No Victors in Vendettas

The world becomes less unprecedented once you live in conditions that force you to believe that justice is served at a price. One of the notions that consistently haunts the Maguindanaon is that cost is often understood in blood—where the slow grind of courts and institutions feels distant, and justice, for them, will not come without violence.

Following the recent assassination attempt of Shariff Aguak Mayor Akmad Ampatuan earlier this January, the incident stands as a blunt reminder of how political violence in Maguindanao is inseparable from dynastic rule and the transgression of power over entrenched fiefdoms, particularly now that Maguindanao del Sur prepares for the 2026 Bangsamoro Parliamentary Election, now delayed for the fourth time.

In a political climate where “an eye for an eye” is treated as the ultimate measure of justice, there are no considered winners in a lifelong war of vengeance, and there are absolutely no victors in vendettas. 

It was broad daylight. Ampatuan was riding in a black SUV when two men ambushed him with a rocket-propelled grenade. The assailants popped out of a white minivan; one dropped to a knee and fired the rocket launcher, while the other shot rifle rounds. Despite the near-death attack, the mayor survived and fled the scene in an armored vehicle—a precaution taken after he was wounded in previous assassination attempts in 2014 and 2019—marking the fourth attempt on his life since 2010. He may well be a political cat who had already cheated death with nearly half of his nine lives taken.

Indicating a deeper, more persistent force at play to take Ampatuan to his end, the ambush underscores the enduring legacy of political violence tied to clan rivalries—as epitomized by the Ampatuan name. Its legacy is sustained not by myth alone, but by impunity, delayed justice, and a state having weak institutional memory, often forgetting the aggression that comes from a known name. The Ampatuan name continues to wield power not despite its bloody history, but because few have ever been truly held to account for it. The historical backdrop of the fragility of public safety in the region, and the critical challenge facing the Bangsamoro Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao (BARMM)’s quest for stable, and inclusive autonomy, is rooted mainly to one of the most devastating acts of electoral violence in the Philippines—the 2009 Maguindanao Massacre. 

November 23, 2009—it was almost 17 years ago when 58 people were killed in the worst case of election-related violence in Philippine history. Maguindanao gubernatorial candidate Esmael Mangudadatu was about to file his certificate of candidacy (COC), but he decided to stay home after receiving death threats from an anonymous contact. Instead, he sent his wife, his other relatives, and a convoy of 32 journalists to file and cover his COC on his behalf. As the afternoon approached, the convoy was eventually stopped at a checkpoint and was executed by over a hundred gunmen in what was meant to be a show of dominance during an election dispute. That incident still stands as the deadliest single attack on journalists in world history, according to Reporters Without Borders.

A decade later, several Ampatuans were heavily implicated in orchestrating the massacre; Datu Andal Ampatuan Jr. and his brother Zaldy Ampatuan were convicted and sentenced to reclusion perpetua without parole. While others, including Akmad Ampatuan were acquitted on legal grounds—a ruling that was not a moral exoneration and did nothing to dismantle the clan’s power. Rather, it allowed remaining family members to continue asserting control over towns in Maguindanao del Sur.

It is important to note, however, that Akmad Ampatuan chose to distance himself from his relatives following the 2009 Maguindanao massacre and cooperated with the prosecution and testified against his own family, including the late patriarch Andal Ampatuan Sr. This distinction matters, but it does not alter the broader political reality. Individual divergence did not bear dynastic collapse.

What persisted, despite convictions, acquittals, and internal fractures, was the propagation of the Ampatuan dynasty itself. Studies on clan politics in ARMM identify the Ampatuans as the “fattest” political dynasty in Maguindanao after the 2010 elections, holding 16 out of 54 elective positions controlled by political clans—far surpassing rival families. Such concentration of power raises a fundamental question: whether leadership still resides with the electorate, or with dynasties so entrenched that power has long ceased to be truly democratic. 

