If Amit Shah Could Break Naxal Networks, Why Is Manipur Still Being Handled Like A Negotiation Workshop?
The images coming out of Manipur over the past few days are not just disturbing. They are deeply revealing. In the early hours of April 7, a projectile struck a civilian home in Bishnupur district, killing two young children while they slept. Their mother was critically injured. This was not a clash at a buffer zone or a firefight between armed groups. This was a direct hit on a home. A line had already been crossed.
What followed made the situation even more telling. Public anger exploded across the Imphal Valley. Torch rallies filled the streets. Shutdowns were announced. Crowds gathered in grief and rage, demanding justice and accountability. But then the script twisted further. Some of these crowds clashed with security forces. Attempts were made to storm security posts. Central forces responded with force. More lives were lost. Internet shutdowns were imposed. Curfews returned. And just like that, Manipur slipped back into the now-familiar cycle of violence, reaction, and administrative containment.
This is precisely the point where the narrative needs to change. This is no longer a situation that can honestly be described as a temporary law-and-order issue or an unfortunate flare-up between communities. This is the erosion of state authority in real time. And if Amit Shah has built his political identity on restoring the authority of the Indian state in the face of armed disorder, then Manipur is now the clearest test of whether that doctrine applies everywhere or only where it is convenient.
Why Manipur Now Looks Less Like A Civil Conflict And More Like A State Failure
It is tempting to explain Manipur through the familiar lens of ethnic conflict. Meitei versus Kuki. Valley versus hills. Historical grievances. Competing claims. All of that is real, and all of it matters. But it no longer explains what is unfolding on the ground.
When a projectile can strike a civilian home deep enough to kill sleeping children, the issue is no longer just tension. When crowds, driven by grief and anger, can quickly transition into attempts to storm security infrastructure, the issue is no longer just protest. When shutdowns, rallies, and retaliatory actions become recurring instruments of pressure, the issue is no longer just politics.
The real shift is this: deterrence has collapsed. The fear of consequences that should restrain both armed actors and violent mobilization is no longer functioning. In such an environment, every incident feeds the next. Every grievance becomes a trigger. Every response becomes another reason for escalation. What remains is not governance, but a vacuum where multiple actors begin testing how far they can push the state.
The Centre Has The Laws, The Forces, And The Intelligence. What It Lacks Is The Will To Use Them Relentlessly
There is a tendency in official circles to treat Manipur as a uniquely complex problem that defies straightforward solutions. Complexity is real, but it is also becoming an excuse.
The Government of India already has the legal and institutional framework required to treat violent ecosystems as internal security threats. Anti-terror laws exist. Conspiracy and organised crime provisions exist. Preventive detention mechanisms exist. National investigative agencies exist. Central armed police forces are already deployed in large numbers. Intelligence networks are active. Financial tracking mechanisms are available.
In other words, capacity is not the issue.
The issue is selective application. The same state that speaks of firmness, zero tolerance, and decisive action in other theatres appears hesitant when it comes to Manipur. Operations remain reactive. Arrests are episodic. Crackdowns are uneven. Political caution overrides administrative consistency.
If the Centre can build and sustain a narrative of breaking insurgent networks elsewhere, it cannot simultaneously allow a perception to grow that Manipur is too sensitive to be handled with the same clarity. That contradiction is now visible to everyone on the ground.
What A Naxal-Style Doctrine Would Actually Mean In Manipur
Calling for a “hard approach” is easy. Defining it is where the argument becomes serious.
A Naxal-style doctrine in Manipur would not mean indiscriminate force. It would mean systematic dismantling of the entire ecosystem that enables violence. That includes armed cadres who carry out attacks. It includes those who supply weapons and explosives. It includes financiers who sustain operations. It includes transporters and handlers who move men and material. It includes overground networks that provide shelter and coordination. It includes those who use street mobilization as a shield for coercion and intimidation.
Most importantly, it would mean ending the practice of informal immunity. No group should be treated more leniently because it speaks in the language of community grievance. No actor should be spared because it can mobilize crowds quickly. Once violence crosses into projectiles, armed intimidation, and organised disruption, the state cannot afford to categorize offenders based on political convenience.
The doctrine must be uniform. The law must be blind to identity. And enforcement must be consistent enough to rebuild fear of consequences.
Dialogue Has Become A Shelter For Delay, Not A Road To Peace
There is a near-reflexive reliance on dialogue in situations like Manipur. Committees are formed. Meetings are held. appeals for calm are issued. Buffer arrangements are discussed. Temporary assurances are offered.
But dialogue only works when it is backed by credible state authority.
In Manipur today, dialogue risks becoming a mechanism for delay rather than resolution. Each new incident is followed by a familiar cycle of statements and negotiations, while the underlying capacity for violence remains intact. Armed actors are not disarmed. Networks are not dismantled. Deterrence is not restored.
This creates a dangerous equilibrium where every side learns that escalation brings attention, and attention brings negotiation. The result is not peace. It is managed instability.
If dialogue is to mean anything, it must come after the state has re-established control. Without that foundation, every conversation risks being shaped by the threat of the next outbreak.
Why Selective Softness Is Destroying The Credibility Of The Indian State
The damage in Manipur is not limited to physical violence. It extends to perception.
The Indian state projects strength and decisiveness in some regions while appearing hesitant and reactive in others. This inconsistency does more than confuse observers. It erodes trust. Citizens begin to question whether the rules are the same everywhere. Whether enforcement depends on political calculations. Whether some theatres are governed while others are merely managed.
For a leadership that has repeatedly emphasized national resolve and internal security, this inconsistency carries a cost. Amit Shah has built his reputation on the idea that the state will not negotiate from weakness with violent actors. That claim now faces its most complex test.
If Manipur continues to be handled through half-measures, the gap between rhetoric and reality will only widen.
Manipur Does Not Need More Symbolism. It Needs Fear Of Consequences
The instinct to respond to tragedy with symbolic gestures is understandable. Candlelight vigils. Public statements. Visits. Announcements.
But symbolism does not deter violence.
What deters violence is the certainty of consequences. The knowledge that any attempt to use force, intimidation, or coercive mobilization will be met with swift, lawful, and unavoidable action. That certainty is what has weakened in Manipur.
Restoring it does not mean targeting communities. It means isolating and dismantling those who exploit communities to sustain violence. It means ensuring that no armed group, no violent network, and no instigator can operate with the expectation of delay, negotiation, or selective tolerance.
Peace built without deterrence is temporary. Peace built on consequences has a chance of lasting.
The crisis in Manipur is no longer just a regional issue. It is a test of whether the Indian state still believes in its own doctrine of authority. If that doctrine is real, it must be applied where the challenge is most difficult. If it is not, then every future claim of firmness will ring hollow.
Manipur cannot continue to function as a negotiation workshop where violence, outrage, and administrative response cycle endlessly. At some point, the state must decide whether it intends to manage instability or end it.
