SAN FRANCISCO—Past peace talks have led nowhere, so many are naturally skeptical of the photo-op meeting between P-Noy and Al Haj Murad of the Moro Islamic Liberation Front.
But despite the bubbling legal and political questions on the secret powwow, it was a bold move on Aquino’s part.
It presented an opening—a potentially significant one. Accounts of the meeting suggest positive vibes from Murad and the MILF that Aquino can build on.
In a way, I’m not surprised.
I had covered the MILF as a reporter, an experience that gave me an impression of a movement that was determined, at times, ruthless, but also capable of taking a flexible, pragmatic approach to their political objectives.
Murad personifies this in some ways.
I first met him in 1986 when (to the chagrin of my mother) I skipped my UP Diliman college graduation—the late Cory Aquino was commencement speaker—to attend an MILF press meeting in a jungle in Maguindanao.
I met Murad again 13 years later in 1999 when I covered the Mindanao conflict as a reporter for the San Francisco Chronicle. By then, the MILF was stronger, their strength concentrated in Camp Abubakar, a sprawling 37-square-mile area which then had a civilian population of about 20,000.
It even had Internet connection. In fact, I had tracked Murad down via e-mail. I asked if we could visit Camp Abubakar and he readily gave his okay. A man holding a sign with my name on it met me and a photographer at Cotabato airport. From there, we drove to Camp Abubukar.
Murad met us in his office. He was in his late 30s when we first met. He was in his early 50s in 1999. He had more grey hair, his face had aged.
But he was still the same rebel leader I met in the late 1980s: Soft-spoken, polite and gracious.
He had told me of his early days as a guerrilla during the early years of the Moro rebellion when he and his comrades hid in jungle marshes armed only with homemade guns.
By 1999, the MILF was a well-equipped rebel army, a formidable political force. There were still skirmishes with the Philippine military in those years. But on the whole, a fragile ceasefire with the administration of President Fidel Ramos was in place.
From hiding in jungle marshes, Murad now led his rebel movement from an office in which he kept books with such titles as “The Islamic Fatwa Regarding Women” and “The Internet for Busy People.”
In Camp Abubakar, the MILF created a stronghold which also appeared to be a thriving Muslim community.
Veiled Muslim women ran sari-sari stores which sold rice, canned good, toiletries, as well as fatigues with MILF logos and pouches of rocket grenades. The morning of our second day the smell of pandesal and fried tuyo filled the air.
The night before, veteran guerrilla John Abubakar told me with pride, “There are no cabarets here. No alcohol, no shabu.”
Camp Abubakar had schools, including a law school and an agricultural college. I watched young Muslims in T-shirts and flip flops signing up for courses in English, Islamic history and the production of cut flowers.
Some scenes underscored a more ultra-conservative culture that the MILF appeared to embrace. A classroom where Muslim students were studying Arabic was divided by a plastic sheet — one side for men, the other for women.
But Camp Abubakar was hardly an isolated community. There were many reminders of how closely integrated it was to the rest of Filipino society. I met young guerrillas who talked excitedly about a recent visitor, the basketball legend-turned-senator Bobby Jaworski.
In fact, Philippine basketball appeared to be a passion even among MILF leaders. In introducing himself, Benjie Midtimbang, then director of the MILF’s military academy, quipped, “That’s Benjie as in ‘Benjie Paras,’” referring to another basketball star.
In fact, in their ground-breaking book on the Muslim rebellion in Mindanao, “Under the Crescent Moon,” Marites Vitug and Glenda Gloria said Camp Abubakar was “unique.”
The Ramos Administration launched a number of development projects in the area, including a major highway. Clearly, these were part of the government’s counterinsurgency program.
But the MILF not only welcomed these initiatives, they even offered suggestions on how to carry them out.
Vitug and Gloria tell the story of how MILF leader Salamat Hashim even wanted the government to extend the road to the rebel group’s other camp in Lanao Del Sur.
“We allow them here,” Hashim is quoted as saying in the book. “They aim to calm down our people, but we know how to counter counterinsurgency.”
It underscored the MILF’s relatively non-dogmatic attitude to politics.
The thinking appeared to be: ‘Yes they’re building these projects in hopes of weakening us. But we can also use these things that they’re building to make ourselves stronger – to create the community we want for our people.’
In fact, in my view, Camp Abubakar could have served as a core building block for genuine autonomy, a critical foundation for lasting peace.
Unfortunately, that opportunity was lost.
Roughly a year after my visit, the Estrada Administration unleashed a major offensive that forced the MILF to withdraw. In a stunning display of arrogance and political cluelessness, Erap celebrated the “victory” by bringing in lechon and beer for a party with the troops.
I called Murad from San Francisco as the camp was being overrun.
“They have been shelling us every day,” he said. “This is a setback for the peace process. We are back to zero again.”
The meeting with Aquino was a tiny step forward.
The one thing that worries me, however, is the talk of putting the peace talks on a fast track. That’s bound to raise unrealistic expectations.
The photo-op in Japan was a positive step. But Aquino and Murad should probably forget about another photo-op anytime soon, before the building blocks for peace are actually in place.
This whole process will take time—just as it took many years for the MILF to build the community in Camp Abubukar.
Any photo-op, or press conference, or press release, or peace-making ceremony, or celebration of an end to the war should be based on realities on the ground.
I recall my own photo-op shortly before leaving Camp Abubakar in 1999.
While posing with young MILF fighters, a bearded old man in a Muslim cap happened to walk by. Seeing the young guerrillas with a visitor, he smiled and then joined the group picture. He then shook my hand and walked away.
I never found out who he was or what happened to him when the camp was overrun by the Philippine military a year later.
But around the time I was there, I imagine that the old Muslim was a contented, even happy, citizen of a small corner of the archipelago, a community controlled and shaped by the MILF and its supporters, but also one that was inextricably linked to rest of Philippine society.
On Twitter @KuwentoPimentel