Indigenous peoples fight for their home in Bangsamoro — some are killed trying

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“I was shot in the back,” Jeffrey Moires heard his father say in their native Teduray language. Then Jeffrey saw the blood. His father collapsed in his arms, and Jeffrey spent the next grueling hours taking his bloodied father to the hospital where he waited until the wee hours of the morning the next day, when he was pronounced dead.

His father Elvin Moires, a councilor in Barangay Bongo, South Upi in Maguindanao del Sur, became the 78th non-Moro Indigenous Person (IP) to be killed in a span of 10 years in the Bangsamoro, a dominantly Muslim region in the Philippines that has fought for decades for autonomy. Moires was killed on September 17, 2024.

Before the year ended, the number of non-Moro IP killings had gone up to 83, according to the count of the Timuay Justice and Governance (TJG), the indigenous political structure of the Teduray-Lambangian IP groups.

Most of the killings, or 69 of them, happened in Maguindanao del Norte and Maguindanao del Sur near the seat of power of the Bangsamoro Transition Authority (BTA), the interim leadership of the Bangsamoro Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao (BARMM), which is preparing to have its first-ever elections after nearly 50 years of armed conflict.

Elvin Moires was also a Fenuwo Timuay, a term for village chieftain of the Teduray-Lambangian tribes. Jeffrey believes that the motive for his father’s killing was political. There was news that Elvin was going to run for captain, and that would mean a Teduray in power. That would also mean a Teduray in a position to help tribes secure their Certificates of Ancestral Domain Title (CADT).

SHOT. Elvin Moires was 55 years old when he was killed in September 2024. Photo courtesy of Jeffrey Moires

The Teduray-Lambangian groups are claiming 208,158 hectares of ancestral land in Maguindanao and portions of Sultan Kudarat. The delineation has been a two-decade process which was halted in 2019 when the newly-formed BTA issued a cease and desist order citing jurisdiction issues.

It was the National Commission on Indigenous Peoples (NCIP) that conducted the delineation, but after the Bangsamoro Organic Law (BOL) was passed, the BTA said it was now their Ministry of Indigenous Peoples Affairs (MIPA) that had exclusive authority to delineate land.

For Leticio Datuwata, the Timuay labi or Supreme tribal chieftain, they are being killed for trying to secure their ancestral domain in the hard-fought Bangsamoro.

“We are displaced by war, and killed by peace now. Kung mag-posisyon kami na hindi namin ibibigay ang lupa, ilan ang namamatay na IP leader?” an impassioned Datuwata told a House of Representatives committee on January 15. (If we assert that we’re not going to give up our land, how many IP leaders are killed?)

Datuwata is aware that such statements are precarious in the BARMM’s fragile transition to peace, but he said they’ve been unheard for too long.

“Hindi ako naniniwala na voiceless ang mga IP, malinaw at malakas ang boses na sinasabi na ito ang nangyayari, at ito ang dapat para sa mga IP. Pero hindi pinapakinggan. Hindi voiceless, unheard,” Datuwata told Rappler.

(I don’t believe that IPs are voiceless, our voices are loud and clear in saying what’s been happening, and what’s rightfully ours. But they are not listening. We are not voiceless, we are unheard.)

Who’s killing them?

To ask who is behind the murders of non-Moro IPs is a delicate discussion because it risks breeding resentment between ethnic and religious groups who have already suffered so much.

At the very least, the BTA recognizes that the problem of killings are rooted in land conflict. “Marami ritong mga rido problems sa Maguindanao at most na problema sa mga rido ay related sa lupa, may nangyayaring Maguindanao-Maguindanao, IP-IP, Maguindanao-Teduray, ang punto ay problema sa lupa,” Lanang Ali Jr, Deputy Speaker of the BARMM Parliament, told visiting journalists in Maguindanao over the weekend. (Rido means clan feud or violence)

(There are many rido problems in Maguindanao, and most of the rido are related to land. Sometimes it’s between Maguindanao people, between IPs, or between a Maguindanao person and a Teduray, the point is land problem.)

Land conflict has been cited as the probable cause of the killing in 19 cases, according to the TJG tally. Independent monitoring from the group Climate Conflict Action Asia that there was a “surge” in land conflicts in 2023 while they waited for a land law.

“Factions of the Moro Islamic Liberation Front, Moro National Liberation Front, and Bangsamoro Islamic Freedom Fighters have, time and again, trained their men and weapons against each other in their claim to swathes of land. These armed groups — as well as Maguindanaon families — have also besieged the Teduray-Lambangian IPs that claim thousands of hectares of land as their ancestral domain,” said the group in their triennial report for 2021 to 2023.

The Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF) negotiated the peace deal with the government, and their leaders head the BTA. MILF’s Mohaghed Iqbal, currently a BARMM Minister, cited reports of a specific family involved in a recent killing of a Teduray.

“Alam ng military ‘yan, pero hindi ko puwedeng sabihin. Ibig sabihin, kung tama ang report na dumadating sa amin, it’s not Teduray vs Teduray, but it’s Teduray versus family. Subject na ito sa masinsinan na meeting, series of meetings, to understand that,” Iqbal said in the same Maguindanao briefing as Ali.

