He must have felt ecstatic that graduation day in March 1941, standing in line with his mistahs at the Philippine Military Academy (PMA). These graduates, still in their early 20s, had survived four years of grueling physical conditioning — including the daily brutal hazing of their plebe (freshman) year, a practice now banned — on top of the pressures of academics.

Just nine months after leaving the PMA's long gray line, he and his classmates found themselves at war with an invader that had crushed Chiang Kai-shek's forces and steamrollered its way south into and past Southeast Asia. Fresh, "green" troops, they faced grizzled veterans who had swept aside all opposition that stood in their way.

He fought in Bataan, escaped the Death March, and evaded Japanese patrols as he navigated the swamps toward Bulacan, where he joined guerrillas who carried on the war to victory in the end. The first year of that war killed half of his PMA class. Five years after the war ended in 1945, he was fighting with allied forces in the Korean War; after that, he came home to fly air sorties against communist and Moro insurgents. By the time he retired, he was one of the armed forces' 11 generals — a total that already included one or two navy commodores — compared with hundreds each in today's military and police establishments, at a time when the Philippine military stood second to none in Southeast Asia.

Like Candy

For all his troubles across 30 war-torn years in the military, my father sported just four rows of ribbons, each representing a hard-earned medal, many of them won in combat. Yet he never received the Gold Cross or any higher medal for "gallantry in action." With nearly every soldier of that era carrying a long track record of intense combat, the bar, I suppose, was simply set a bit higher then.

One can imagine my wonder, then, at the sight of influential folks — a couple of them with questionable public backgrounds, or even mouthing Beijing's propaganda on the West Philippine Sea issue — donning the uniform of a senior officer in the reserve force, chests bedecked with awards, many of them "earned" in less than a decade and enough to fill as many as nine rows. Gosh — when and where did these people fight battles?

At times I wonder whether such gilded personalities would have what it takes to lead us and our sons from the front into battle, should the country ever be forced into such an extreme measure — and I shudder at the thought.

I therefore understand where the critics are coming from, especially the soldiers who have grown increasingly vocal on social media of late, over the perceived lax conferment of ranks and awards on public personalities. Asked about this perception, one retired general admitted that a public personality's influence may be a key — though not the only — consideration in being conferred ranks and awarded medals.

It was a welcome development when the Philippine Air Force's Reserve Command announced that it would review its policies on the conferment of awards and "honorary" badges to reservists. But the question immediately arises: "Only that unit?" The prevailing public perception nowadays — whether or not true — is that the practice of handing out reserve ranks and awards like candy to public personalities has been more prevalent than the armed forces care to admit.

There are, true enough, laws, rules and regulations: Republic Act No. 7077, the "Citizen Armed Forces of the Philippines Reservist Act"; AFP Circular No. 30; and special guidelines covering presidential appointees and other government officials. But have there been cases in which any of these statutes were bent? The Philippines, after all, is known for adequate laws and notoriously weak enforcement. Medals and other awards may be covered, pro forma, by general orders or whatever other documentation is required — but were the specific individual circumstances verified? Where and when, exactly, did the fellow perform the act that merited the award?

The Bigger Picture

This issue is particularly important at a time when the armed forces have been chalking up one of the best public satisfaction ratings among state institutions — even as public respect for many other key institutions has been dismal. That trust gives the military unusual standing in public life, which is precisely why questions over ranks and medals can land so sharply.

It takes on even greater significance as the Philippines modernizes and strengthens its armed forces — reserves included — in the face of external threats, first and foremost in the West Philippine Sea, as well as increased disaster risks. That worthwhile, necessary effort involves not only the acquisition of modern weapons, communications, electronic and command-and-control platforms, but also, equally vital, the development of quality manpower to maximize the use of these systems. Human capital is the resource at the heart of any organization.

Unfortunately, there are signs that this controversy of still-unverified "stolen valor" has struck a chord among some purported combat veterans — not the sort of people one would want to mess with. I do not know if it is merely a function of algorithms, but a number of individuals claiming to be active or retired soldiers (I have verified just a couple) have been posting their lists of medals on social media, saying, basically, that while these awards were just a handful, each one was proudly and rightfully earned. One wonders, though, why none of these posts was in Filipino.

Assuming all these posts are genuine, they point to the worrisome specter of division and potential restiveness within the ranks of our troops — a phenomenon that has reared its head occasionally since the past administration, over issues ranging from the perceived realignment toward China under former President Rodrigo R. Duterte to the alleged partial investigations of the flood-control mess under the current administration.

A retired general who formed part of the core group of coup plotters against past administrations said such restiveness has not erupted into outright rebellion because calls for the withdrawal of armed forces support from the current government have been perceived as part of partisan politics, rendering mobilization efforts inutile so far.

This issue of alleged "stolen valor" seems different, however. It has apparently struck a raw nerve among some of our professional soldiers, with some saying that either they nearly died or a comrade died without earning a medal for bravery. A typical civilian might brush the matter aside as something that does not concern him, but it could hide a cancer in our armed services that could eventually bite us all.

We may recall that military factionalism, politicization of and perceived inadequate military leadership, irregularities within the armed forces, and grandstanding by politicians figured among the many other causes of past military uprisings cited in two fact-finding probes. Those reports pointed to military grievances, a politicized armed forces, weak civilian institutions and the belief that the military has a political mandate as a risky brew.

Significantly, one retired general who had been linked to recent destabilization efforts has been quick to jump on this controversy, perhaps recognizing its timely, unique appeal. Perhaps indicative of the issue's resonance across partisan lines, criticism has come even from those who said they disagreed with the general on all other matters.

Now, how could any foreign power wishing to destabilize us resist such a rare, juicy opportunity? This is something the country needs like a hole in the head at a time of already-increased political risk weighing on the economy's attractiveness to potential investors.

Hence, it is a smoldering issue that bears watching and prompt, substantive remediation, lest it add just enough tinder to burst into flames.

Wilfredo G. Reyes was editor-in-chief of BusinessWorld from 2020 through 2023.