoing is punished socially and emotionally. The code of silence therefore becomes learned behavior reinforced through everyday interaction.

The newly arrived plebes quickly discover that survival inside the academy requires more than physical endurance. They learn that conformity to group expectations is necessary if they wish to belong. They also learn that silence is often treated as a virtue while whistleblowing is treated as betrayal. Over time, these values become deeply internalized and eventually shape the moral compass of future police officers.

This is what makes the scandal deeply disturbing. The 42 expelled cadets were confronted with competing moral values, yet many chose loyalty over justice. They valued solidarity more than the welfare and protection of the abused plebes. They chose silence over truth. The higher principles of professionalism, nonviolence, and accountability were relegated to secondary importance beneath the demands of group loyalty.

This inversion of moral priorities reveals the deeper moral corruption inside the PNPA. Cadets are taught formally about ethics, constitutional rights, police professionalism, and accountability. Yet the informal culture inside the academy appears to teach a very different lesson. The institution may preach integrity publicly, but the internal culture rewards silence and conformity. Cadets therefore absorb contradictory messages about what truly matters inside the police profession.

The same dynamics later become visible in actual police work. In my previous work on police corruption and police deviance in the Philippines, I argued that one of the greatest obstacles to meaningful reform is the extraordinary strength of internal solidarity among police officers. Officers often protect one another even when misconduct becomes obvious. They remain silent in the face of corruption, brutality, extortion, torture, planting of evidence, and abuse of authority because loyalty to fellow officers is treated as a sacred obligation.

Research on police occupational culture strongly supports this observation. Jerome Skolnick described how the dangers and uncertainties of policing produce strong internal cohesion among officers. This solidarity helps officers survive stressful and dangerous working conditions. However, solidarity can become dangerous when it mutates into complicity. Officers become reluctant to testify against colleagues, and organizational misconduct becomes concealed behind the protective shield of group loyalty.

The PNPA scandal reflects this same cultural pattern at an earlier stage of police socialization. Before the cadets even graduate, they are already learning how to protect one another from accountability. They are already learning that preserving solidarity is more important than exposing wrongdoing. They are already learning that silence is expected even when serious abuse has occurred.

The expelled cadets therefore made a painful calculation. They concluded that it was better to lose their positions in the academy than to live permanently with the label of being squealers. In their minds, expulsion represented temporary disgrace while betrayal of the group represented lifelong dishonor. This calculation demonstrates how deeply the code of silence has penetrated the thinking of future police officers.

This is also why police corruption becomes so difficult to dismantle later in professional service. Police officers who become accustomed to protecting fellow cadets despite obvious wrongdoing may later carry the same mentality into actual policing. They learn early that loyalty to the group supersedes loyalty to the law. They learn that protecting fellow officers is more important than protecting institutional integrity. They learn that silence is rewarded while truth-telling is punished.

Once this mentality spreads throughout the organization, corruption flourishes easily. Officers begin tolerating misconduct because exposing wrongdoing threatens the cohesion of the group. Noble cause corruption develops when officers justify unethical acts for what they perceive as the greater good. Over time, the organization becomes insulated from accountability because insiders refuse to cooperate with investigations or expose internal abuses.

This is why the expulsion of the forty-two cadets, harsh as it may appear, remains the correct decision. The cadets were given the opportunity to cooperate with investigators and help identify those directly responsible for the hazing. They were given the chance to correct wrongdoing and reject the toxic culture of silence. They were also given the opportunity to become whistleblowers and help protect future plebes from abuse. Yet many still chose silence.

Their silence was not neutral behavior. Their silence protected the continuation of abuse and shielded the perpetrators from accountability. Institutions cannot reform themselves if members continue protecting wrongdoing through silence and concealment. Accountability requires moral courage, especially inside organizations where conformity and loyalty are deeply valued.

However, punishment alone will not solve the deeper cultural problem. The expulsions must be accompanied by a broader institutional campaign aimed at dismantling the glorification of hazing within the police profession. Many current and retired officers still romanticize hazing as a necessary rite of passage that supposedly builds discipline and toughness. Stories about surviving hazing are often narrated with pride and nostalgia, as though enduring abuse were proof of professional worthiness.

These narratives must be challenged directly and consistently. The hazers should be the ones stigmatized, not the plebes who report abuse or cooperate with investigations. Individuals who become whistleblowers should be protected and celebrated for their courage. The police organization must create an environment where exposing wrongdoing becomes a sign of integrity rather than betrayal.

The PNPA therefore stands at a critical crossroads. The academy can continue reproducing a culture where silence and blind loyalty dominate professional ethics. Or it can begin transforming itself into an institution where accountability, integrity, and respect for human dignity become the true foundations of police professionalism. Genuine reform requires more than disciplinary action after scandals emerge. It requires cultural transformation that reshapes how future police officers understand loyalty, solidarity, and moral responsibility.

The tragedy of the forty-two expelled cadets is that they are both wrongdoers and products of a deeply flawed institutional culture. They made the wrong decision, yet their silence also exposed the profound sickness that continues to exist within the academy. Their expulsion may therefore become more than punishment. It may become a painful but necessary warning about the dangerous consequences of teaching future police officers that protecting the group is more important than protecting the truth. – Rappler.com

Raymund E. Narag, PhD, is an associate professor in criminology and criminal justice at the School of Justice and Public Safety, Southern Illinois University, Carbondale.