PEACETALK: A fragile peace faces its final gamble

QUEZON CITY (MindaNews / 08 February) — As I sit in Speaker Nograles Hall to attend the Congressional Committee Hearing on HB 7236 as a resource speaker, waiting for my name to be called, the silence is often deceptive. In these sterile, air-conditioned halls, government officials speak of a historic “democratic dawn”—the first-ever parliamentary elections for the Bangsamoro, now slated for 2026. But on the ground, back in the marshlands and highlands of Mindanao, the air is thick with a different kind of history: one of stalled promises, smoldering feuds, and the heavy weight of rifles that were supposed to have been surrendered long ago.

The 2026 Bangsamoro elections represent the most ambitious gamble in the history of the Philippine peace process. This transition from a revolutionary government to a parliamentary democracy is meant to be the final chapter of the 2014 Comprehensive Agreement on the Bangsamoro. However, as the region prepares for the ballot, it is increasingly clear that the peace process is not merely lagging; it is fracturing under the pressure of its own unfulfilled conditions.

The strongest argument for the 2026 polls is one of legitimacy. For years, the Bangsamoro Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao (BARMM) has been governed by an appointed transition authority. A successful election would finally grant the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF) a mandate rooted in the popular will rather than revolutionary history. It forces a guerilla movement to evolve into a civil political party—the United Bangsamoro Justice Party—theoretically trading decades of armed struggle for the floor of a parliament.

Furthermore, the recent legal upheavals — most notably the Supreme Court’s 2024 decision to excise Sulu province from the autonomous region — have created a volatile administrative vacuum. Supporters of the 2026 timeline argue that only a fresh, legally sound election can stabilize the region’s new borders and reconfigure its power dynamics. To them, any further delay is not just a betrayal of democratic principles; it is a recipe for a dangerous cynicism among a populace already weary of “interim” solutions.

Yet, there is a darker, perhaps more realistic perspective: the argument that the region is fundamentally unready for this transition. At the heart of this skepticism is the failure of Normalization, specifically the decommissioning of MILF combatants. The peace agreement was built on a “parallel and commensurate” logic: as the government delivered development and security, the rebels would deliver their guns.

That logic has collapsed. Today, approximately 14,000 Bangsamoro Islamic Armed Forces (BIAF) combatants remain officially armed. They are a disgruntled cohort, feeling abandoned by a “peace dividend” that has manifested as little more than a one-time cash handout of P100,000. To these men, surrendering their weapons in 2026 feels less like a step toward peace and more like a surrender to their enemies — the powerful, traditional political clans who have spent the transition period bolstering their own Private Armed Groups (PAGs).

When you combine a stalled disarmament process with the rise of violent extremist factions like Dawlah Islamiyah, the 2026 election begins to look less like a democratic milestone and more like a catalyst for conflict. We are witnessing the “weaponization of rido” (clan feuds), where political rivalries are increasingly settled through ambushes rather than debates.

In this environment, the voter’s choice is rarely free. The presence of armed BIAF units, loyal to their local commanders rather than the central state, creates a “coercive democracy” where kinship and military command often dictate the outcome. If the MILF-led government loses at the polls, the risk of “spoilers” —disgruntled, armed veterans returning to the hills or joining Dawlah Islamiyah-aligned cells — becomes a terrifyingly likely reality.

.The 2026 Bangsamoro elections are a paradox. To delay them is to admit the peace process is failing; to hold them without completing decommissioning is to invite a bloodbath. For the peace process to survive, the Philippine government must look beyond the ballot box and urgently address the grievances of the “armed voter.” 

If 2026 is to be a victory for peace rather than a spark for a new insurgency, the “peace dividend” must become a tangible reality before the first vote is cast. Otherwise, the Bangsamoro may find that it has traded a long-running revolution for a permanent, violent instability.

Ultimately, recent studies on the surge of violent extremism among the Bangsamoro youth suggest that the ballot is not the antidote the region needs. In the hinterlands of Maguindanao and Lanao, radicalization is flourishing not for lack of voting booths, but for lack of hope. Young men and women are being drawn into extremist folds because of deep-seated social injustices, systemic corruption, and a vacuum of opportunity that an election simply cannot fill. What the people truly require is not a divisive political contest that pits neighbor against neighbor, but a foundation of good governance, quality education, and livelihood programs that generate sustainable jobs. 

Elections in the Bangsamoro have historically functioned as a wedge, deepening tribal and clan schism. What is needed now is the unifying force of a government that actually works. If the state cannot provide a path to a dignified life, the siren song of the extremist will always be louder than the call to the polls.

(MindaViews is the opinion section of MindaNews. Mussolini Sinsuat Lidasan is Director of the Al Qalam Institute for Islamic Identities and Dialogue in Southeast Asia at the Ateneo de Davao University where he leads initiatives aimed at preventing violent extremism and fostering social justice through research and community engagement. He was a former member of the Bangsamoro Transition Authority and Commissioner of the Bangsamoro Transition Commission).