Next Stop Mindanao

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Under the top-gun command of Air Force Brigadier General Donald Wurster, head of all special operations in the Pacific, Army special forces, backed by commandos from other services, were setting up quarters last week for a 6- to 12-month stay at a camp on Mindanao, just a boat ride across the narrow strait from Basilan. Philippine counterparts are already taking delivery of U.S. equipment, including a C-130 cargo plane and eight Huey helicopters.

The formal job of the G.I.s is to teach 1,200 Philippine soldiers the latest in antiterrorist tactics and intelligence-gathering techniques. (The irony of the mission, coming after the U.S. failed to nab top terrorists in Afghanistan, goes unmentioned by the Pentagon.) Manila's brass complain that Abu Sayyaf has eluded capture because government forces get lousy information about the enemy's whereabouts. U.S. trainers will bring along sophisticated sensors and tracking devices to help pinpoint Abu Sayyaf's locations. In particular, they intend to improve the Philippine army's ability to hunt at night. The Pentagon refuses to explain what other actions the Americans might undertake, but Vickers and sources in Manila suspect that the special forces will attempt to rescue the American hostages. "If we could find them, I think we'd do it," says Vickers.

All this firepower seems a bit heavy just to take out the fading Abu Sayyaf. Some Bush officials last week puffed them as one of the world's most vile and violent Islamist terrorism clans. In reality, says a Pentagon aide, "they're more like the Bloods and the Crips than al-Qaeda and the Taliban." Arroyo has said Abu Sayyaf appears to have only a few old "traces of a relationship" with al-Qaeda.

The group first picked up steam in 1991 as an offshoot of a larger Muslim liberation organization that has been fighting for a separate Islamic state since the U.S. ended its occupation of the Philippines in 1946. Abu Sayyaf founder Abdurajak Janjalani heard the call of Muslim nationalism and joined the jihad against the Soviets in Afghanistan, where he met Osama bin Laden. At war's end Janjalani brought his new skills home with a message of violent Islamic rebellion that resonated among the Muslim minority, 5% of a largely Roman Catholic country.

From there, though, the ties to al-Qaeda grow tenuous. Abu Sayyaf is said to have bankrolled its initial gun purchases through the dubious charities of Philippine-based Mohammed Jamal Khalifa, bin Laden's brother-in-law. Khalifa had links to another Philippine bin Laden agent, Abdul Hakim Murad, who was arrested in 1995 for plotting to kill Pope John Paul II and for planning, with roommate Ramzi Yousef, to blow up 12 U.S. airliners simultaneously. Yousef used to pay the occasional call on his old mujahedin pal Janjalani.

But Abu Sayyaf never graduated to al-Qaeda-style international schemes. The organization's primary tactic was bombing local Christians, raiding military posts and pulling off for-profit kidnappings. Extortion and ransom have been paying its way for years. After Janjalani was killed in a firefight in 1998, the group fragmented into two factions, one headed by his brother Khaddafy Janjalani and based in Basilan, the other under the nominal leadership of one "Commander Robot," headquartered on Jolo Island. In April 2000 the Robot gang stormed a Malaysian dive resort and made off with 21 hostages, including 19 foreigners. The group eventually bartered them for $25 million, paid by Libya in a bid for Western goodwill. The ransom was spent on fresh recruits and high-tech weapons. A year later, members of the Basilan faction snatched 20 captives from a Philippine beach hotel. That batch included the U.S. missionaries and a third American, Guillermo Sobero, who was beheaded in June, said Abu Sayyaf spokesman Abu Sabaya, as a "gift" for President Arroyo.

Since becoming President in 2001, Arroyo has waged an aggressive but often inept campaign against Abu Sayyaf. Some also charge that pervasive corruption makes the army soft on the rebels. Even so, army firefights have pruned the group--which once held the allegiance of perhaps 2,000 Muslims, including 200 hard-core fighters--to about 80 devotees, who have had to split into two constantly traveling units.

Plenty of opposition politicians and ordinary Filipinos think Arroyo is being too welcoming to U.S. troops. Senior Filipino lawmakers question the legality of an "exercise" that brushes close to the constitutional ban on foreign combat and are worried that it is the first step toward re-establishing U.S. bases. Some analysts charge Arroyo with exaggerating Abu Sayyaf's strength in order to grab more American aid. And Muslim leaders in the southern zone fear the U.S. presence will reactivate mainstream separatist outfits.

But the Bush Administration betrays no doubt. "If we have to go into 15 more countries," said Rumsfeld, "we ought to do it to deal with terrorism." Abu Sayyaf may be a mere sideshow, but if the U.S. isn't yet ready to take on state sponsors of terrorism, then operations like this one may be the next best way to show the war isn't over.