BATANG MINDANAW: An Intergenerational Historical Consciousness

On the Diasporic Experience

As I eagerly contemplate pages of literature and engage in a series of fieldwork and dialogues to deepen my understanding of the multifaceted aspects and underpinnings of the Bangsamoro struggle, the conversations with my paternal grandfather enriched my perspective as he recounted decades-old memories and shared his experiences from the height of the Moro revolution.

Being part of the Bangsamoro diaspora now, reconciling the breadth of my cumulative experiences in the grassroots with the continuous study of theoretical frameworks often feels like navigating an intricate panopticon. It is always a process of a delicate attempt to bridge the gaps of misconceptions and untangle the skewed assumptions surrounding the true history and authentic narratives of the Moros.

Maneuvering the duality, however, presents an opportunity for the reflexivity of dynamic perceptions whether in casual discourse, the media, and even the clashes in the academe. The sense of responsibility to serve, the persistent curiosity, and the drive for critical inquiry remain essential pillars of analysis for anyone striving to undertake a path of immersing in our historical roots.

Truth be told, we face formidable challenges in translating the democratization of knowledge into a tangible reality, particularly when it comes to our Bangsamoro history. Reclaiming our narrative amidst the fragmentations, stereotypes, and, at times, the absurd sensationalizations of our past is no simple task. It is a demanding endeavor, yet one that has become increasingly essential. The significance of these pursuits is undeniable, but they come with their own distinct set of challenges — challenges that cannot be overlooked or easily surmounted.

There are questions, profound and unresolved, that seem to linger in the liminal space between diaspora and home, and more often than not, their answers lie in returning to the places where our roots run deepest. Alongside the bridging of theory and praxis, policy and on-the-ground reality, nothing compares to the sobering clarity and truth found in the raw, intimate conversations with the forerunners of the history we seek to understand.

These exchanges strip away the abstractions of theory and anchor the weight of history firmly in our conscience. They remind us that understanding our past is not merely an intellectual endeavor confined to the safety of ivory towers, devoid of depth or understanding of its contemporary implications.

It is in these moments of conversation that my own narrative finds its footing, tethered to the voices of those who lived through the struggle — my grandfather, in this specific account.

Conversations with Abi

Abi, during his time as part of the Moro National Liberation Front (MNLF), and later on the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF), was stationed in Kabuntalan from 1972 onwards, upon the declaration of Martial Law by Ferdinand Marcos Sr., which attempted to altogether destroy and erase the existence and identity of the Moros. Born and raised in the landlocked municipality of Kabuntalan, he immediately joined the cause upon the formation of the organized revolution.

He recalled the hardships they encountered during those crucial years, particularly the brutal encounters between the MNLF-MILF and the paramilitary group Ilaga, backed by the Philippine Constabulary and notorious for their barbaric acts of violence against the Moros. Known for their inhumane savagery, the Ilaga committed atrocities that included mutilation, desecration of corpses, and the indiscriminate slaughter of entire families.

With a grounded sense of pride and conviction, Abi narrated how the Moros mounted a fierce defense of their people and their lands, even in the face of the Philippine military’s overwhelming aggression. The military, with the support of the American colonial government, deployed its full arsenal, with helicopters soaring overhead to drop bombs and strafing the ground below with unyielding gunfire.

In their lives and rotations at the respective camps, the principles and way of life of a Mujahid, deeply rooted in the essence of Jihad Fi Sabilillah — striving or fighting in the path of Allah — formed the unshakable foundation of their mission. The sacrifices they endured, the blood shed, and the lives lost on the battlefield became inseparable from their struggle, intertwining with the disciplined routines, boundless courage, and spiritual devotion that defined life within the camps that anchored their spirits amid the relentless tides of adversity.

