In Manipur, the return of insurgent opportunism
The recent killing of Colonel Viplav Tripathi, an effective Assam Rifles (AR) commanding officer, among seven others in Behiang, Manipur, reminds us how tenuous State authority remains in parts of the Northeast, despite the deepening of peace and the consequent de-induction of several AR battalions to secure the China border.
Executed by the armed wing of the Revolutionary People’s Front, called the People’s Liberation Army-Manipur (PLA-M), jointly with the Manipur Naga People’s Front (MNPF), the attack was not, in itself, surprising given the endurance of political violence in Manipur. That a Meitei-dominated group would ally with a Manipuri Nagasdominated group and target a convoy in the state’s Zomi-dominated region is also unsurprising given the transactional nature of inter-insurgent alliances, and the existence of PLA-M camps across the border, including near Behiang.
New Delhi has long been aware of the PLA-M’s leadership and networks within and outside India, cadre strength, transborder camps in Myanmar, and its cash and weapons supply lines. That the group is on the Myanmar army’s payroll since the February coup to target anti-junta activists in Sagaing and Chin state, is equally well known. That an alliance between Naypyidaw and PLA-M will strengthen the latter is a well understood corollary.
The two questions, then, are: Why attack now, and what for?
These questions are important because Tripathi, who was pursuing local drug networks, was specifically targeted. Apart from demonstrating operational confidence and organisational ambitions, PLA-M calculated that the cost of killing an officer is lower than not doing so. The swiftness with which it claimed responsibility underscores this calculus. To be sure, sporadic attacks against the armed forces, such as the 2015 Chandel ambush, are not new to the Northeast. But the targeting of individual officers requires advanced logistical capabilities and operational discipline.
China playing host to leaders of multiple insurgent groups such as the United Liberation Front of Asom-Independent (ULFA-I) and the National Socialist Council of Nagaland (IsakMuivah), NSCN-IM, though true, fails to explain the attack’s timing and motive. Neither does it help to view the attack as a precursor to the re-ignition of armed mass separatism. In 2021, neither the PLA-M, nor the MNPF — or, for that matter, ULFA-I and NSCN-IM — have sufficient appeal to mobilise mass sentiment in a separatist struggle. These arguments, then, belie the more mundane — perhaps worse — reality of insurgent-counterinsurgent coexistence in a fast evolving geopolitical situation.
The timing of this attack is best explained by insurgent opportunism. Irengbam Chaoren, leader of the PLA-M, finds himself at the centre of three simultaneous geopolitical shifts in the region.
One, the Indian Army has repositioned various AR battalions at the China border in the last few months. This has created gaps along the Myanmar border open to exploitation by transborder militants, who moonlight as drug cartels. Two, the PLA-M has become an ally of the Myanmar army since the February coup. Apart from sundry cash and a promise of unimpeded cross-border mobility, the alliance with the junta has deepened and broadened the group’s access to the Golden Triangle — either directly through the junta, or through pro-junta armed groups in Kachin, Shan, Sagaing, and Wa states. Three, India’s ongoing crackdown against drugs, as witnessed in multiple recent drug busts in Assam, is paralleled by an explosion of supplies from the Triangle.
For Chaoren and his associates, such changes offer a small, but compelling, window of opportunity. Security gaps along the border help diversify supply routes. Instead of cushioning the risk by deploying multiple drug-runners or using the high-risk high-reward Moreh border crossing (a strategic, but saturating, transit point for Southeast Asia’s illicit trade), the PLA-M can create several multi-purpose illegal transit points along the border — Behiang being an attractive venue with the government planning to develop a Behiang trade centre.
Such diversification of routes, and expansion of insurgent business, will not only empower the PLA-M in relation to the State of India, but also relative to other regional militant groups. The ULFA-I and NSCN-IM, traditionally powerful, have become weaker over time. Both these groups have their own illicit transnational linkages, but don’t enjoy market dominance. Flush with funds, weapons, ambition, a junior partner in MNPF, and a small window of opportunity, the PLA-M made its move by killing Tripathi. The true audience of this attack, as often is the case, are higher-ups within the state and central government.
But won’t killing an officer surely invite the Army’s wrath and be bad for business? Yes and no.
There’s no doubt that the Indian Army will target the PLA-M at a location and time of choice. But the cross-border existence of the group means that Chaoren is banking on the PLA-M’s ability to absorb the blow and move on. Insurgent-counterinsurgent coexistence is a stark global reality in long-running drug-fuelled conflicts. In the Northeast, a complex regime of peace talks, suspension of operations, and deepening of electoral processes have ensured a reduction in insurgent violence. But this comes with widespread corruption, the ideological bankruptcy of separatist movements, and uneven distribution of state authority across the region.
It is too early to say whether the PLA-M will succeed in its aim. But it is becoming increasingly clear that this attack is an insurgent’s attempt to renegotiate the terms of a truce with the State rather than a Chinese-sponsored bid to re-ignite separatism in the Northeast (even if China’s strategic footprint is undeniable). That such attacks have not entirely ceased shows how blurry the concept of war and peace, or victory and loss, truly is in long-running, low-intensity, multifaceted conflicts such as those in India’s Northeast.