COTABATO CITY – Fifty-one years ago, on September 24, 1974, a quiet coastal village in Malisbong, Palimbang, was transformed into a killing field. Soldiers stormed the H. Hamsa Tacbil Mosque and carried out one of the worst atrocities of Martial Law: the massacre of over 1,000 Moros, among them men rounded up for execution, women subjected to abuse, and children as young as 11 who never made it home.
The Palimbang Massacre for survivors and descendants is not just a statistic. It is living memory—of fathers who never returned, of mothers left widowed, of a community whose trauma has lingered across generations.
This week, the Bangsamoro Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao (BARMM) marked the 51st year of remembrance.
“We honor the martyrs of Palimbang. Their memory strengthens our struggle for justice and reinforces our pursuit of lasting peace,” former BARMM Chief Minister Ahod Ebrahim said. Ebrahim chairs the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF).
A silenced chapter
The massacre remained largely absent from mainstream accounts of Martial Law. While the 1970s saw widespread human rights violations across the Philippines, the stories of Moro communities—massacres in Jabidah, Manili, Tacub, and Palimbang—were often dismissed or downplayed.
“Palimbang reminds us that the violence of Martial Law was not just about silencing dissent in Manila. It was also about subjugating marginalized peoples on the peripheries,” said historian and peace researcher Abhoud Syed Lingga.
Families in Malisbong recall how military operations destroyed homes, boats, and mosques—stripping the community of livelihood and dignity. Survivors who dared speak often faced threats, forcing silence for years.
Struggle for recognition
It was only in 2014 that the Human Rights Victims’ Claims Board officially recognized the Palimbang Massacre as a Martial Law atrocity, opening the way for reparations. Yet for many, justice remains elusive.
“You cannot put a price on the lives lost. What we want is not only acknowledgment, and accountability. We also want assurance that this will not happen again,” said Bai Soraya, whose uncles were among those killed.
The Bangsamoro government has since worked to ensure memorialization—from community commemorations to school-based education—so the massacre is never erased from collective memory.
Memory as resistance
For BARMM leaders, remembering Palimbang is more than revisiting the past. It is also a reminder of why the peace process exists. “Our autonomy is born out of struggle and sacrifice,” Ebrahim said. “We owe it to the victims to safeguard this peace.”
Fifty-one years on, the names of the dead are still recited in hushed tones. Their memory fuels both grief and hope: grief for what was taken, hope for what must be built.
As the Bangsamoro government reminds the nation: “Never again.”
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