Dr. Shonreiphy Longvah
Associate Professor, Dept of Political Science, St. Joseph University
The creation of Nagaland as a state was neither incidental nor merely administrative; it emerged from a long and complex history of Naga assertions for self-determination. That legacy continues to shape contemporary political consciousness, not least in the persistent anxiety surrounding constitutional safeguards such as Article 371A. In recent years, comparisons – whether precise or overstated – with the abrogation of Article 370 and Article 35A in Jammu and Kashmir have sharpened apprehensions about the durability of existing political arrangements. These concerns form the wider backdrop against which current developments must be understood.
It is within this context that the ongoing tensions between Kuki and Naga in the foothill villages of Ukhrul district in Manipur – particularly Sinakeithei, Litan, Sharkaphung, and Thoyee – demand careful scrutiny. Reports suggest that the conflict began on February 8, 2026, in Litan village, initially as a localized dispute. However, its rapid transformation into an inter-community confrontation underscores the volatility of relations in the region. Such escalations are neither unprecedented nor accidental; they reveal how quickly everyday frictions can acquire broader ethnic and political dimensions.
Of particular concern is the recurring targeting of Sinakeithei village. Local accounts indicate that the village was not directly linked to the original cause of the confrontation in Litan. Yet it has reportedly faced repeated attacks over an extended period. This pattern suggests that the conflict has moved beyond its immediate triggers, taking on a more expansive character that residents increasingly interpret as deliberate. Whether or not such perceptions can be independently verified, they reflect a deepening sense of vulnerability and mistrust on the ground.
The human cost of this prolonged insecurity is stark. Eyewitness narratives point to a disruption of everyday life: livelihoods have been undermined, educational activities interrupted and social cohesion strained. Particularly alarming was the reported mobilization of a large, armed offensive on the night of April 8, 2026 – referred by Kuki militants as a “semi-final.” The scale of preparation suggested the possibility of a far more intense confrontation. While the intervention of central forces, including the Border Security Forces and the Mahar Regiment, averted an immediate escalation, the terminology itself is revealing. The notion of a “semi-final” implies the anticipation of a more decisive “final,” raising troubling questions about the trajectory of the conflict.
In such an environment, the question of endurance becomes unavoidable. How long can communities continue to function under the shadow of recurring violence, with peace sustained largely through temporary containment rather than structural resolution? The absence of durable mechanisms for conflict transformation risks normalizing a cycle of tension and reprieve, without addressing the underlying causes.
It is against this backdrop that recent statements by the Union Home Minister – particularly the assertion that insurgency in the Northeast will be eradicated by 2029 – invite critical reflection. At one level, the declaration signals a commitment to restoring order and stability. Yet, when situated within the historical and political context of the Naga movement, its implications are far from straightforward.
A central question concerns the means through which such an objective might be achieved. One possibility lies in a negotiated settlement through ongoing peace talks with Naga political groups.
However, despite decades of ceasefire arrangements and formal negotiations, there is a growing perception among sections of Naga society that these processes have yielded limited substantive outcomes. The absence of a clearly articulated and mutually acceptable settlement has contributed to a sense of fatigue and skepticism regarding the efficacy of dialogue as currently structured.
An alternative reading is that the goal of ending insurgency may increasingly be pursued through strategies of containment or coercion. In this framework, insurgency is approached less as a political question requiring resolution and more as a security challenge to be managed. Such an approach, while potentially effective in the short term, risks overlooking the deeper historical and political grievances that sustain conflict.
It is in this context that certain allegations – though contested and requiring careful verification – have gained traction in public discourse. Among these are claims that the state has, directly or indirectly, enabled Kuki militant groups operating under Suspension of Operation agreements to operate as a counterweight to Naga armed groups. While there is no official substantiation of such assertions, their circulation points to a widening trust deficit. Perceptions of uneven or strategically selective state policy, whether accurate or not, can have profound consequences, reinforcing suspicion and complicating efforts at reconciliation.
At the societal level, responses within Naga communities remain varied. Civil society organizations have largely emphasised restraint and the continuation of dialogue. Yet these efforts are often perceived as lacking sufficient leverage in the face of recurring violence. Conversely, the repeated attacks on villages such as Sinakeithei are interpreted by some as demonstrations of organised capacity, intended to shape both local realities and broader political negotiations.
This divergence has prompted renewed introspection within Naga discourse on the meaning of collective strength. The metaphor of the “big stick,” frequently invoked in contemporary discussions, is often misunderstood as a call for militarisation. In its original formulation, it signified interplay of restraint and credible power. In the present context, its relevance lies less in the endorsement of force and more in the imperative of unity, coordination, and political coherence. The challenge is to translate this idea into a form of collective agency that remains ethically grounded while also politically effective.
Any meaningful path forward must reckon with the insight that peace is not merely the absence of violence but the presence of justice. Durable solutions cannot emerge from short-term containment alone; they require an inclusive political settlement that addresses the aspirations and insecurities of all communities involved. This necessitates not only institutional engagement by also a transformation of attitudes at the societal level.
The situation in the foothills of Manipur is thus emblematic of a larger dilemma. If immediate crises are managed without confronting foundational political questions, the result is likely to be a fragile and temporary calm rather than lasting peace. For those living amid uncertainty and recurring threat, the question is neither abstract nor distant. It is immediate, lived, and urgent: how long must communities endure before a just and enduring resolution is realised?
