YET IN 1996, Misuari accepted autonomy and seemed to be enjoying his role as ARMM governor. He had big dreams: 10-lane highways, a seaport in Sulu, railroads crisscrossing Mindanao, foreign investments streaming in, and factories springing up like mushrooms. In short, peace and prosperity of the type he had seen his brother Muslims enjoy in places like Malaysia and the Gulf. Certainly, being Muslim did not mean being poor. He wanted to transform Sulu into a version of Hong Kong and Mindanao into a zone of prosperity that the Christians would envy.

	NUR MISUARI Photo by Lilen Uy

No one can accuse Nur Misuari of modest dreams. But he says he was denied the wherewithal to achieve them. "They promised me P45 billion as initial input for a 'mini-Marshall Plan' [for Mindanao]," he says bitterly. "But in the first year, I wasn't given a single cent for development." He was starved of money for his pet projects, he says, and all his ideas were stolen by the national government.

But Misuari's critics, including some of his former MNLF colleagues, accuse the chairman of being an inept administrator who spent most of his time speaking in conferences overseas than in running ARMM. Others say Misuari acted like a sultan during his governorship, a far cry from the spartan, almost ascetic revolutionary that he was in the 1970s. As governor, Misuari, they say, lived it up in hotels and had a penchant for delivering three-hour speeches while refusing to heed the frustrations of his men.

They say he has not been able to reform a culture of corruption that remains deeply embedded in Muslim Mindanao. Misuari snarls at this accusation. Not a single cent passed through him, he says, Besides, he says, the Moros learned corruption from the Filipinos. "Our people were very honest people until they learned [corruption] from here. The spoils system we learned from the Americans. I was a political science professor at the UP. I know where we got the spoils system. The number one industry in this whole country is corruption."

The fire still burns inside Nur Misuari. The government says that as his term as ARMM governor was about to end in 2001, he declared war against the government and encouraged his men to attack state troopers. Some 100 people died in the gunbattles that ensued, with Moro rebels holding children hostage to cover their trail as they retreated. The chairman denies this was his doing, saying that there were skirmishes in Sulu and the MNLF forces there were forced to act only in self -defense.

"War is terrible," he says. "It's a scourge to humanity. It's like fire, it eats up everything." And yet, Moro history, as the chairman tells it, is one of endless war. Misuari recites it over and over like a litany in the course of a rambling, three-hour interview where he refused to be interrupted: we fought the Spaniards for 377 years, then the British and the Dutch, the Americans and the Japanese, and then the Filipinos. "But who brought the war to Mindanao? Not us."

But isn't Moro history also one of betrayal and defeat? "What defeat?" he growls. "We are the winners. We are going to precipitate the disintegration of this country if our problem is not solved… Without justice, without sincerity on the part of the government, there can never be an end to the war in Mindanao."

The chairman's voice rises. The cottage is too small to contain his anger. "Do you think it's to the benefit of the government to allow me to rot here?" he asks rhetorically. "They will only be sowing the seeds of perpetual war in Mindanao if they do."

Fighting words. Right now, these are all Misuari has. — Sheila S. Coronel