The fragile calm of India’s Northeast was shaken after the Manipur conflict erupted in May 2023, claiming more than 260 lives and forcing over 50,000 people from their homes. In the wake of the violence, both the Centre and the Manipur government renewed calls for fencing the porous 1,643-km-long border that India shares with Myanmar through Manipur, Mizoram, Nagaland and Arunachal Pradesh. What was once regarded as a soft line of kinship and livelihood exchanges is now increasingly being reimagined as a hardened frontier.
Central to this decision is the fate of the Free Movement Regime (FMR), a unique arrangement that had existed since 1950. Conceived out of the recognition that borderland tribes were historically one people divided by political boundaries, the FMR allowed communities to cross up to 16 km into each other’s territory without travel documents. For decades, it sustained trade, kinship ties and cultural continuity.
In February 2024, however, the Ministry of Home Affairs announced its decision to scrap the arrangement and fence the border, citing security concerns and the need to preserve the demographic balance of India’s Northeastern states. Union Home Minister Amit Shah emphasised that the move was part of Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s resolve to secure India’s borders. At the same time, officials sources acknowledged that while restrictions had already tightened—shrinking movement in some areas to 10 km—the FMR had not yet been completely withdrawn. A final notification is awaited, leaving the arrangement in a state of suspension.
The decision has sparked concern among tribal communities on both sides of the border. For the Nagas, Mizos and Kukis, the border has never been a barrier but a bridge, connecting shared ancestry, cultural practices and ways of life. Fencing, in their view, threatens to rupture these connections. Naga groups in Manipur have been especially vocal in their opposition. The United Naga Council (UNC) met Governor A. K. Bhalla on August 16 to raise concerns, following which they were invited by the Union Home Ministry to Delhi for further discussions. Earlier, on July 22, Naga organisations had submitted a memorandum to the Centre demanding an immediate halt to fencing and restoration of the FMR. These groups argue that fencing the border without consulting local communities risks alienating populations who already live with fragile ties to the state.
The government, however, sees the issue through the lens of security. Officials argue that insurgents exploit the open border to escape into Myanmar after carrying out attacks, while drug cartels and smuggling networks take advantage of the absence of strict controls. Manipur Chief Minister N. Biren Singh has linked ongoing unrest to alleged illegal immigration and accused Kuki insurgents of sheltering Chin refugees while collaborating with armed groups from across the border. Yet evidence also points to long-standing use of Myanmar’s jungles by valley-based insurgent groups from Manipur, who have set up bases there and mounted attacks on Indian forces. The reality is layered: the border is porous and exploited, but not by one community alone.
The irony of the present debate is that both India and Myanmar had once deliberately chosen openness over closure. In 1950, New Delhi amended its Passport Rules to allow “hill tribes” living within 40 km of the border to cross freely, recognising that arbitrary boundaries should not sever centuries-old ways of life. Burma had already introduced a similar policy in 1948, exempting indigenous communities within 25 miles of the frontier from passport requirements. Both governments permitted tribespeople to carry small quantities of goods, restricted to what one person could carry. India went further by allowing Myanmar’s tribespeople to remain up to 72 hours in Indian territory, compared to 24 hours for Indians in Myanmar. This mutual understanding came to be known as the Free Movement Regime, a practical arrangement that balanced state sovereignty with respect for borderland communities.
Today, that arrangement faces its greatest test. For New Delhi, the demands of internal security, insurgency control and demographic stability appear pressing. For tribal communities, however, fencing represents a rupture of identity and kinship. Balancing these two imperatives remains a difficult task. The India–Myanmar border has never been a site of violent disputes between the two nations. Its settlements may have been arbitrary, but its management was once marked by pragmatism and cultural sensitivity. As fencing progresses, the challenge will be to ensure that wires and walls do not erase the intangible bonds of kinship, history and belonging that have long defined life in these borderlands.