Pallab BhattacharyyaOn 10 August, a violent clash erupted at Mingmang Basti along the Arunachal Pradesh border in Assam’s Dhemaji district, in which armed individuals who allegedly crossed from the Arunachal side and opened fire over a disputed land claim, injuring several residents. Although the confrontation was contained, the incident revived one of the most enduring questions of India’s federal experience: why do boundary disputes continue to haunt states that were once part of composite Assam?
The roots of the Assam–Arunachal dispute lie in colonial administrative arrangements. The British introduced the Inner Line Regulation of 1873 to separate the plains of Assam from the tribal frontier areas. The North-East Frontier Agency (NEFA), which later became Arunachal Pradesh, was administered separately. However, the critical turning point came in 1951 when the Bordoloi Committee transferred approximately 3,648 square kilometres of the Balipara and Sadiya foothills from NEFA to Assam.
Arunachal Pradesh has consistently argued that this transfer occurred without consulting the tribal communities possessing customary rights over the land, and therefore lacks legitimacy. The dispute has been kept alive through competing interpretations of colonial records, customary ownership, and post-independence administrative decisions.
Several attempts were made to settle the boundary. A tripartite committee between 1979 and 1984 demarcated about 489 kilometres of the nearly 800-kilometre border, but the remaining sectors remained unresolved. Assam approached the Supreme Court in 1989 under Article 131, and a Local Boundary Commission was later appointed. Yet technical recommendations repeatedly failed to translate into political implementation.
The most significant recent progress came through the 2022 Namsai Declaration and the 2023 Memorandum of Understanding under which 71 of the 123 disputed villages were settled, leaving 52 villages pending. Nevertheless, the recurrence of violence in the Dhemaji–Lower Siang belt demonstrates that agreements at the state level have not fully resolved tensions on the ground.
The Arunachal dispute is only one part of a larger pattern. Assam shares disputed boundaries with Arunachal Pradesh, Meghalaya, Nagaland, and Mizoram. The Assam–Meghalaya border extends about 884.9 kilometres; the Assam–Arunachal border about 804 kilometres; the Assam–Nagaland border roughly 434–512 kilometres; and the Assam–Mizoram border about 164.6 kilometres.
The resolution record varies sharply. Meghalaya has resolved six of 12 disputed sectors through the 2022 agreement, covering about 70 per cent of the disputed frontier. Arunachal has resolved around 58 per cent of the disputed villages. By contrast, the Nagaland and Mizoram disputes remain substantially unresolved despite decades of negotiations. The statistical pattern is revealing: longer borders with structured joint committees have made greater progress, while shorter borders marked by stronger ethnic mobilisation and competing historical narratives have remained more volatile.
The reasons for these disputes are remarkably consistent across the Northeast. Colonial demarcations were drawn for administrative convenience rather than ethnographic or customary realities. The creation of new states from “Greater Assam” between 1963 and 1987 reassigned territory through central notifications that many successor states never fully accepted. Demographic anxieties have further intensified disputes, with settlement patterns often interpreted through the lens of ethnic security and migration. Forested and poorly administered borderlands enabled gradual encroachment through roads, schools, markets, and police outposts, which later hardened into territorial claims. Finally, repeated failure to implement the recommendations of boundary commissions created a deficit of trust that technical solutions alone could not overcome.
The constitutional dimension is crucial. Under Article 3 of the Constitution, Parliament possesses the exclusive authority to create new states and alter state boundaries. State legislatures may express their views, but they do not possess a veto. This means that the very process through which Arunachal Pradesh, Nagaland, Meghalaya, and Mizoram emerged from Assam was fundamentally a Union responsibility. Consequently, the Centre cannot remain merely a mediator between states; it bears primary institutional responsibility for ensuring that boundaries are conclusively demarcated and legally finalised. Durable settlements require statutory ratification, transparent surveys, compensation for affected communities, and institutional mechanisms that survive changes of government.
Parallel to these inter-state disputes is the international challenge posed by China. Beijing continues to claim Arunachal Pradesh as “Zangnan” or South Tibet and has repeatedly issued Chinese names for locations within the state. China has simultaneously strengthened its physical presence o the border by constructing dual-use “xiaokang” border villages, roads, military infrastructure, and improved logistics networks opposite Arunachal Pradesh. Satellite imagery and strategic assessments indicate a sustained effort to consolidate civilian and military capabilities near the Line of Actual Control.
India’s response has been substantial. The Vibrant Villages Programme has targeted hundreds of border villages with investments in roads, telecommunications, livelihoods, and public services. Strategic infrastructure such as the Sela Tunnel and the proposed frontier highway along the McMahon Line reflects a shift from a defensive posture to one of border habitation and connectivity.
Global experience offers valuable lessons. Judicial settlement through independent tribunals has helped resolve several international boundary disputes by allowing governments to accept externally legitimised outcomes. Arbitration has often proved more effective than prolonged bilateral diplomacy when embedded within structured implementation frameworks. The Ecuador–Peru and Cameroon–Nigeria settlements demonstrate the importance of joint technical commissions, fixed timelines, third-party facilitation, and binding implementation. For India’s inter-state disputes, the relevant lesson is not international adjudication but institutionally guaranteed domestic resolution through empowered commissions whose recommendations acquire statutory finality within a defined timeframe.
The way forward requires a fundamental shift from territorial competition to cooperative federalism. A permanent National Inter-State Boundary Commission should be established under parliamentary legislation with authority to complete digital cadastral surveys, integrate customary tribal land records, and recommend legally binding settlements. Border communities must become stakeholders in peace through shared development zones, joint policing arrangements, common markets, and ecological conservation projects. Transparent geospatial mapping, publicly accessible boundary records, and local dispute-resolution councils can reduce the ambiguity that fuels recurrent confrontation.
For India and China, the future lies in managing competition without allowing it to escalate into conflict. For the northeastern states, the future lies in recognising that boundaries should protect identities without imprisoning development.
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The Mingmang Basti clash is therefore a warning that unfinished federal geography carries real human costs. The Union Government, which created the states, must now complete the unfinished task of settling their boundaries. In an interconnected twenty-first century, the prosperity of nations and regions rests less on expanding territory than on expanding trust. Peaceful coexistence is not a moral aspiration alone; it is the most strategic investment that India, its states, and its neighbours can make for the future.
(The writer is a retired Director General of Assam Police and former Chairman, Assam Public Service Commission)