The violent conflict that engulfed Manipur in May 2023 did not merely produce a humanitarian catastrophe; it reconfigured the political landscape of the state in ways unprecedented since the post-merger decades. The immediate images that circulated –burning homes, villages, ethnic enclaves, flight across districts, firings, killings, and fortified villages – captured only the surface of a deeper political recalibration. Beneath the immediate violent conflict lay an emerging, assertive project – the reorganisation of political authority among Kuki-Zomi elites and their alignment with militant objectives framed as ethnic self-determination. While the Meitei public and political sphere have debated state responses, the discourse within Kuki-Zomi society has been shaped by the consolidation of militant influence, the displacement and trauma of tens of thousands, and the construction of a new political identity centred on the idea of a separate administration as a Union Territory carved out of Manipur.
At the heart of the debate lies a contested question – did Kuki-Zomi militants and the invisible forces advocating dismemberment of Manipur politicise, coerce, or strategically instrumentalise the Kuki-Zomi MLAs, internally displaced persons, and community organisations to advance their project? This article argues that while the picture is neither monolithic nor straightforward, there is significant evidence that the political trajectory of Kuki-Zomi leadership and civil society during the violent conflict has been shaped, guided, and at times compelled by militant-driven agendas. To understand this process, one must examine the longstanding armed politics in the region, the structural conditions created by the Suspension of Operations (SoO) agreements, the atmosphere of fear produced by displacement, and the political economy that undergirds the conflict.
A Homeland Imaginary and the Long Arc of Armed Politics
Although current demands for a separate administration emerged publicly during the 2023 violence, they are part of a longer ideological arc. The idea of a Kuki-Zomi homeland –whether termed as Zalengam, Kukiland, Zoland, Zogam, or a separate administrative region – has periodically surfaced in militant and political manifestos since the late twentieth century. This homeland imaginary was shaped partly by their persistent narratives of dispersal, colonial-era boundary changes, and grievances about exclusion from state-level power structures. However, it was the emergence of Kuki-Zomi armed organisations from the late 1980s and early 1990s onward that gave militant muscle to these aspirations.
For decades, Kuki-Zomi militant groups operated as fractured entities, competing for territorial control and political influence. Organisations such as the Kuki National Organisation (KNO), Kuki National Front (KNF), Zomi Revolutionary Army (ZRA), Zomi Revolutionary Front (ZRF), Kuki Revolutionary Army (KRA) Kuki National Army (KNA), Kuki Revolutionary Army (KRA), and various Hmar, Paite, and Zomi armed groups built armed infrastructures in the hills of Churachandpur and Kangpokpi, as well as in the borderlands adjoining Myanmar. The 2005 Suspension of Operations (SoO) agreement between the Assam Rifles and the Kuki militant groups later culminated in a tripartite SoO agreement in 2008 – between the Kuki National Organisation (KNO) as an umbrella organisation of 17 Kuki militant groups and United People’s Front (UPF) another umbrella organisation of eight other Kuki militant groups on the one part, the Government of India (GOI) and the Government of Manipur (GOM) on the other part as two governmental entities – altered this dynamic by freezing conflicts between militant groups and the state without disbanding the groups themselves. However, the fact is that there was no any violent conflict between the Kuki militants groups and the Indian Army and paramilitary forces. The SoO created a grey zone – though the arms are said to have been deposited most of the militants remained armed, maintained camps, and often expanded administrative influence, while technically not engaging in direct hostilities. This arrangement enabled militants to become de facto authorities in certain areas, mediating disputes, collecting taxes, and influencing political processes.
The SoO also produced a kind of institutionalised militarism in the Kuki-Zomi dominated hill districts of Manipur. It permitted militant groups to consolidate power without incurring the risks of open warfare. By 2023, many of these groups had established their own bureaucratic hierarchies, political wings, and networks of influence. When violence erupted in May, these structures were activated with remarkable efficiency. The narrative of existential threat to the Kuki-Zomi community became the ideological glue binding diverse factions into a unified political front. This synchronisation laid the groundwork for the politicisation and instrumentalisation that followed.
