Bu-lat-lat (boo-lat-lat) verb: to search, probe, investigate, inquire; to unearth facts Issue No. 41 November 25 - December 1, 2001 Quezon City, Philippines |
Tribulations
of an Ex-Rebel By Claire MacDonald and Raissa Espinosa-Robles Asiaweek May
28, 1999 MUSLIMS
ON THE ISLAND of Mindanao had a dream: autonomy would lead to better jobs, fewer
deaths from gun battles, maybe even new roads, certainly three square meals a
day. Their dream-maker was Nur Misuari. Today, two-and-a-half years after
Misuari abandoned the balaclava and the bullet to become the respectable
governor of the Autonomous Region for Muslim Mindanao, his followers are losing
patience with his promises. "People are disenchanted," says Parouk
Hussin, Misuari's personal physician during his decade-long exile and now the
foreign minister of the Moro National Liberation Front. Misuari spends much of
his time in Manila courting investors. But the money isn't exactly flowing south
into Mindanao, and many people feel neglected by their absent leader. Hope has
turned bitter. When
Misuari led Muslim Mindanao's 24-year fight for independence, he had a common
touch. The former political science professor scooped rice with his fingers from
a communal plate. He wore batik shirts and a Sukarno cap. Now Misuari, 58, is
chauffeured around the capital in a Mercedes Benz (a gift from an Arab
supporter), eats with a fork and spoon and often wears Western suits. Colleagues
had to advise him to check out of the five-star Dusit Hotel Nikko in suburban
Manila. Misuari is instead based in more modest accommodations that used to
house the Vietnamese embassy. If everybody back home were doing well, that would
be one thing. But not much has changed for most in Mindanao. They call Misuari
"a Manila boy," and that's not meant as a compliment. Misuari
is used to acting as he pleases, and is adamant that he's doing the right thing.
"I know my priorities. I cannot spend my time sitting in that lonely place
when so many investors are coming," he says. "I can be successful only
by meeting them in Manila. They will not go [to Mindanao]. There are no
facilities." Misuari tries to sell foreigners on the region's potential:
untapped resources and cheap labor. He promises to talk to almost anybody at
anytime. "I have no Sundays and Saturdays," he says. The governor
personally accompanies investors to meet the officials who provide the necessary
clearances and guarantees. He has to. Cabinet officials would give the
cold-shoulder to someone of lesser stature than Misuari, says MNLF
secretary-general Muslimin Sema. The
governor boasts that he has personally secured more than $1 billion in foreign
investment pledges since signing the peace pact with Manila in 1996. But that
doesn't satisfy his critics. "We don't see any development yet in the
south," says Hussin. So where is the money? Misuari says that a large part
of the billion dollars worth of investments was channeled through the national
government which "made use of it without consulting [or crediting]"
him. When pressed for details about the proposed investments, though, Misuari is
vague. That's why some contend that he is exaggerating his success in raising
money for Mindanao. Misuari
also complains that Manila is holding on to a good chunk of money allocated to
the region in the 1998 annual budget. Only $3 million of some $20 million set
aside for capital expenditures has been released so far. That money went to
laying down a few more kilometers on Misuari's showcase project, a 163-km road
that will one day circle Sulu province. "Why are they not giving us money?
They want us to fail?" he asks. Getting money out of Manila is never easy.
But it doesn't help that Misuari campaigned for President Joseph Estrada's
rival. Even
Misuari's staunchest supporters have had enough. One loyal Mindanao-based MNLF
leader warns: "If he continues to stay in Manila, that's the end of him. He
is isolating himself from the people. People need him. His presence is better
than money. Leadership is better than money." Hussin puts it this way:
"If you are a leader of a revolutionary organization and if you are
betraying the trust of the general population, then you are plotting your own
ouster." But Misuari has quit the revolution, and he has no fears about
being pushed from power. He calls the clamor over his new ways
"idiotic," and says that his critics "don't know how much people
love" him. The
governor is not yet in danger of losing his job, despite rumors that some are
plotting to replace him. First, because no other leader is popular enough to
challenge Misuari. And, says a top foreign affairs official in Manila:
"They still need him. He's the only one who can raise funds." In
short, Misuari is the acceptable face of Muslim Mindanao. The real problem may
not be with the governor himself, but with the "paper autonomy" he
agreed to, says a political analyst. Peace has transformed Misuari's armed
revolution into a bureaucratic struggle for money. It gave him more
responsibility than means. He promised more than he could deliver. Sounds like
politics everywhere. But Muslims in Mindanao are having a hard time living with
that. Bulatlat.com We want to know what you think of this article.
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