In a dramatic illustration of India’s evolving approach to armed insurgency, two recent events involving the Naga rebel movement have shone a spotlight on the nation’s use of both force and dialogue—principles rooted in the ancient statecraft of Kautilya, also known as Chanakya. The Indian government’s deft application of these strategies was on full display this October, as it alternated between a precise military strike against one rebel faction and a gesture of reconciliation toward another, signaling a nuanced and multifaceted response to one of the country’s oldest insurgencies.
On October 16, 2025, the National Socialist Council of Nagaland’s Khaplang-Yin Aung faction (NSCN-K YA) ambushed a patrol of the paramilitary Assam Rifles in the Changlang district of Arunachal Pradesh, escalating a conflict that has simmered for decades along India’s northeastern frontier. Within just two days, Indian defense forces retaliated with a drone strike on the group’s base in Kammoi village, Myanmar, targeting the residence of Major General Piyong Konyak. According to The Federal, the attack resulted in the deaths of several NSCN-K (YA) cadres, including Konyak’s son and granddaughter, while Konyak and his wife sustained critical injuries. This operation marked a shift toward more technologically advanced, intelligence-driven military tactics, with drone strikes offering both precision and deniability—especially as Myanmar’s military, mired in its own internal conflicts, has little incentive to intervene.
But while the state’s iron fist came down hard on the NSCN-K (YA), a very different scene was unfolding just across the border in Manipur. On October 22, Thuingaleng Muivah, the 91-year-old leader of the NSCN (Isak-Muivah) faction, was welcomed back to his native Somdal village in Ukhrul district after more than six decades in exile. As reported by The Hindu, Muivah’s return was facilitated by his declining health and the shifting political landscape in Manipur following the ethnic conflict of May 2023, which realigned relationships among the state’s three major communities: the Kuki-Zo, Meitei, and Naga. The atmosphere in Somdal was electric, with nearly the entire village of 4,500 people turning out to greet the man many consider the “eldest father” or godfather of the Naga people.
Muivah’s journey is steeped in the history of the Naga struggle. Born on March 3, 1934, in Somdal, he joined the Naga National Council (NNC) in 1964 after earning a postgraduate degree in political science from Gauhati University. Disillusioned by the 1975 Shillong Accord, which he saw as a betrayal of Naga aspirations, Muivah walked out of the NNC and helped form the NSCN in 1980. Eight years later, disagreements with his Myanmar-based comrade S.S. Khaplang led to the creation of the NSCN (I-M), the faction Muivah has led since April 30, 1988. His vision: a unified Naga homeland spanning more than 57,400 square kilometers across India and Myanmar, including the 13,329 square kilometer Naga Self-Administered Zone in Myanmar’s Sagaing Division.
For decades, Muivah was persona non grata in Manipur, with the state government even blocking a proposed visit in 2010—an episode that ended in violence and the deaths of two people. But this time, the mood was one of reconciliation and hope. As Muivah addressed the crowd in Somdal, he reflected on the enduring nature of the Naga cause: “Generation comes and goes, but the nation stays. The issue we are fighting for is greater and older than most of us who are gathered here at this Tangkhul Naga Long ground today.”
Muivah’s homecoming has rekindled optimism for a resolution to the Naga peace process, which began with a ceasefire agreement between the NSCN (I-M) and the Indian government on August 1, 1997. In 2015, Muivah’s group signed a Framework Agreement with the Narendra Modi government, but talks have since stalled over disagreements regarding the interpretation of the accord and the concept of “shared sovereignty.” Despite the impasse, Muivah’s willingness to negotiate—and his lack of appetite for a return to armed conflict—has led the Indian state to treat him not as an enemy, but as a partner in dialogue.
This dual approach—force against those who continue to fight, dialogue with those who seek peace—embodies the Kautilyan principles of ‘sham’ (reconciliation), ‘dam’ (monetary inducement), ‘danda’ (force), and ‘bhed’ (division). As The Federal explains, these strategies have been used by successive Indian governments to manage armed secessionist movements: “The message is clear—if you choose to fight the State, you face the condign apparatus, but if you wish to strike a deal within the constitutional parameters, the State is always willing. Both iron fist and velvet glove are on the table—it is what the rebels choose.”
In practice, this means that while the Indian state does not hesitate to use force against factions like the NSCN-K (YA), it simultaneously co-opts rebel leaders who are willing to negotiate, offering them a place in the political system through elections or leadership of autonomous councils. This is the ‘dam’ strategy—using monetary inducements and political integration to bring former combatants into the fold. The repeated splits within the Naga insurgent movement, now numbering at least five NSCN factions, reflect the use of ‘bhed’ to weaken insurgent groups from within.
India’s approach contrasts sharply with the hardline military solutions favored by some of its neighbors. As The Federal notes, Pakistan’s attempt to quell dissent in its eastern wing in 1971 through brute force led not to peace, but to the birth of Bangladesh. The lesson, according to Indian officials and analysts, is that “internal dissent, which creates insurgencies, cannot be silenced by military overkill. They require political solutions that can be achieved only through dialogue and reconciliation.”
The effectiveness of India’s evolving counter-insurgency tactics is evident in the growing panic among insurgent ranks following successful drone strikes, which demonstrate that they are being watched from above and have nowhere to hide. At the same time, the rehabilitation of former rebel leaders—sometimes even as political candidates or public figures—shows the power of co-option over confrontation.
As the Naga peace process enters a new phase, the contrasting fates of the NSCN factions serve as a potent reminder of the choices facing insurgent groups across the region. The velvet glove and the iron fist remain ever-present, but it is the rebels themselves who must decide which path to follow. For now, the return of Thuingaleng Muivah to his ancestral home stands as a symbol of hope—that dialogue, patience, and a willingness to compromise might finally bring an end to one of India’s longest-running conflicts.
