In the rugged highlands of Manipur, where mist clings to the hills and the air hums with the tension of unresolved histories, a quiet war rages not on battlefields, but in the shadows of impunity. For decades, the Naga people—one of India’s oldest ethnic communities—have borne the brunt of a conflict that transcends borders, ideologies, and even state machinery. The recent allegations by the Tangkhul Naga Long (TNL), an apex body representing the Tangkhul Naga community, have once again exposed the grotesque reality: that justice in Northeast India is not blind, but highly selective. Between April and August 2026, at least 12 incidents of abduction, ambush, murder, and arson were reported across Manipur’s Ukhrul, Kangpokpi, Kamjong, and Noney districts—crimes that have largely slipped through the cracks of law enforcement, political will, and national memory. This is not merely a story of violence; it is a narrative of systemic failure, where the machinery of justice moves at a glacial pace for some, while remaining frozen for others.

The Architecture of Impunity: Why Justice Remains Elusive in Naga Regions

To understand why justice in the Naga conflict zones remains a distant dream, one must first dismantle the layers of political, historical, and institutional complicity that have allowed impunity to flourish. The Naga struggle is not a recent phenomenon—it spans over seven decades, rooted in the 1947 demand for sovereignty, the 1951 plebiscite, and the subsequent formation of insurgent groups like the National Socialist Council of Nagaland (NSCN). What began as a political movement for self-determination has, over time, fragmented into a labyrinth of armed factions, each vying for control over territory, resources, and identity. This fragmentation has created a vacuum—one that has been filled not by governance, but by violence.

The TNL’s latest allegations are not isolated incidents; they are part of a continuum. Between 2010 and 2025, over 1,200 civilians from Naga communities in Manipur alone were killed in insurgency-related violence, according to data compiled by the Manipur Human Rights Commission. Yet, conviction rates remain abysmally low—less than 15% in cases involving armed groups. This discrepancy is not accidental. It is the result of a deliberate pattern: when victims are Naga civilians, investigations are delayed, forensic evidence is mishandled, and perpetrators often walk free due to lack of political pressure or judicial urgency.

The situation is exacerbated by the porous 398-kilometer India-Myanmar border, which has become a safe haven for Myanmar-based militant outfits like the United Wa State Army (UWSA) and the Arakan Army (AA). These groups, often in collusion with local insurgent factions, have turned the Naga-inhabited hill districts into a battleground for resource control—timber, drugs, and extortion. The result? A toxic blend of transnational crime and ethnic violence that neither Manipur Police nor central forces have managed to contain.

The Human Toll: Families Left in the Dark

Among the most harrowing cases highlighted by the TNL is the abduction of 18 Liangmai Naga civilians on May 13, 2026, including women and children. Six of them were later killed, and their bodies were discovered only on June 10—nearly a month after the abduction. The delay in recovery points to a systemic failure: not just in law enforcement, but in the very idea of state responsibility. For families in remote villages like Kasom Khullen or Litan, the absence of a functioning justice system means that mourning is a luxury they cannot afford. There are no swift arrests, no transparent investigations, and certainly no closure.

This is not an anomaly. It is a pattern. In 2023, the killing of nine coal miners in Noney district—allegedly by state-backed forces—remained shrouded in mystery for over six months. In 2021, the ambush near Litan Police Station that killed two civilians was attributed to unidentified armed men, with no arrests made. The message is clear: in Manipur’s Naga regions, the state’s response is reactive at best, absent at worst. When justice is delayed, it becomes denial.

The Role of the State: A Crisis of Accountability

The allegations by the TNL are not just directed at local authorities in Imphal; they point a finger at the highest echelons of power in Delhi. The Union government’s approach to the Naga conflict has been one of prolonged negotiation, piecemeal agreements, and strategic neglect. The 2015 Framework Agreement between the Indian government and the NSCN-IM was hailed as a breakthrough, yet it has done little to curb violence in Manipur’s Naga districts. Instead, it has created a false sense of progress while the ground reality festers.

Manipur itself has been governed by a fragile coalition since 2022, with Chief Minister N. Biren Singh facing criticism for his handling of ethnic tensions. While his government has taken steps to curb poppy cultivation—a major revenue source for insurgent groups—it has simultaneously alienated Naga communities through policies like the Manipur (Protection of Manipur People) Bill, 2018, which many Naga leaders view as an attempt to dilute their constitutional protections under the Sixth Schedule.

The result is a paradox: while Delhi negotiates with Naga insurgent groups, it fails to protect Naga civilians. This selective engagement—where dialogue with armed factions takes precedence over the safety of ordinary citizens—has deepened the trust deficit. The TNL’s accusations of “selective justice” are not hyperbolic; they reflect a pattern where the state’s response is calibrated not by the severity of the crime, but by the political cost of inaction.

The Sixth Schedule: A Shield or a Mirage?

