Dr Shonreiphy Longvah & Dr Somingam Mawon
Chümoukedima
The Indo-Naga peace process is often described in terms of ceasefire, dialogue, and negotiation. Yet one of its deepest weaknesses is that these terms can create the impression that peace has already been achieved when, for many communities, insecurity remains part of everyday life. A ceasefire may reduce overt armed confrontation, but it does not automatically end fear, exclusion, or the unresolved political questions that gave rise to conflict in the first place.
The study on “Transitioning Ceasefire into Positive Peace: Exploring Challenges and Opportunities in the ‘Indo-Naga’ Context” shows why this distinction matters. It argues that peace should be understood not merely as the absence of violence, but as the presence of justice, dignity, recognition, and meaningful participation. This is especially important in a conflict shaped by long histories of political contestation, militarization, and distrust. In such a setting, the language of peace can become too thin if it does not address the lived realities of the people most affected by the conflict.
Recent developments in the hills of Manipur have made this concern more visible. Many Nagas now speak of a widening gap between official claims of security and the realities on the ground. Whether one describes this as state failure, selective responsiveness, or political neglect, the underlying issue is the same: people do not feel adequately protected, and that perception weakens trust in the peace process. When civilians believe their safety is conditional or unevenly valued, ceasefire politics loses moral force.
This is why the move from negative peace to positive peace is so important. Negative peace refers to the absence of direct violence, while positive peace requires the gradual removal of the structures that produce insecurity and inequality. In the Indo-Naga case, that means addressing not only armed confrontation but also political exclusion, economic uncertainty, institutional opacity, and the exhaustion caused by decades of unresolved talks. A peace process that cannot explain itself to the people risks becoming detached from the society in whose name it operates.
There is also a human cost to prolonged uncertainty that should not be underestimated. Communities that live with repeated disruption often experience conflict less as a single event than as a condition. They learn to adjust to insecurity, but adaptation should not be mistaken for resolution. Families continue to make difficult choices about mobility, livelihood, education, and public life in a context where political outcomes remain unclear. That ordinary strain is part of the conflict as much as formal negotiations are.
For this reason, the Indo-Naga process needs a broader understanding of political responsibility. The state cannot be seen only as an actor managing territory and strategy; it must also be judged by how fairly it protects civilians and responds to communal suffering. Likewise, Naga political institutions and civil society bodies must continue to press for a process that is inclusive, transparent, and credible. Peace does not become durable because it is declared. It becomes durable when it is experienced as fair.
The study’s findings also suggest that many Nagas want a more pragmatic and phased path forward. That does not necessarily mean abandoning core political aspirations. It means recognizing that long conflicts often require forms of coexistence that can hold together dignity, flexibility, and realism. A humane peace process does not demand immediate agreement on everything. It demands a willingness to reduce harm, widen participation, and create conditions in which future settlement becomes possible.
The challenge, then, is to stop treating ceasefire as the finish line. It should be understood as an opening that must be followed by accountability, reconciliation, and structural change. If the Indo-Naga process is to move forward, it must become less about managing conflict and more about building a life in which ordinary people can live without fear, humiliation, or political invisibility.
This op-ed draws on research supported by the Peace Research Grant Program of the International Peace Research Association Foundation.
The writers are Associate Professors in the Department of Political Science St Joseph University, Chümoukedima.
