Manipur crisis didn’t start with a single march; it started with years of unsolved questions about land, power, identity, and who gets heard.
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Three years after May 2023, hostages and blockades show the real crisis isn’t security — it’s broken trust
“There’s no fire without smoke” — old hill saying, but Manipur knows it too well. Three years after the first spark, the smoke hasn’t cleared and trust is stuck at zero. Homes are gone, roads cut, neighbours divided, while TV debates keep boiling it down to one fight. The truth is messier: Manipur’s crisis didn’t start with a single march. It started with years of unsolved questions about land, power, identity, and who gets heard. “Wounds that aren’t treated don’t heal — they just learn to hide.” That’s where we are now, with governance gaps, security worries, and the basic question of coexistence all raw and unfiltered.
Media reports point to the Tribal Solidarity March on 3 May 2023, held in opposition to the proposed inclusion of Meiteis in the Scheduled Tribe category, as the immediate trigger. What followed was a wave of violence that cost lives, destroyed homes, displaced thousands, and hardened social and geographic divisions. But crises of this scale rarely begin with one event. Beneath the surface lay decades of unresolved issues: land, demography, political representation, competing territorial aspirations, insurgency, governance gaps, and a growing sense of insecurity among different groups. May 2023 exposed tensions that had been simmering for years.
As violence spread, people pulled into separate spheres. Neighbours who lived side by side for generations found themselves divided by fear. Familiar roads became boundaries. Places that once stood for everyday coexistence began to represent separation. The erosion of trust became one of the deepest wounds, and it continues to shape daily life.
Manipur’s social and political fabric has always been more layered than any single framework suggests. The state is home to several groups whose histories, identities, and aspirations intersect in complex ways. Any serious attempt to understand the present must acknowledge this broader reality. Among those whose concerns came into sharper focus were the Nagas, long an important presence in Manipur’s hill districts. While Naga issues received less attention nationally at first, developments over the past year showed they could not stay on the margins.
Historical memory still casts long shadows in the hills. Questions of land, boundaries, customary rights, and competing claims remain sensitive. Memories of past clashes in the 1990s continue to shape perceptions today, even after years of relative calm. According to media reports, six Naga civilians were abducted by suspected Kuki armed groups from Leilon Vaiphei in Kangpokpi district on 13 May 2026 following the killing of three Thadou church leaders. Their whereabouts remain unknown, and the case was later handed over to the NIA. A localised security issue quickly became a matter of wider concern. Families waited for information, churches held prayers, civil society groups demanded action, and public frustration grew as answers stayed unclear. Differing narratives emerged about responsibility. Whether those can be verified is for investigators and courts. What cannot be disputed is the impact on public sentiment: the longer uncertainty lasted, the more it reinforced the belief that trust had reached a low point.
That uncertainty exploded on 1 June 2026. The United Naga Council had announced it would release 14 Kuki civilians held by the Naga Village Guard at 2 pm that day, citing government assurances on tracing the six missing Nagas. The decision drew immediate and strong opposition. Naga protestors stormed the UNC office in Senapati that evening. Elsewhere in Senapati district, people burned tyres, raised slogans, and blocked roads, with reports of armed forces vehicles held up at points. Facing pressure from Naga youth groups and civil society organizations who said the move was taken without adequate consultation and while the six Naga hostages were still untraceable, the UNC cancelled the release hours later, stating “considering the prevailing sentiments of the Naga public, the proposed release… hereby stands cancelled”. “Forget unity” became the mood on the ground. The episode laid bare divisions not just between groups, but within them — among Nagas, with local bodies like Senapati District Students’ Association objecting to UNC’s call; among Kukis, as 14 remained in Naga custody; and among Meiteis, as differing priorities and fears pulled people in different directions for one reason or another.
Leaders responded. Manipur’s Chief Minister appealed for calm and assured affected families that efforts were underway to trace the missing and establish facts, with national agencies involved. Chief Ministers of Nagaland and Meghalaya called for humanitarian priority over political differences, noting that instability in Manipur affects the wider Northeast. Churches and Baptist organizations also stepped in, launching peace initiatives and prayer campaigns. In a region where churches hold moral influence, their message of restraint and dialogue cut across political lines.
On security, the Government of India approved two battalions of CRPF’s elite CoBRA commandos for Manipur’s difficult terrain. The deployment strengthened operational capacity and signaled that New Delhi saw the need for specialized intervention beyond routine policing. Yet security operations can suppress violence and restore order. They cannot by themselves rebuild trust or resolve the deeper political and social questions behind the conflict.
History offers examples. Northern Ireland moved from decades of violence to power-sharing through dialogue and compromise. Bosnia ended large-scale war but still struggles with trust. Rwanda invested in reconciliation and institutions after profound loss. Manipur’s circumstances are distinct, but the lesson is shared: force can create stability. Sustainable peace depends on politics, institutions, accountability, and the will to coexist despite differences.
A durable solution must go beyond security. It must build confidence that concerns will be heard, rights protected, and futures secured. Manipur stands at a crossroads: deeper polarization and mistrust, or dialogue, accountability, and the slow work of rebuilding confidence among people who must share a future. History shows even societies with painful pasts can choose engagement over confrontation. For Manipur, that remains the challenge and the hope.
Mathew Rongmei