Why Do Crimes and Criminals Exist?

Let’s get one thing straight: people aren’t born criminals. Society makes them. If we want to talk honestly about why crimes and criminals exist, we have to stop pointing fingers solely at individuals and start holding systems accountable. Crime doesn’t rise from a moral vacuum—it emerges from poverty, inequality, corruption, and the complete failure of the state to provide people with the dignity and opportunities they deserve.

Criminals exist because, for many, crime feels like the only option. In the Philippines, as of 2023, around 18.1% of the population—or roughly 19.9 million people—live below the poverty threshold (Philippine Statistics Authority [PSA], 2023). When people are shut out of stable employment, quality education, and even basic healthcare, illegal alternatives start to look like lifelines. Some turn to theft, drug peddling, or syndicates not out of malice but out of necessity. This is not to romanticize crime—but to acknowledge that desperation breeds it.

The narrative that crime is simply the result of “bad choices” or “moral failure” is not only outdated—it’s dangerous. When a child grows up in an informal settlement surrounded by violence, with overcrowded classrooms, no access to nutritious food, and parents who themselves are struggling to survive, the idea of personal choice becomes a cruel myth. The United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) recognizes that socioeconomic exclusion and inequality are major drivers of criminal behavior, particularly in urban areas where the gap between the rich and poor is stark (UNODC, 2019).

To make things worse, the criminal justice system often punishes poverty while shielding privilege. Steal a cellphone and you risk years in jail. Launder billions through fake foundations and you might get elected to public office. A 2020 report by Human Rights Watch described the Philippine justice system as “deeply flawed, prone to errors, and vulnerable to political abuse,” especially in the prosecution of poor and marginalized citizens (Human Rights Watch, 2020). Corruption festers in this environment, and crime flourishes when the state itself sets a bad example.

And yet, the government’s response has been painfully predictable: harsher punishments, more jails, more force. This punitive approach does not work. Criminologists and justice reform advocates have repeatedly emphasized that increasing the severity of punishment has little to no effect on crime rates—what matters more is the certainty of being caught and the fairness of the system (Nagin, 2013).

If we are serious about addressing crime, we must stop treating it as a personal failure and begin treating it as a societal one. That means investing in public services, creating real employment opportunities, raising the quality of education, improving mental health support, and rooting out corruption—especially among the elite. Crimes and criminals exist not because Filipinos are inherently lawless, but because our society is deeply unjust. No amount of death penalties or militarized crackdowns will fix what inequality and impunity have broken. What will? Compassion, structural reform, and a justice system that serves everyone—not just those who can afford it.