The attempts on Akmad Ampatuan’s life appear to follow a pattern of retaliation, first surfacing after the 2009 massacre, and now coinciding with the approach of the first-ever Bangsamoro Parliament Elections—which earlier had to be postponed due the lack of Bangsamoro Electoral Code. It is almost too easy to recognize this as an attempt not just to take revenge but a permanent end for the Ampatuan dynasty. While the Philippine National Police suspects considered terrorist group Dawlah Islamiya and the Bangsamoro Islamic Freedom Fighters as “groups of interest”, the police eventually participated in combat operations and killed three of Akmad’s attackers.

This exchange of assault is an uncomfortable but necessary reminder that political power in parts of Mindanao remains haunted by a long and unresolved history of bloodshed. As Maguindanao del Sur moves forward under the BARMM framework, the ambush raises urgent questions: Has political violence merely changed its form? Is regional autonomy truly enough to disrupt cycles in vengeance, or entrench local power beyond accountability? In a landscape where retribution defines the culture, there are no victories in taking back lifelong debts to wrest sovereignty away from dynasties, and back to the people. 

The ambush suggests that autonomy does not automatically dismantle the entrenched power structures—political dynasties maintained by fear and force. What is particularly alarming is the timing now that Maguindanao del Sur is part of BARMM, a region created with the promise of self-governance, peace, and a break from decades of armed conflict and centralized neglect as per the Bangsamoro Organic Law. While autonomy was supposed to represent and empower local institutions, allow culturally sensitive governance, and reduce the conditions that fuel violence, the ambush makes clear that formal self-rule alone cannot uproot dynasties that have long thrived on violence and impunity.

This has serious implications for public safety. When even high-ranking local officials can be attacked in public spaces and in broad daylight, ordinary citizens are left wondering how secure they really are. Violence aimed at political figures does not stay confined to politics—it spills into everyday life, discouraging civic participation. People become hesitant to trust that justice will be served without bloodshed. This has to be the underlying issue the Marcos Administration and law enforcement authorities should have to focus their lenses on as they cannot afford to be complacent in providing BARMM the green flag to take its first steps from transitional authority to a permanent self-governing body. The Ministry of the Interior and Local Government (MILG-BARMM) must take concrete measures to safeguard public officials and ordinary citizens alike, prevent further political violence, and ensure that BARMM’s transition to full self-governance is not undermined by dynastic power and impunity. 

Beyond this, there is also a broader national concern. Autonomy should not mean isolation. The national government still has a responsibility to ensure that justice, security, and human rights are upheld in BARMM. If jurisdiction becomes blurred or enforcement is uneven, violence may thrive in the gaps. For once, members of the interim parliament along with the Bangsamoro Transition Authority (BTA) should abstain from proposing a system that merely perpetuates their long hold on some localities that grew as their fiefdoms. To think of it, it is unfortunate that this is how many political leaders in the region are oriented: that their pedestals are hereditary, and often treated as family heirloom to be handed down from one generation to another.

The lesson is clear: vengeance has never delivered lasting political victory in Maguindanao. The massacre did not secure peace. Assassination attempts do not restore order. Retaliation does not strengthen leadership. Every act of political violence only postpones justice and multiplies suffering, pushing the region further away from the promise of autonomy. Killing a member of the Ampatuan dynasty served cold in retribution will not free the Muslim Mindanao from their lifelong dream of peace; instead, risks will merely unravel if violence is left unchecked. Both regional and national authorities must reject the normalization of vendettas and demonstrate that political conflicts will be resolved through institutions and policies that would abolish powertripping systems such as political dynasties.

Violence may silence rivals, but it never settles political disputes as it only passes them down. As Maguindanao moves forward under autonomy, it must finally confront the truth: that there are no victors in vendettas, and they only guarantee that loss will outlive every claim to power. 

Article: Shane Elijah Dinglasan

Cartoon: Allaine Chesca Arcaya