Their fight for survival was one of sleepless nights, where the scarcity of resources made even the simplest needs seem impossible to meet. On the days when resources were most scarce, a meager meal of saging, kamote, or kangkong would suffice, and they considered themselves fortunate if they didn’t have to face the battleground with empty stomachs. Abi also recalled how countless nights were spent on high alert, their senses heightened by the stillness of the dark that kept them vigilant, for they knew that danger often moved unseen under the cover of night.

As he would utter, “They didn’t want Moros to have a separate entity and a concrete identity.” The Moros were not just marginalized but were stripped of dignity, the women raped and violated in the wake of ruthless massacres, and communities subjected to relentless discrimination. They were rendered landless in the very lands that had cradled their ancestors, punished for no greater crime than holding fast to their beliefs, their principles, and the identity they refused to abandon.

Yet, despite these hardships, he also spoke with deep gratitude for the invaluable support from allies such as Libya, Pakistan, Indonesia, and other countries, whose backing — whether in terms of funding, training, or political support — helped propel the movement onto the global stage and allowed it to gain traction in ways that significantly strengthened their cause.

For all those who championed the cause of the Bangsamoro, the assertion of Moro identity, the right to self-determination, the defense of ancestral lands, and most importantly, the defense of Agama Islam in the face of freedom’s usurpation stood as both a noble and indispensable struggle.

On Historical Consciousness

In the series of our exchanges, I have come to understand that the most fundamental step in honoring the Bangsamoro struggle is to actively cultivate a profound and unshakable sense of historical consciousness.

Historical consciousness transcends the shallow level of historical literacy or mere awareness of a series of events. Beyond simply knowing what has transpired, it is the intimate and transformative process of embodying the past as an unyielding force that shapes who we are and who we strive to become, even as we contend with the challenges of the present. This form of consciousness involves a transgenerational mental orientation to time, critical self-reflection, and a sense of discernment to examine the intersectionality of experiences, realities, and challenges across generations.

We bear the crucial and uncompromising task of reclaiming and writing our history from our own vantage point, and actively ensure that it speaks with our truth and our voice. More importantly, we must refuse to let it be shaped or dictated by external forces that seek to exploit the depth of our past. It is only through such consciousness that our call for transitional justice gains the urgency and substantiation it deserves, for this awareness ignites the pursuit of accountability and ensures that the atrocities systematically faced by the Moros are neither forgotten nor allowed to be repeated.

Without this deeply rooted awareness, our struggle risks fragmenting, severed from the profound weight and complexity of its history, losing the very essence that binds us. But when we anchor ourselves in the timeless lessons of the past, when we fully embrace the ongoing nature of the Bangsamoro struggle, and when we recognize that it is an evolving quest — empowerment becomes a relentless force that fortifies our resolve and propels us forward with unwavering drive.

Our Bangsamoro history, laden with sacrifices and triumphs, not only defines who we are today but also illuminates what we must do to preserve, protect, and reimagine our identity as a people. Whether we seek our roots in pages, in places, or in heartfelt conversations with family and loved ones, it reminds us that our identity is a dynamic and evolving river, continuously shaped by the unyielding hands of those who came before us.

With this historical consciousness, we can move forward and gain deep insight into the quest for our contemporary political struggle in the arena of governance and genuine, equitable development. First and foremost, however, the prerequisite for the continuity of our identity is contingent upon our holding on to and truly knowing our history with persistence and profound sincerity.

(Batang Mindanaw is the youth section of MindaNews. Somaiya K. Padilla, a Bangsamoro youth advocate from Cotabato City, is a sophomore pursuing a Bachelor of Science in Social Work at the University of the Philippines Diliman. She is the Founder of ADHIKA, a grassroots, youth-led organization that actively serves communities in the Bangsamoro region, and she currently serves as the Vice President for External Affairs of the UP Diliman Muslim Students’ Association. Having conducted extensive research on transitional justice, structural violence, and social development within the context of post-conflict transformation in BARMM, she has contributed to advancing the discourse both on the ground and in academia on these critical issues. She believes that the voices and perspectives of Moro youth should not only be amplified but also woven into the broader narrative of the Bangsamoro identity.)