Imkong Walling
The Bengal Eastern Frontier Regulation (BEFR), 1873, and the resultant Inner Line regime, have transformed into a contentious topic, pitting the idea of inclusivity against exclusivity.
To the majority of people from beyond the Northeast, having a visa-like travel regime within the country is antithetical to the very idea of one India. To people belonging to states where the BEFR is in effect, it is a legal “buffer,” to quote the Nagaland Home Commissioner, protecting “ultra-minority” communities in a country of 1.4 billion people from perceived demographic shifts.
The travel regime requires Indian citizens from other states to obtain permission to enter what are loosely called the Inner Line Permit (ILP) states— Arunachal Pradesh, Manipur, Mizoram and Nagaland.
For years, this ‘line’ has been the source of a deep schism. On one side stands a protectionist, nativist sentiment fueled by the fear of more populous majority communities out-populating small indigenous populations. On the other lies a constitutional argument for an inclusive India, where Article 19 guarantees the right of every citizen to move and settle freely.
The tension between these two worlds was palpable at the “National seminar” on the BEFR recently organised by the Inner Line Regulation Commission-Naga Students’ Federation (ILRC-NSF) in Dimapur. The seminar was divided between those calling for stricter enforcement to prevent an “influx” of non-natives, and those warning that such rigidity could lead to xenophobia and economic stagnation.
Chief Minister Neiphiu Rio — caught between the spectre of economic isolation and electoral well-being — struck a difficult middle ground, advocated for a system that protects the indigenous Naga identity while welcoming the investment and development necessary for the state’s survival.
But the “how” remains the thorniest part of the dilemma. How do apply the regulation without turning into a hermit state?
While Article 19(1)(e) allows for residency anywhere in India, Clause 5 of the same Article permits “reasonable restrictions” to protect the interests of Scheduled Tribes. When read alongside Article 371(A), which grants Nagaland unique autonomy over its customary laws and land, the ILP is constitutionally defensible. This was recently reinforced by the June 16, 2026, ruling of the Gauhati High Court upholding the extension of the ILP to Dimapur.
However, law is only half the battle. The other half is social— as pointed out by Advocate Shomona Khanna, the toxic immigration discourse. According to Khanna, dehumanising labels like “illegals” or “invaders” foster a culture of fear that would isolate Nagaland.
There is a tendency to expect visitors, scholars included, to sympathise with the native narrative, and Khanna’s dissection of the issue may not have sat well with the prevailing view. But reconciliation requires a mind that absorbs necessary, albeit uncomfortable, conversations.
So, where is the middle ground? A practical starting point lies in the ILRC-NSF’s own demand— the establishment of an autonomous, and transparent, ILP tribunal or commission.
The ILP should not be allowed to function as a cage. A protective wall and an open gate can co-exist, if stakeholders remain as willing to listen as they are to be heard than shutting the world out.
The writer is a Principal Correspondent at The Morung Express. Comments can be sent to imkongwalls@gmail.com
