Barbaric

It ended with a bang, literally.



The bloody aftermath of the Bar Exams showed the ugly head of misplaced brotherhood. Fraternities and sororities, historically, have been known to inspire their members to aim for success whether in or after school. Many prominent politicians, businessmen and those from other fields of endeavor are members of these groups with Greek-sounding names.



Those who refuse to join any of these fraternities or who simply shrug their existence off are tagged as Barbarians. I was, and still is, a barbarian. I never belonged to any of these clans. In college, I was by myself. But I plead guilty to the fact that a great number of my closest friends are fratmen.



Up to this age when I am about to reach 40, some of them would entice me to join their ranks, sans the cruel initiation rites. They thought that for having endured the cruelties of life, I may be exempted from the wrath of the paddle and that ever ferocious Indian run.



No thanks!



As a Barbarian, I enjoyed college just like everyone else. I once espoused the belief that fraternities are for the weak and that by joining them, you will have to surrender many of your liberties and entrust your future to the brotherhood. I maybe wrong and I beg your pardon. But for me that was lame.



The Dela Salle bombing only bolstered my concern that by joining a fraternity, you automatically earn enemies. And nobody could dispute that. Not even the fact that most people who joined these brotherhoods have gained entry to a world of fierce rivalry and competition, instead of love for fellowmen. They have embraced a life not of their own but of their brods and sisses and a code that they are constrained to abide by for the rest of their lives.



There are a lot to be learned from the tragic conclusion of the Bar Exams. And for those who were maimed, a lot to be sorry about. We should resolve to end this abhorrence.



So now, who are the real barbarians?