Kuki-Zomi MLAs and the Politics of Coerced Consensus
The issuance of the now widely discussed statement on May 12, 2023 by ten Kuki-Zomi MLAs demanding a Separate Administration (SA) marked a turning point in the political conflict. Its timing was significant. It was released when Kuki-Zomi villages were under militant and community mobilisation, when MLAs had fled Imphal due to the violence, and when their physical mobility was also restricted due to the failure of the state. In this volatile moment, militants and their supporters exercised substantial influence over public sentiment, political messaging, and the safety of elected representatives.
Evidence indicates that the MLAs’ demand was shaped within a context of both coercion and political opportunity. Several MLAs reportedly attended meetings where militant presence was visible, either directly or through associated organisations. Their travel and public appearances were often accompanied by armed escorts, lending weight to the argument that their agency was conditioned by the security situation. Social media campaigns orchestrated from accounts linked to militant supporters targeted any hint of dissent, branding dissenting voices as traitors or collaborators. This atmosphere of pressure created a situation in which MLAs had limited room to articulate alternative positions.
At the same time, it would be inaccurate to portray the MLAs as passive actors. For some, aligning with the militant-backed narrative offered a path to political survival and community legitimacy. In constituencies where militants exert influence over electoral behaviour, aligning with the dominant ethnic line could ensure future re-election prospects. Ethnocentric politics in Manipur has long been shaped by the expectation that MLAs must “represent the voice of the community,” and in times of conflict, this expectation hardens into a demand for public conformity.
The combination of survival instincts, ethnic obligations, and coercive pressure produced what may be termed a coerced consensus. It is not a consensus freely arrived at, nor one entirely imposed. Rather, it is a convergence created under exceptional circumstances, where the boundaries between political representation and militant-enforced narrative were blurred. The MLAs’ statement, therefore, represents both a symptom of the community’s political climate and an instrument in the larger territorial project.
The Politics of Displacement: Instrumentalising IDP Suffering
Among the most tragic aspects of the conflict is the widespread displacement of civilians. Tens of thousands of Kuki-Zomi people were driven from their homes in Imphal, creating some of the largest IDP clusters in recent memory. Yet the humanitarian crisis quickly became intertwined with political mobilisation. Camps established to house the displaced soon evolved into controlled narrative spaces where trauma, insecurity, and ethnic anger were channelled toward a single political goal – the consolidation of support for the demand of separation.
Displacement generates fear, and fear generates dependency in the new power structure. IDPs in Churachandpur, Kangpokpi, Moreh, and other districts, and cities outside Manipur were dependent on community organisations, churches, student unions, and in some cases militant-linked committees for access to aid, shelter, and protection. Within these structures, certain narratives were amplified. The idea that returning to Imphal or mixed areas was impossible; that coexistence with Meiteis was no longer safe; and that only a Separate Administration could guarantee security became dominant themes echoed across camp meetings, relief distribution ceremonies, and interactions with journalists.
It is important to recognise that these narratives were rooted in genuine trauma. Many IDPs lost loved ones, saw homes burned, and fled. Their sense of betrayal and fear is not unreal. Yet trauma can be politicised. As international conflict scholarship shows, displaced communities often become political symbols whose suffering lends moral weight to separatist or militarised agendas. In the ongoing violent conflict in Manipur, IDP narratives were curated and disseminated by militant-linked actors, civil society leaders, and diaspora organisations to strengthen claims of ethnic cleansing and to justify calls for international intervention.
