The ongoing protests by the Naga people against the Government of India’s decision to fence the India-Myanmar border and suspend the Free Movement Regime (FMR) are not simply a matter of dissent — they are an assertion of history, identity, and dignity. These protests must not only be respected but also understood in the deeper context of historical injustice and continuing neglect.
For decades, the Naga people have lived with the scars of colonial cartography that arbitrarily divided them across two nations, India and Myanmar, without their consent, concern, or consideration. The Free Movement Regime, while imperfect, had been one small recognition of this cruel reality, allowing kin and communities separated by invisible lines to remain connected in culture, trade, and spirit. The abrupt suspension of the FMR and the push for border fencing now threatens to extinguish even that fragile thread.
The Government of India may cite national security and border management as reasons for its decision. But this is not merely a matter of geopolitics or bureaucratic logic — it is about real people, real lives, and a real history that continues to bleed. This issue involves the Naga people, not just the Indian state. It cannot be approached with an iron hand. It demands dialogue, understanding, and the courage to admit past wrongs.
The letter from the Ao Senden last November expressed the anguish felt across Naga society with piercing clarity. The fencing of ancestral lands, the denial of access to forests and fields that sustain lives, the severing of familial ties — these are not just policy consequences; they are violations of basic human dignity. The call to “do away with these illogical ideas” is not an emotional overreaction — it is a rational plea from a people who have too often been treated as subjects to be managed rather than citizens to be respected.
India has always claimed to recognize the “unique history and situation” of the Naga people. Now is the time to demonstrate that recognition in action. A truly democratic and welfare-oriented government does not impose decisions that alienate its people; it listens, engages, and adapts. By working with the Naga people instead of fencing them off, the Indian state has the opportunity to transform a moment of tension into one of reconciliation.
Yes, India can fence the border. It has the might. But should it do so without dialogue, without consent, and without regard for those who will suffer most? That is the question that tests not India’s strength, but its soul.
The Government of India must step back and reassess. It must talk to the people whose lives are intertwined with the border it seeks to seal. It must listen to voices of the Naga people. And above all, it must remember that true strength lies not in how firmly one can draw a line, but in how justly one can cross it.