The recently concluded 2025 National and Local Elections in the Bangsamoro Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao (BARMM) were once again marred by the paradox that has haunted this region for decades: a fragile peace protected by guns and uniforms, and a democratic process riddled with fear, coercion, and control by political dynasties and armed groups.

The Joint Statement issued by the Government of the Philippines (GPH) and the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF) Peace Implementing Panels offers a sobering mix of commendation and concern. While the security sector was praised for its role in averting widespread conflict during the elections, the very need for such an extraordinary deployment of troops and resources is a damning indicator that something remains fundamentally broken in BARMM’s political environment.

Seven years have passed since the signing of the Bangsamoro Organic Law (BOL) in 2018, which was supposed to usher in a new era of peace, self-governance, and genuine democracy in the region. Yet here we are in 2025, still deploying thousands of AFP and PNP personnel from faraway provinces just to hold elections—an activity that, in any mature democracy, should not require tanks, rifles, and armored convoys.

Despite these efforts, BARMM recorded the highest number of election-related violence incidents in the country. This is not just an administrative failure; it is a political crisis.

The Joint Peace and Security Teams (JPSTs), the Ad Hoc Joint Action Group (AHJAG), and other ceasefire mechanisms functioned as intended. That should be acknowledged. But these are conflict mitigation strategies—not governance solutions. They are temporary safety nets, not long-term political answers. Their success in preventing full-blown armed clashes should not obscure the reality that violence, coercion, and intimidation remain tools of political engagement in many parts of BARMM.

The panels themselves admit a hard truth: BARMM remains politically immature. That is an honest assessment, but it also begs a critical question—why has political maturity not developed despite the presence of autonomous governance for nearly a decade?

The answer lies in the failure to fully democratize the political space. Power in BARMM continues to be concentrated in the hands of a few, mostly entrenched clans and former combatants who now wear the coat of civilian governance but continue to operate under a warlord-style mentality. Election-related violence is not random—it is a symptom of a system where political competition is existential, where losing means losing power, resources, and protection. In such a system, violence becomes a rational strategy.

Even worse, the normalization track—the disarmament and reintegration of combatants—remains incomplete. Many members of the MILF’s armed wing, the BIAF, are still in limbo, with limited economic opportunities and unclear futures. This creates fertile ground for them to be used as private armies, political enforcers, or spoilers during tense electoral periods.

If we are serious about political maturity, we need to address the deeper structural issues: the monopoly of political power, the weak rule of law, the absence of real party-based competition, and the lack of civic education that empowers citizens to vote without fear or coercion.

Let’s not forget: the upcoming BARMM parliamentary elections in October 2025 will be a watershed moment. It will be the first time that the region’s leadership is chosen not just through local government posts, but through a regional parliamentary process that was envisioned to reflect the true aspirations of the Bangsamoro people.

But how can we expect a credible, participatory, and violence-free parliamentary election if the national and local elections this year were plagued by bloodshed, voter suppression, and logistical nightmares?

If anything, the situation calls for a national reckoning—and a regional awakening.

First, the GPH must ensure that normalization is no longer treated as a side program but as a central pillar of peace and governance. The socioeconomic reintegration of former combatants must be accelerated. The BIAF cannot remain an armed standby force every time elections come around.

Second, the MILF must make clear that it is no longer just a former rebel movement turned governing authority—but a democratic actor willing to dismantle the feudal and coercive structures that continue to suffocate the region. This includes holding its own members and allied groups accountable for participating in electoral violence.

Third, civil society and religious leaders must rise to the challenge of educating the Bangsamoro electorate—not just about voting procedures, but about the value of clean, peaceful elections. Political maturity starts with the people. They must be given the tools and space to challenge impunity and reject warlordism.

Lastly, the international community and independent watchdogs must remain vigilant. Silence and token praise in the face of serious democratic deficits will only embolden those who benefit from the current system.

This October, BARMM is set to make history once again as it holds its first-ever regional parliamentary elections. This is supposed to be the crown jewel of the Bangsamoro political transition—an exercise in genuine self-governance through a parliamentary system tailored to the unique identity and aspirations of the Moro people.

And yet, if the recent election scenario is any indication, we may be heading into this landmark event with the same conditions of militarization, intimidation, and political manipulation. If nothing changes, the first BARMM Parliament may be born not from the people’s free will, but from a process distorted by fear and control. That would be a tragic betrayal of what the Bangsamoro struggle has stood for.

Peace is not simply the absence of gunfire during elections. It is the presence of justice, accountability, and dignity in the democratic process. If we let this moment slip, we risk institutionalizing a broken system under the banner of autonomy.

The Bangsamoro people deserve not only a Parliament—they deserve a future built on genuine democracy.

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