The Sixth Schedule of the Indian Constitution grants autonomous district councils to tribal regions, including parts of Manipur. Yet, in practice, these councils have limited powers, especially in matters of law and order. The Naga Hills District Council, for instance, has no jurisdiction over cases involving non-Naga armed groups or Myanmar-based militants. This legal lacuna has allowed armed factions to operate with impunity, knowing that local institutions lack the teeth to hold them accountable.

Moreover, the central government’s reluctance to expand the Sixth Schedule to cover all Naga-inhabited areas has fueled resentment. In 2020, the Manipur High Court struck down a demand for the creation of a separate Naga Hills Territorial Council, citing administrative constraints. Such decisions, while legally sound, have eroded confidence in the state’s commitment to tribal autonomy—a cornerstone of the Naga political narrative.

Broader Implications: The Regional Domino Effect

The crisis in Manipur’s Naga regions is not confined to its borders. It has ripple effects across Northeast India, where ethnic fault lines are increasingly exploited by both state and non-state actors. The rise of the Chin-Kuki-Mizo insurgency in Myanmar, for instance, has drawn Manipur’s Kuki-Zomi groups into a cross-border conflict that often spills into Indian territory. The result is a web of interlinked violence, where Naga, Kuki, Meitei, and Myanmar-based factions clash over land, identity, and resources.

This regional instability has caught the attention of international observers. The United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) has repeatedly flagged the humanitarian crisis in Manipur, noting that over 60,000 people have been displaced since 2023 due to ethnic clashes. Yet, Delhi’s response has been tepid at best, with relief camps operating underfunded and overcrowded conditions.

The geopolitical stakes are high. China’s growing influence in Myanmar, coupled with its historical support for Northeast Indian insurgent groups, adds another layer of complexity. The recent reports of Chinese arms being smuggled into Manipur via Myanmar’s Shan State have raised concerns in Indian intelligence circles. In this context, the failure to address Naga civilian killings is not just a domestic issue—it is a strategic vulnerability.

Toward Justice: Pathways Forward

Reversing the culture of impunity in Manipur’s Naga regions will require more than political rhetoric—it demands structural reform, institutional accountability, and a redefinition of what justice means in a conflict zone. Here are three critical steps:

1. Establish a Truth and Reconciliation Commission

South Africa’s post-apartheid Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) offers a model for addressing decades of violence without resorting to blanket amnesties or endless litigation. A similar body in Manipur could document atrocities, provide reparations to victims’ families, and facilitate community-level healing. The TNL has repeatedly called for such a mechanism, but Delhi has remained lukewarm, fearing that it could reopen old wounds or challenge the narrative of the Indian state.

However, the alternative—continued silence—is far worse. Without a formal process to acknowledge grievances, the cycle of violence will persist. The 2020 peace accord between the Indian government and the Assam-based Bodo militants, which included a rehabilitation package, proves that structured reconciliation is possible even in complex conflicts.

2. Strengthen Local Governance Under the Sixth Schedule

The Sixth Schedule must be expanded to grant greater autonomy to Naga-inhabited areas, particularly in law enforcement and resource management. This includes empowering district councils to investigate crimes involving tribal communities and collaborate with central forces without bureaucratic interference. Additionally, the central government should fast-track the inclusion of all Naga areas under the Sixth Schedule, as recommended by the Justice (Retd.) R.C. Chavan Committee in 2018.

Such reforms would not only restore trust in local institutions but also reduce the space for armed groups to operate. When communities feel represented, they are less likely to turn to militancy as a form of protest.

3. Transparent Cross-Border Security Cooperation

The India-Myanmar border cannot remain a lawless zone. The recent formation of the India-Myanmar-Thailand Trilateral Highway and the Kaladan Multi-Modal Transit Project underscores the need for regional security frameworks. Delhi must revive the stalled India-Myanmar Border Area Development Programme and enhance intelligence-sharing with Myanmar’s military junta, despite its controversial record. The alternative—allowing Myanmar-based militants to operate freely—only perpetuates the cycle of violence.

Moreover, the central government should consider deploying specialized units like the Assam Rifles or the Border Security Force (BSF) in high-risk zones, with a clear mandate to protect civilians, not just engage in counter-insurgency operations. The Assam Rifles’ “People’s Friend” initiative in Nagaland has shown that community policing can work when backed by political will.

Conclusion: The Cost of Silence

The Naga conflict is often framed as a historical relic—a struggle that belongs to the past. But in the villages of Ukhrul and the refugee camps of Kangpokpi, it is a daily reality. The TNL’s allegations are not just about 12 cases; they are about 12,000 cases of unanswered cries for justice. They are about a generation of Naga youth who have known only curfews, checkpoints, and unmarked graves. And they are about a nation that prides itself on its democratic ideals but turns a blind eye when those ideals are tested in its own backyard.

Justice in Northeast India cannot be selective. It must be swift, transparent, and inclusive. The failure to act now will not only deepen ethnic divisions but also embolden forces that thrive in chaos—both within and beyond India’s borders. The time for half-measures is over. The time for justice is now.