Filipino Politicians Wield Private Armies, Despite Ban

By NORIMITSU ONISHI

Published: February 20, 2010

REINA REGENTE, the Philippines — Tata Uy and a dozen members of his militia were milling around their base, a bullet-pocked mosque on a hill overlooking forests and farmland here in the southern Philippines. Mr. Uy pointed to a spot a couple of miles away where gunmen loyal to his uncle were holed up.

Jes Aznar for The New York Times

A member of a militia formed by Tata Uy, whose family owns farmland in Reina Regente, in the southern Philippines.

As one of his men patrolled the area on a water buffalo, a rifle slung over his shoulder, Mr. Uy (pronounced OO-ey) explained that he and his uncle had a falling out four years ago. But skirmishes escalated to full-blown fighting last year after he made it clear that he intended to run against his uncle, a local mayor, in an election this year.

The decision was not an easy one. “He’s my uncle, after all,” said Mr. Uy, 40, adding that it was not made any easier by his uncle’s vow to kill him.

He has now built up his militia to 40 men. “If it weren’t for my private army,” he said, “I’d be dead by now.”

Mr. Uy is a rare politician in the Philippines, one who does not deny having a private army. As the country prepares for nationwide elections in May, politicians are expected to use these militias, as they have in the past, to safeguard their interests, intimidate rivals, rig votes and perpetuate the control of family dynasties throughout the country.

But even as half a dozen political candidates have been assassinated throughout the country in recent weeks, President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo has pledged to eradicate private armies by Election Day. Critics are skeptical, though, not just because previous governments have failed at similar attempts.

They say they doubt Mrs. Arroyo’s sincerity, pointing to her government’s past support of private armies and saying that she was only responding to the international outcry over one of the country’s worst acts of political violence. In November, in a town not far from here, militiamen loyal to the powerful Ampatuan clan — staunch Arroyo allies — massacred 57 people, including journalists and relatives of a political rival to the Ampatuans. The clan’s patriarch and several of his sons were indicted this month.

Private armies have flourished especially here on Mindanao, the country’s southernmost major island, where Muslim and Communist insurgents have battled the military for decades and American soldiers have hunted for members of Abu Sayyaf, the terrorist group, since 2002. Philippine governments have supported local politicians with private armies to help suppress insurgents and Islamic radicals, and these conflicts often become inextricably linked with clan warfare.

An independent commission established to disband the private armies has identified 74 of them, though other government officials have said twice as many exist. They operate in areas that are home to 7.8 million registered voters, out of a national total of 50 million, said Dante Jimenez, a member of the commission.

“If we don’t contain the private armies, there is the risk that there won’t be fair elections in these hot spots,” Mr. Jimenez said. “In a tight presidential election, the private armies in one region could tip the balance.”

That is precisely what is believed to have happened in 2004 when Mrs. Arroyo was in a close race for the presidency. Widespread fraud occurred here in the southern province of Maguindanao, the fief of the Ampatuans, the clan accused of being behind the November massacre.

Here in Reina Regente, a barangay or village in Maguindanao, the feud between the nephew and uncle began four years ago, according to the nephew, news media reports, local politicians and officials with a neutral cease-fire monitoring group. The uncle, Samir Uy, could not be reached for comment.

Early last decade, the uncle appointed the nephew as chief of another district village — technically an elected position.

“In Mindanao, the mayors choose the barangay chiefs and expect them to follow orders,” said Don Mangansakan, 31, the vice mayor of Pikit, a nearby town. “Tata didn’t listen to the wishes of his uncle, who got rid of him. It’s as simple as that.”

Further defying his uncle, Tata Uy ran unsuccessfully for chief in Reina Regente, his hometown, where his family is the largest landowner, with 124 acres. He said he began forming his own militia, spending $65,000 to buy 45 weapons over the years and recruiting 40 men, including some who worked on his land.

Such a force would rank as medium-size, said Mr. Jimenez of the commission. There are only a handful of truly large private armies — like the 400- to 600-member force belonging to the Ampatuans — all of them concentrated here in the south.

Experts say private armies are typically composed of moonlighting police officers, soldiers, Muslim rebels and average citizens. In 2006, Mrs. Arroyo issued an executive order that made it easier for local politicians to form private armies, or “civilian volunteer organizations,” to battle Muslim insurgents. But one result was that it also allowed ambitious clans to build up militias rapidly for their own use.

Here, family feuds not only become a proxy for the battle between the military and Muslim insurgents, but also fuel that conflict. In Mr. Uy’s case, he began developing ties with the Moro Islamic Liberation Front, a rebel group that advocates secession, though he says he is not part of the insurgency. His uncle has been allied with the government and the military.

In May, after Mr. Uy unequivocally stated his goal of unseating his uncle as the local mayor, his tractor ended up at the bottom of a river. That message was soon followed by two weeks of fighting with guns and mortars, pitting his uncle’s private army and the military against the nephew’s militia and hundreds of fighters from the Moro rebel group.

Most of Reina Regente’s 500 families fled, joining the thousands of refugees from other clashes in overcrowded camps.

Nowadays, Tata Uy said, he is preparing for the start of the campaign next month and is continuing to buy weapons with his farming profits. He said he had heard about the president’s campaign to ban private armies. “It’s a good idea,” he said, pausing, “but it’s not going to work.”

Critics of Mrs. Arroyo, who cannot run again because of term limits, said she had rejected demands to rescind her executive order easing the creation of militias, raising questions about her effort against private armies.

“If she was serious, she would have tried to do something about the private armies sooner,” said Alex B. Brillantes Jr., a political scientist at the University of the Philippines in Manila. “It’s too little, too late.”