The Bangsamoro Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao (BARMM) is once again at the center of political storm clouds. At its heart lies a simple but explosive question: Did Al Haj Murad Ebrahim resign—or was he removed?

Former Chief Minister and Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF) Chairman Al Haj Murad Ebrahim has finally broken his silence, asserting that contrary to official statements, he did not voluntarily step down. According to him, he was unceremoniously “removed” as Chief Minister by the national government, only to be reassigned as a mere Member of Parliament (MP). For Murad, the move was nothing short of insulting: “Very insulting naman na alisin ka [as Chief Minister] tapos ibalik ka [as MP] below sa dati mong posisyon.”

On the other side, Presidential Peace Adviser Carlito Galvez insists otherwise. Galvez claims to possess the original resignation letter, dated March 3, 2025, wherein Murad himself humbly offered to step down to focus on the coming October 13 BARMM Parliamentary Elections. Malacañang has echoed this narrative, framing the leadership change as both legal and consistent with the Comprehensive Agreement on the Bangsamoro and the Bangsamoro Organic Law.

So, which version of events holds water?

If Murad’s claim is true, then what transpired was not just a “reshuffle” but a breach of trust—a unilateral move by the national government that undermines the very principles of autonomy and moral governance that BARMM is supposed to embody. It would also call into question the President’s appointments to the Bangsamoro Transition Authority, particularly the alleged bypassing of MILF-endorsed nominees in favor of handpicked allies.

If Galvez’s account is accurate, then Murad’s public denial raises troubling questions about political doublespeak within the MILF’s own ranks. Why would a respected revolutionary-turned-leader backpedal from his own signed resignation? Was the letter genuine, or was it crafted under political pressure?

The stakes here are monumental. The first BARMM parliamentary elections are just months away. For a region built on decades of blood, negotiations, and hard-won compromises, legitimacy is everything. If the people of Bangsamoro begin to believe that leadership transitions are dictated not by their will but by the whims of Malacañang, the fragile trust painstakingly forged during the peace process risks unraveling.

This controversy is not just about Murad. It is about the very soul of Bangsamoro self-rule. The people deserve the truth.

So we must ask, and ask loudly: Who is telling the truth—Murad or Malacañang? Was the Bangsamoro leader forced out of his seat, or did he willingly vacate it? Until this fundamental question is answered with transparency and honesty, the legitimacy of the new BARMM leadership will remain under a dark cloud.

In the end, autonomy without truth is no autonomy at all.

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