Kuki-Zomi diaspora groups played a crucial role in projecting IDP suffering onto global platforms. Rallies held in Western cities, petitions submitted to foreign parliaments, and social media campaigns often presented the displacement as part of a genocidal project. While advocacy is legitimate, the framing frequently mirrored militant narratives more closely than those of neutral humanitarian assessments. The IDP population, therefore, became central not only to local politics but to international lobbying efforts, effectively transforming human suffering into a political asset.
Civil Society: Between Voluntary Alignment and Covert Co-option
Civil society organisations represent the public conscience of a community, but in conflict zones they often transform into vehicles for political mobilisation. Among Kuki-Zomi organisations, this transformation became pronounced after the violence. Groups that traditionally engaged in student issues, tribal welfare, women’s empowerment, and church activities shifted their focus toward political advocacy centred on territorial separation and ethnic protection.
The degree to which these organisations operated independently varied significantly. Some genuinely reflected the sentiments of their membership. Others were pressured, influenced, or infiltrated by militant factions. Organisations that attempted to articulate moderate positions faced severe backlash. Instances of social ostracism, threats, and accusations of betrayal were reported against community leaders who urged caution or emphasised dialogue. This chilling effect suppressed dissent and created an impression of unanimity within Kuki-Zomi civil society. Newly formed Committee on Tribal Unity (COTU) in Kangpokpi areas and Indigenous Tribal Leaders’ Forum (ITLF) in Churachandpur areas replaced the traditional and influential organisations of the Kukis. Later, the newly formed Kuki-Zo Council (KZC) functions as the overarching organisation of all the Kuki-Zomi organisations including COTU and ITLF.
In this controlled public sphere, civil society organisations became extensions of a broader militant-influenced political ecosystem. They mobilised protests, organised blockades, coordinated messaging, and maintained discipline within IDP camps. They also acted as intermediaries between militants and the civilian population, delivering instructions or shaping public opinion according to the prevailing militant strategy, and between militants and the Government of India (GOI) as well.
The alignment of civil society with militant narratives was further reinforced by the erosion of State presence in hill districts. As government institutions weakened due to conflict and mistrust, community organisations filled the void. This enhanced their moral authority while simultaneously making them susceptible to militant influence. What emerged was a civil society landscape where organisations operated with limited autonomy and where slogans of ethnic survival overshadowed democratic deliberation.
The “Invisible Forces”: A Geopolitical and Economic Overlay
The conflict cannot be analysed solely through local dynamics. Several external and structural forces have shaped the environment in which militant influence grew. The Indo-Myanmar border remains one of the most porous and conflict-prone frontiers in South Asia. The military coup in Myanmar in February 2021 destabilised the region, weakening the Tatmadaw and enabling ethnic armed organisations and local militias to expand their influence. This instability spilled across the border, creating safe havens, weapons flows, and cross-border ethnic solidarities that strengthened Kuki-Zomi armed groups in Manipur.
The narcotics economy adds another layer to the conflict. The Indo-Myanmar border forms a segment of the Golden Triangle trafficking network. Control over certain hill territories in Manipur corresponds directly to control over poppy cultivation zones, trafficking routes, and extortion opportunities. Militant ambitions for territorial autonomy cannot be separated from this political economy. A Separate Administration would potentially provide a geopolitical and economic corridor advantageous to certain militant groups and external syndicates.
Diaspora activism also plays a role. Global Kuki-Zomi communities have mobilised resources, media influence, and political connections to support the separatist narrative. Their interventions, often conducted from afar, sometimes amplify exaggerated or selectively framed accounts that resonate strongly with not only Western liberal sensibilities but also Indian left-liberals and rights activists around indigenous rights and minority persecution. These narratives, though emotionally compelling, often obscure the complexities of ground realities.
Together, these forces form an ecosystem of influence – a mix of militant groups, transnational networks, economic syndicates, and diaspora advocates – that converge toward the reordering of Manipur’s territorial and political structure. These are part of the “invisible forces” that shape the conflict from behind the scenes, enabling militants to project themselves as defenders of the community and giving them ideological and material resources to shape political outcomes.