(The military knows that, but I can’t say who. It means that if the report coming to us is correct, it’s not Teduray vs Teduray, but it’s Teduray versus that family. We are now having a thorough meeting, a series of meetings to understand that.)

What Jeffrey needs is immediate and permanent protection. The entire family, even his wife and child, have had to relocate except him. He is serving his father’s remaining term, and needs to stay in the area but not in his home. He wouldn’t report for duty unless he has alerted soldiers of his movement.

“Kung wala pong sundalo ngayon, sigurado raratratin na naman ‘yung bahay namin…Ang problema, hindi permanente ‘yung sundalo ngayon. Anytime, puwede sila mag-pull out,” Jeffrey told Rappler. (If there were no soldiers, they would certainly strafe our house. The problem is that the military presence is not permanent, anytime they could pull out.)

Pleading for a permanent military detachment, Jeffrey said: “Nagkawatak po kami ngayon ng aking mga kapatid. Tumigil na rin po ng pag-aaral ‘yung aking anak para sa kanyang seguridad. Maging aming pamumuhay ay wala na rin sa ayos sa ngayon.” (My siblings and I now live apart. My child has had to stop schooling for security. Our lives are not in order.)

Challenges ahead

Before 2024 ended, the BARMM passed the most-awaited land law or the Bangsamoro IP code supposedly to protect their land rights. Already, the Teduray-Lambangian groups are concerned with the language of some clauses. Section 3 says the law covers “other marginalized and minority [Indigenous Cultural Communities] ICCs/IPs” and Section 4k says the law “acknowledges the entire Bangsamoro Territory as the shared homeland of all peoples and communities with precolonial and historic ties to the Bangsamoro Autonomous Region.”

They worry that this one-for-all wording would dilute their claim to their domain. Two MILF camps (Camps Omar and Bader) also overlap with IP lands with little to no boundaries.

“Ang hirap kasi meron kang ancestral domain, alam nila na may ancestral domain, bakit doon nilagay ‘yung mga kampo na ito. Kahit ‘yung AFP [Armed Forces of the Philippines], ang banggit nila dito sa MILF camps ay areas of temporary stay, bakit parang nagiging permanent na siya?” Deanne Capiral, advocacy manager of Climate Conflict Action Asia, told Rappler.

(It’s difficult because there’s ancestral domain, and they know that’s ancestral domain, why set up the camps there? Even the AFP calls the MILF camps areas of temporary stay, why does it seem like it’s becoming permanent?)

Datuwata fears that development of the camps would further blur the line on what’s theirs. Approximately 60,000 hectares of the two MILF camps are part of the ancestral domain. The camps had been there since 2005.

Datuwata told lawmakers that they’ve been appealing even during the peace talks to reserve that land for the IPs, but that “the government discussed our rights in the peace negotiation without us.”

“Among the data we gathered was raising the fact that the non-Moro IPs have no representation in the talks. We re-echo that,” Human Rights Commissioner Faydah Dumarpa said, and added that it’s urgent to settle the issue of jurisdiction between NCIP and MIPA.

“Hopefully it can be addressed in the drafting and discussions of the Implementing Rules and Regulations (IRR),” said Dumarpa.

Mary Joie Melis, who documents the killings for the TJG, said she would prefer that the NCIP resume its authority, and not the BARMM’s MIPA. “Isang sigaw namin, isang hinihiling namin na baka puwedeng ituloy na ng NCIP kasi national law naman ang IPRA (Indigenous Peoples Rights Act) ‘di ba?” Melis told Rappler. (One of our most fervent request is for NCIP to continue because IPRA is a national law).

Feeling namin paubos na nang paubos ang mga naninindigan

Stop the killings

Although Melis appreciates the comprehensive discussions on the laws that surround land rights, “parang medyo naiwan ‘yung usapin ng IP killing at ito ang gusto namin na mapag-usapan (it seems like the issue of IP killings was left behind, and we want to bring attention to this issue),” she told Rappler.

The last non-Moro IP to be killed was Baywan Angan, a councilor in Barangay Mantao Datu Hoffer in Maguindanao del Sur, who was shot dead on December 7, 2024 while fishing in the river. Capiral said another IP survived a shooting incident this month. “Tuloy-tuloy pa rin ‘to (This continues),” she said.

Every year, thousands of non-Moro IPs are forced out of their homes due to land conflict. A baby once died in an evacuation center. The families of those killed suffer from trauma, and in urgent need of psychosocial support, said Melis.

Jeffrey is taking a great risk in continuing his father’s work, at least for the unserved term. A carpenter, he would not have wanted to be in politics. He would rather see his child return to school. But as a Teduray, it’s almost like he has no choice — not for him but for the cause.

“Kailangan lakasan ang loob, kailangan manindigan,” Jeffrey said. (I need to have courage, I need to stand firm.)

A cause at what cost?

“Feeling namin paubos na ng paubos ang mga naninindigan,” said Melis. (We feel like those standing firm are almost gone.) – with reports from JC Gotinga/Rappler.com