The homecoming of one of the world’s oldest rebels

Last week, a helicopter appeared above the rolling green hills of Ukhrul in the northeastern Indian state of Manipur.

When the plane landed on a temporary helipad outside the village of Sumdal, the crowd had already started singing. When the door opened, the crowd rushed toward a frail man wearing dark glasses and a black suit. They quickly wrapped him in a traditional shawl.

More than half a century later, Thwingaling Muivah, India’s oldest rebel, has returned to his homeland.

Muivah, now 91, is the secretary-general of the National Socialist Council of Nagalim (Issac Muivah), or NSCN (IM), the most powerful Naga rebel faction that once fought the Indian state in one of Asia’s longest sustained insurgencies — though the organization is often seen today as a shadow of its former self.

His supporters consider him a guardian of a demand that India has never recognized, which is the establishment of a separate state for the Naga people. His critics remember something else: a movement accused of targeted killings and running a parallel government in Nagaland through “taxes” that many call extortion – accusations the NSCN (IM) denies.

Nagaland, a predominantly Christian state sandwiched between Myanmar and Bangladesh, is home to a people spread across the neighboring states of Manipur, Arunachal Pradesh and Assam. The Muivah seeks either full sovereignty or a “Greater Nagaland” that unites the Nagas across the border, especially in Manipur.

Muivah himself was born in what is now Manipur state – a reminder that Naga identity extends far beyond the borders of Nagaland.

This was his second attempt to return to his homeland – the first, in 2010, was blocked by the Manipur government, citing the risk of unrest and security concerns. When he finally returned with his wife last week, almost the entire village gathered to welcome Avakarar – “Big Daddy” as they called him. Among them was his only surviving brother, 84-year-old Asui Muivah.

“A generation comes and goes, but the nation remains,” he wrote in a letter that was read aloud aloud by his deputy VS Atem, who was too weak to speak himself. “The cause we are fighting for is bigger and older than most of us.”

Muivah had left the same hillside village in 1964, heading east to join the Naga struggle for sovereignty – a journey that would take him to the jungles of northern Myanmar, the ideological camps of Maoist China, and the negotiating tables of Delhi.

After emerging from the jungles for a ceasefire in 1997, Muivah lived in Delhi and in a sprawling camp in Hebron in Nagaland, which serves as the headquarters of the NSCN (IM), with banners declaring that “Freedom is the birthright of all nations.”

“His return to his village is more personal than political – driven by homesickness,” says Pradeep Vangupam, editor of the Imphal Review of Arts and Politics. “His calls for a separate Naga flag and constitution are predictable, helping to keep him politically relevant. But the broader idea of ​​a ‘Greater Nagaland’ has largely faded over the years.”

The Naga struggle predates India itself. In 1918, workers returning from World War I formed the Naga Club to assert a distinct identity. When India gained independence in 1947, Naga leaders refused to join the new republic, declaring “We are not Indians,” and held their own unrecognized plebiscite for independence in 1951.

As the armed conflict intensified, the Indian government sent in troops in 1955. What followed were decades of insurgency, factional divisions, and ceasefires. The rebellion claimed thousands of lives, displaced generations, and militarized the green, predominantly Christian hills.

“The Naga struggle is among the world’s least known but longest-lasting armed movements,” says political scientist Sanjib Baruah.

Muivah was born in March 1935 in Sumdal, where his family often went hungry. Educated at a local Christian school, he was early attracted to ideas of revolution and Naga nationalism.

As a teenager, Muivah was already a Naga nationalist, singing “God Bless Nagaland” at school and wondering why his people lived in “humiliated” under the colonial government. After studying at St Anthony’s College in Shillong and reading Marx, Hegel and Rousseau, he joined the Naga National Council (NNC) – the first Naga political organization to demand independence from India – in 1964.

Two years later, 31-year-old Muivah joined more than 130 fighters on a 97-day trek through the jungles of northern Myanmar to China’s Yunnan province. “We carried our own rice and slept on the grass in the logs,” he said in a 1998 interview. “I could bear the hunger, but sometimes there was no water to drink.” They crossed rivers on bamboo rafts that cut through dense undergrowth, and continued their journey in the sub-zero cold.

Beijing trained the rebels in guerrilla warfare, Marxist-Leninist theory, and “people’s war.” Muivah briefly studied at the Diplomatic College in Beijing, visited Vietnam and returned speaking reverently of Mao and Zhou Enlai – though he later combined their ideology with a profound Christian nationalism. He returned to Nagaland after five years.

In 1980, Muivah and his comrades Isak Cheshi Sow and SS Khaplang founded the NSCN, breaking away from the older NNC which had signed a controversial agreement. Peace agreement With Delhi.

Their faction later split again – into the NSCN (IM) and NSCN (K), led by Khaplang of Myanmar – giving rise to smaller branches across the northeast.

At its height, the NSCN (IM) was the mother of all insurgencies in the region, training and arming smaller ethnic groups and running what Indian intelligence agencies called a “shadow state” across the hills, according to Subir Bhowmick, a veteran historian of the region. The group faced charges of extortion, murder, and human rights violations.

Critics within the Naga insurgency also point to a violent legacy. The Zeilingrung United Front (ZUF). accused Louis Gangme, a spokesman for the movement, said Muivah ordered the “merciless killing of several prominent leaders” and carried out arson operations in villages “in the name of taxation or fighting the Indian army”, leaving “ordinary Nagas” to bear the cost.

Over the years, Muivah has transformed from forest commissioner to political negotiator. After decades of exile – in Thailand, the Netherlands and the border areas of Myanmar – he entered into a ceasefire agreement with India.

But his demand for a separate flag and constitution for the Naga remains a stumbling block. In a 2020 interview, Muivah told journalist Karan Thapar: “The Nagas will never be part of the Indian Union, nor will they accept its constitution. There can be no solution without our flag and our constitution.”

The Indian government has offered greater autonomy, but rejects any concession that would imply sovereignty; the 2015 Framework Conventiononce hailed as a breakthrough, is now vulnerable. “We have not given up our free existence and our sovereignty,” Muivah declared last week. “No matter what, we will defend it to the end.”

However, over the past decade, as Muivah’s health deteriorates and the movement splits into dozens of factions, the NSCN(IM’s) once-formidable influence has diminished. The younger generation of Naga people, tired of sieges and extortion, now increasingly seek peace and economic stability.

At the same time, experts like Professor Baruah say that “the proud display of Naga flags in his village bears witness to the vitality and resilience of the Naga movement” – a reminder that although its horizons have narrowed, the sentiment remains.

More importantly, he adds, “even objectively powerful states can choose live-and-let-live deals with armed groups rather than trying to disarm and demobilize them.”

Muivah says his group has held more than 600 rounds of talks with New Delhi on the Naga homeland since the late 1990s. However, critics remain harsh. The Manipur-based ZUF dismissed his return as “empty-handed”, saying there was “no reason to glorify someone who has let the Naga down on all fronts”. Supporters believe he is tired of war, unsure of peace, and still awaiting the political settlement that has defined the struggle of his life.

Early in 2006, he told Mr. Bhowmik, a journalist, “I am very tired. I feel doubly tired because there seems to be no outcome from the talks.” The waiting continues.

Additional reporting by Abhishek Dey