Twelve days have passed since President’s Rule (PR) was imposed in Manipur on February 13, 2025, yet the state remains far from stability. In a recent appeal, Governor Ajay Kumar Bhalla urged communities to surrender looted weapons within seven days, assuring no punitive action would be taken if people voluntarily returned arms. He framed this as a gesture toward peace, emphasizing that Manipur must unite to rebuild trust and normalcy.
However, this appeal raises deeper concerns about the state’s failure to disarm militias, curb lawlessness, and restore trust. More than 6,000 police weapons were looted during the ethnic violence that erupted on May 3, 2023, and despite multiple appeals for their return, only 2,000 weapons have been recovered. If PR is truly meant to restore governance, then why is the administration issuing mere appeals instead of taking decisive action?
The reality is that PR has done little to dismantle militant networks, address ethnic grievances, or provide a political roadmap beyond temporary damage control.
A fundamental question at the heart of the crisis is: Whose narrative will shape Manipur’s future? The Meitei establishment calls for a return to normalcy without acknowledging state complicity in the violence.
The Kuki-Zomi population demands justice, self-governance, and an end to their marginalization. Meanwhile, the central government remains preoccupied with Myanmar’s instability, subtly shifting focus away from its failures in Manipur.
The call to surrender weapons is symbolic, but symbolism alone will not bring peace. Without structural reforms, a neutral administration, and an honest reckoning with the deep political and ethnic divides, PR will be nothing more than a brief intermission before another cycle of violence begins. The time for empty appeals has passed, and Manipur needs a real political solution.
Contradictions of the ‘Greater Common Good’ Politics
The rhetoric of a “greater common good” being pushed by certain Meitei leaders assumes that Manipur’s fractured communities can be unified under the existing political structure. This framing, however, glosses over the asymmetry of power, historical injustices, and state complicity that have driven the current conflict. The demand that the Kuki-Zomi population simply accept their position within the present system disregards the entrenched biases, violent persecution, and systemic exclusions they have endured for decades.
The notion of the state as an absolute, indivisible entity is itself a construct—one that is maintained through governance structures, not through blind allegiance. The idea that Manipur’s territorial integrity is sacrosanct while simultaneously refusing to address the legitimacy crisis of its governance model is contradictory. The principle that a state’s right to exist is contingent on its ability to uphold justice and equity must be acknowledged. A state is not simply a set of borders; it is the sum of the people within it, and when those people face political and physical erasure, the moral legitimacy of the state’s current structure is rightfully called into question.
Calls for a “greater common good” also ignore the state-backed nature of the ethnic violence that has gripped Manipur. From the deliberate arming of Meitei militias to the enabling of extremist groups like Arambai Tenggol, the state has not been a neutral actor. It has actively contributed to the displacement and disenfranchisement of tens of thousands of Kuki-Zomi civilians. Any attempt to return to pre-conflict normalcy without addressing these power asymmetries is not a call for unity but a demand for submission.
This narrative also overlooks the structural impunity that has allowed violence to persist.
Repeated failures to prosecute those responsible for mass violence have created a culture in which ethnic cleansing can occur without consequences. In such an environment, reconciliation cannot be imposed by fiat. It must come from dismantling the state structures that have enabled targeted persecution, ensuring actual representation for all communities, and holding those responsible for ethnic violence to account.
The question is not whether Manipur should remain whole but whose interests its political framework serves. If governance exists to protect the interests of one community at the direct expense of another, then the demand for unity becomes a demand for subjugation. If the Indian state truly believes in democracy, it must guarantee justice and equal representation for all, not to enforce an oppressive status quo under the guise of national integrity.
If the greater common good is to be realized, it cannot be dictated by those who hold the reins of power alone. It must be built on acknowledging past injustices, ensuring political representation for the marginalized, and dismantling the structures that perpetuate ethnic violence. Only then can reconciliation be more than just rhetoric—it can become a legitimate path forward.
President’s Rule: A Pause, Not a Solution
President’s Rule in Manipur has been framed as a mechanism to restore order. But its real function appears to be little more than a temporary political tool—a brief pause before the reinstallation of the very structures that fueled the crisis. The imposition of PR is not a recognition of governance failure but an attempt to maintain control while deferring difficult political decisions. Without a long-term strategy, PR is just creating breathing space for those in power to reassert themselves.
PR has been imposed on Manipur eleven times, yet each intervention has failed to bring structural change. Rather than addressing the foundational issues of ethnic tensions, political exclusion, and state-sponsored violence, it has historically acted as a reset button—temporarily silencing conflicts without resolving their root causes. If PR were a true corrective measure, it would focus on dismantling power asymmetries and fostering genuine reconciliation. Instead, it is being used to stabilize the political climate just enough to justify a return to business as usual.
The failure of PR to provide real solutions lies in its inherent contradictions. It claims to be a measure to restore governance, yet it has done nothing to hold political and militant actors accountable for orchestrating violence. It seeks to establish law and order, yet state-backed armed groups remain untouched. It presents itself as a step toward democracy, yet it actively suppresses the political aspirations of the Kuki-Zomi population by reinforcing a governance model that has systemically excluded them.
The real measure of PR’s success will not be in whether it temporarily suppresses violence but in whether it paves the way for a political roadmap that ensures representation, security, and justice for all communities. If PR serves only to reinstate the same power structures that led to this crisis, then it is not a solution—it is a managed delay. The question remains: Is this PR about restoring democracy or protecting political interests at the expense of justice?
Conclusion: Whose Manipur Will It Be?
The imposition of the President’s Rule in Manipur is not a solution but a moment of reckoning. It is a test of whether the Indian state will continue to uphold a political structure that has systematically marginalized an entire community or whether it will finally acknowledge that stability cannot be built on exclusion and oppression. If the past 21 months of conflict have proven anything, it is that a forced status quo does not equate to peace. Manipur’s future cannot be dictated solely by the political elite in Imphal or New Delhi; all its people must shape it.
The choice before India is clear: continue to impose governance that perpetuates ethnic hierarchy and systemic violence or take bold steps toward political restructuring that reflects the realities of Manipur’s diverse communities. Justice, representation, and equity are not threats to national integrity—they are the foundations of a unified state. The future of Manipur, and by extension, the credibility of India’s federalism, depends on which path is chosen now.
The question remains—will India prioritize political expediency over justice, or will it have the courage to create a system where all its citizens, regardless of ethnicity, can truly belong? Because, in the end, a state does not survive on slogans of unity alone; it survives when every one of its people can call it their own.
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