The swearing in of Yumnam Khemchand as the 13th Chief Minister of Manipur on 4 February, heading a BJP-led NDA government in the state, marks neither a return to normalcy nor a substantive democratic renewal. It represents, rather, a politically compelled restoration of an elected executive after nearly a year of President’s Rule – an intervention that failed to resolve the structural breakdown of constitutional governance triggered by the violence of 3 May 2023. The reinstallation of an elected government does not automatically restore the rule of law, nor does it dissolve the entrenched architecture of fear, displacement, and armed coercion that has come to define Manipur’s fractured public sphere nowadays.
This government has emerged not from reconciliation or accountability but from political necessity. National electoral calculations, the need to prepare for the 2027 Manipur Assembly election, the imperative of retaining the state’s lone Rajya Sabha seat, and the strategic anxieties of India’s eastern frontier have converged to prioritise governmental form over democratic substance. Yet the test before Khemchand is not whether he can manage usual coalition arithmetic or bureaucratic routine. It is whether his administration can restore the fundamental constitutional guarantees that have been suspended in practice ~ the right to life with dignity, equality before the law, and freedom of movement. The fragility of this “restored” democracy was exposed almost immediately.
On 5 February, violent protests erupted in Tuibong in Churachandpur district against “Kuki-Zo” MLAs who chose to participate in the new government formation. Roads were blocked, intimidation reported, and an unmistakable message delivered ~ constitutional participation would invite collective retribution. The protests were not mere expressions of dissent. They were acts of coercive politics designed to delegitimise representative authority and enforce a political veto through fear. The escalation did not end there. The instability deepened further on the evening of 7 February at Litan.
What began likely as an affray in which one Tangkhul was beaten up by some Kuki-Zomis who were said to be drunk had escalated into a full-fledged clash between Kuki-Zomi groups and Tangkhuls. More than 50 houses belonging to Tangkhul families were burned down within 48 hours. Three houses of Kukis adjacent to the Tangkhul homes were also affected. The government responded with curfew and suspension of internet services in Ukhrul district, Phungyar sub-division of Kamjong district and Lhungtin sub-division of Kangpokpi district. But administrative containment cannot obscure the deeper pattern emerging. Tangkhul bodies have alleged that Central Security Forces, particularly the Assam Rifles, were complicit or at least passive in the face of the attacks.
Whether these allegations withstand formal scrutiny or not, their very articulation signals a profound crisis of trust in the state’s security apparatus. The modus operandi of the Litan violence bears disturbing resemblance to earlier attacks carried out against Meitei settlements since May 2023. In previous instances, video clips circulated on social media showing Kuki-Zomi militants brandishing sophisticated firearms in moving vehicles, apparently mobilised for action. Hours later, violent attacks would follow. In Litan too, a video showing armed Kuki-Zomi militants wielding sophisticated weapons in a moving vehicle circulated in social media before the burning of Tangkhul houses.
The sequence ~ display of arms, circulation of intimidation, subsequent violence ~ suggests a pattern of performative coercion that has become normalised. The state’s failure to prevent or pre-empt such attacks underscores the persistence of armed impunity. When video evidence of armed mobilisation precedes violence and no preventive action follows, the deterrent capacity of the state stands compromised. The consequence is not merely episodic violence but the steady erosion of public confidence in the neutrality and effectiveness of law enforcement. Khemchand inherits this landscape of distrust, fragmentation, and hardened ethnic boundaries. His challenge is magnified by the internal configuration of power within his own government.
The Home portfolio is reportedly designated to Govindas Konthoujam, who had himself contended for the Chief Ministerial position with the blessings of former Chief Minister N. Biren Singh. Simultaneously, the Chairman of the Unified Command remains the Security Advisor, Kuldiep Singh, appointed in the immediate aftermath of the 3 May 2023 violence under the previous dispensation. This institutional continuity raises a critical question ~ does the Chief Minister command the coercive instruments of the state in substance, or does he preside over a security architecture whose strategic direction lies elsewhere? If operational authority over policing and counter-insurgency remains diffused between political executives and centrally aligned security structures, the capacity of the elected government to enforce uniform rule of law becomes uncertain.
The crisis in Manipur has never been merely ethnic; it is also institutional. Selective enforcement, uneven deployment, and perceived bias have corroded legitimacy across communities. Without unambiguous civilian control and transparent command responsibility, restoring faith in the state will remain elusive. The continued obstruction of national highways compounds this constitutional breakdown. NH-2 and NH-37 are not mere transport routes; they are lifelines connecting Manipur internally and to the rest of India. The effective restriction of Meiteis from safely accessing these highways represents a de facto suspension of citizens’ rights. Freedom of movement is not a negotiable privilege but a constitutional guarantee.