Mechanisms of Influence and the Erosion of Democratic Agency
The relationship between militants and political or civilian actors is mediated through mechanisms of influence that emerge in contexts of fear, displacement, and institutional vacuum. Militants exert leverage through the physical control of territory, which allows them to regulate movement and communication. They shape public narratives by managing access to IDP camps, by influencing both local and national media, and even some foreign media, and by coordinating online campaigns. They cultivate dependency by controlling humanitarian distribution channels or by offering protection in volatile environments. They suppress dissent by making public disagreement costly and risky.
All these mechanisms operate within a broader structural context where state authority is weakened or almost absent. In such circumstances, residents depend more heavily on the armed groups that control their spaces as Central Security Forces remain unopposed to the Kuki-Zomi militants. This creates a parallel governance system in which militants gain legitimacy as both protectors and rulers. Political and civil society leaders, therefore, function within a constrained environment, where their decisions are shaped by necessity as much as by conviction.
The effect is a significant erosion of democratic agency. MLAs cannot freely articulate alternative political visions, and civil society cannot express internal diversity. IDPs cannot choose their own political narratives without risking denial of aid or community backlash. The public sphere becomes dominated by a single narrative that mirrors militant objectives, while opposing views are silenced. This results in a manufactured consensus, not solely through overt coercion but through the structural dynamics of conflict and displacement.
Long-Term Consequences: The Entrenchment of a Militarised Political Identity
The convergence of armed power, political alignment, civil society mobilisation, and displaced populations around the demand for a Separate Administration has long-term implications for Manipur. It fosters a political identity that is militarised, territorial, and exclusionary. The youth within Kuki-Zomi society, shaped by conflict-era messaging, are growing up with hardened views about separation and ethnic sovereignty. Moderate voices risk intimidation, marginalisation, and community debate narrows into militarised binaries.
The collapse of mixed settlements and the creation of ethnically homogenous enclaves in some areas deepen this separation. As IDPs are made to accept permanent displacement as their reality grievances risk crystallising into irredentist identity. Yet this process is not organic; it is steered by structures of influence that benefit from territorial fragmentation.
Peace becomes difficult when political positions reflect not democratic deliberation but fears, pressures, and militant narratives. Even if negotiations resume, militants and their aligned civil society groups will continue to claim representation for the community, side-lining more moderate or dissenting leaders. The possibility of restoring Manipur’s territorial integrity depends on dismantling these structures of coercion and influence.
Conclusion: Reclaiming Political Agency from the Shadow of the Gun
The question of whether Kuki-Zomi militants and the invisible forces they are connected to politicised, coerced, or instrumentalised MLAs, IDPs, and civil society is not merely theoretical. The evidence across multiple fronts indicates a clear pattern of influence. Militants serve as de facto authorities in many hill districts. MLAs operate within an environment shaped by fear, dependency, and political survival strategies. Civil society organisations reflect militant narratives more than independent civic discourse. IDPs, traumatised and vulnerable, are mobilised as symbols to justify separatist demands. External actors – geopolitical, economic, and diaspora-based – reinforce these internal dynamics.
Yet acknowledging these dynamics does not invalidate the real suffering endured by common civilians belonging to Kuki-Zomi groups, nor does it deny the genuine grievances they carry. Instead, it highlights the tragedy that a community already devastated by violence is further constrained by the structures that claim to represent and defend it. The homeland project, presented as a path to security and dignity, is in reality a product of coerced consensus and militant-dominated political space.
Any lasting peace in Manipur will require disentangling political leadership from militant influence, restoring democratic autonomy to civil society, and ensuring that IDP communities regain the freedom to form political opinions outside the shadow of fear and dependency. The challenge is immense, but without addressing these internal coercive structures, the prospects for reconciliation, coexistence, and a unified Manipur remain distant.
Senior Editor: Imphal Review of Arts and Politics