When highways become zones of intimidation, extortion or blockade, sovereignty itself is rendered partial. The events in Tuibong and Litan must therefore be read within a larger geography of coercion. Road blockades, threats to legislators, armed displays on social media, and burning homes collectively signal that political outcomes are being shaped by force rather than deliberation. In such an environment, democracy risks devolving into ritual without substance. The humanitarian dimension remains equally grave. Thousands of internally displaced persons (IDPs) continue to reside in relief camps nearly three years after the initial outbreak of violence. On 11 February, Chief Minister Khemchand visited Jiribam district and interacted with IDPs from both Meitei and Hmar communities.
The gesture was symbolically important. Yet symbolism cannot substitute for structural rehabilitation. Return, restitution, and reconstruction remain stalled by insecurity and mutual distrust. The Litan incident will further complicate prospects of return for Tangkhul families whose homes have been reduced to ashes. Displacement, once prolonged, ceases to be temporary. It becomes demographic re-engineering by default. If communities cannot safely return to their original habitations, the map of Manipur will be redrawn not through constitutional amendment but through violence-induced segregation. Accountability remains the missing pillar.
The violence of 3 May 2023, the looting of arms, the uneven response of security forces, and the failure to arrest visibly armed actors in public gatherings were never subjected to transparent judicial reckoning. Without accountability, impunity becomes institutional memory. Each new episode ~ Tuibong, Litan ~feeds on that memory. Equally destabilising is the persistence of the demand for a separate administration in the form of a Union Territory with legislature by sections of “Kuki-Zo” bodies and some MLAs. The protests, including the 12 February protest in front of the Churachandpur MLA L.M. Khaute against participation in the state government, suggest that constitutional engagement is being delegitimised within segments of the political spectrum. When legislative participation is punished and territorial reconfiguration is pursued under the shadow of armed mobilisation, federalism itself enters a zone of stress.
For the Indian Union, the implications extend beyond Manipur. If sustained coercion can generate administrative restructuring, it sets a precedent for conflict resolution through attrition rather than negotiation. Conversely, ignoring legitimate grievances risks deepening alienation. The challenge is to reopen political dialogue while unequivocally disarming and dismantling militant infrastructures. Accommodation without enforcement will legitimise violence; enforcement without dialogue will entrench grievance. Khemchand’s tenure is likely to be short before electoral processes resume momentum. Yet brevity does not diminish responsibility.
The immediate priorities are clear ~ guarantee free movement on national highways; ensure protection of all communities without discrimination; restore displaced families through secure rehabilitation; investigate allegations of security force complicity with transparent mechanisms; and reassert civilian supremacy over the security apparatus. The challenges before the Chief Minister Yumnam Khemchand are as big and tall as the Himalayas ~ a fractured society, armed non-state actors, institutional distrust, intra-party rivalries, central oversight, and a compressed timeline. But governance in crisis is defined precisely by whether constitutional minima can be restored under adverse conditions. Manipur today stands at a decisive juncture.
An elected government has returned, but sovereignty remains contested in practice. If intimidation continues to dictate political participation, if highways remain unsafe, if houses can be burned after armed parades on social media, if Kuki-Zomi militants are allowed to roam with arms and act as they want, and if accountability remains deferred, democracy will exist only as a procedural shell. The restoration of fundamental rights is not an abstract aspiration. It is the measure by which this government will be judged. The right to life with dignity, equality before the law, and freedom of movement are not community-specific entitlements; they are universal guarantees.
If Yumnam Khemchand can assert these guarantees uniformly ~ without fear, favour, subservience or electoral calculation ~ he may yet transform compulsion into credibility. If not, the return of an elected government will be remembered not as renewal but as another episode in the slow normalisation of a managed conflict where form survives but substance erodes. The choice before Manipur’s new leadership is stark: reassert constitutional sovereignty in practice, or preside over its continued fragmentation. The Republic’s credibility in its eastern frontier depends on that choice.
(THE VIEWS EXPRESSED ARE THAT OF THE AUTHOR AND DO NOT REPRESENT THOSE OF THIS NEWSPAPER) RAJKUMAR BOBICHAND IS A POLITICAL ANALYST, PEACE PRACTITIONER AND EXECUTIVE EDITOR OF THE IMPHAL REVIEW OF ARTS AND POLITICS. HE WRITES ON] GOVERNANCE, CONFLICT, AND PUBLIC POLICY IN NORTH-EAST INDIA)