The end of the India-Myanmar Free Movement Regime: looking at cross-border trade, kinship, and security

Guest post by Luke Rimmo Lego. Luke is a junior studying biomedical engineering at Stevens Institute of Technology, a member of the International Political Science Association, and co-founder of NECHR: a nonprofit offering no-cost academic programs to high school students.

Instituted in 1968, the Free Movement Regime (FMR) recognized that British-drawn borders in India’s northeast had split ethnic groups, who share language, ancestry and family ties, and allowed residents to cross up to 16 km without a visa. Over decades, the FMR was repeatedly revised: the travel radius cut from 40 km (pre-2004) to 16 km, and new permit rules added in 2018. It underpinned informal cross-border trade and cultural exchange, easing trade in goods like rice, bamboo and motorbikes, and even letting hundreds of children attend schools across the border. Foreign‐policy analysts noted that the FMR also served India’s Act East strategy: Myanmar is India’s gateway to ASEAN, and kinship ties in Chin and Sagaing states help balance China’s influence.

The February 2024 Decision and Security Rationale

In February 2024, Home Minister Amit Shah announced that India would scrap the FMR on grounds of internal security. The move came amid intense ethnic conflict in Manipur and a surge of refugees after Myanmar’s 2021 coup. Shah and other ministers blamed porous borders for insurgent camps, arms and drug smuggling, and sudden influx of Chin refugees into Manipur and Mizoram. A Ministry of Home Affairs summary pointed to “drug trafficking” from the Golden Triangle and insurgent camps as imperatives to strengthen the frontier. Frontier leaders however, called the move unilateral: no bilateral treaty was reported, and Nagaland and Mizoram dissented at once.

In practice, no “clampdown” was instant: in March 2024 the government quietly moved to regulate rather than immediately scrap the FMR. By December 2024 new Home Ministry rules required QR‐coded, biometric border passes issued by Assam Rifles; movement was limited to within 10 km of the boundary. The passes are valid for one week and allow a 7-day visit before renewal. Simultaneously, India began constructing a physical fence along much of the 1,643 km frontier, with pilot ‘smart fencing’ already in place by early 2025.

Kinship of the Border Communities

On the ground, ethnic communities who grew up with the FMR are reeling. Entire markets depended on daily barter: Mizoram villagers imported betel nut, cheap liquor and motorbikes from Myanmar’s Chin State. Gasoline and farm tools suddenly face steep tariffs or blockages. Meanwhile kinship ties have been abruptly cut. Daily life has changed. Farmers, seasonal workers, and patients- who once crossed daily for jobs, livestock care, and medical help- now face bans that sever livelihoods and basic services.

The immediate fallout has also sharpened ethnic tensions. Government officials in Imphal claim that thousands of Myanmar-origin migrants, particularly Chin, upset Manipur’s ethnic balance. Groups on both sides protest that they are being punished, emphasizing that the boundary is an arbitrary British relic. In the face of unrest, state governments have split roles: Mizoram’s elected leaders refused New Delhi’s order to fingerprint Myanmar refugees and even provided them services, while Manipur officials deported hundreds in late 2024.

Resistance and Adaptation at the Frontier

The central government’s moves have triggered widespread protest and ad hoc adaptations. In Mizoram, the Zo Reunification Organisation (ZoRO) - which advocates unity among Chin-Kuki-Mizo-Zomi tribes - led mass rallies. On January 29, 2025, thousands gathered in Aizawl and border towns, burning copies of government orders and demanding repeal of the new border pass rules. Rohmingthanga Kawlni of ZoRO angrily denounced the measures and vowed collaboration with the powerful students’ union Mizo Zirlai Pawl (MZP) to challenge the border policy in Delhi. Mizoram’s youth leaders warned dramatically that if the Centre “fences the border and ditches the FMR, the youths will have no other alternative but to take up arms”. This echoed slogans heard at rallies: “Unau kan ni, inthen thei kan ni lo” - “United by blood and cannot be parted” - chanted by Mizo and Chin villagers on both sides of the Tiau river.

In Nagaland, student leaders of the Naga Students’ Federation (NSF) appealed to the United Nations. NSF President Medovi Rhi wrote to the UN Secretary-General calling India’s move a “ploy” that violates the Nagas’ “birthright” to a contiguous homeland. The United Zou Organisation (UZO) carried placards reading “No fence can break our cultural ties” and observed silence for victims of Manipur’s ethnic violence. Similarly, Wesean Student Federation (WSF), an umbrella for student groups in the region, condemned the policy change as trampling ancestral rights. The Kachin branch (KWSA) issued statements asserting that “Kachins should not need the permission of either government to visit their own kin for their bonds predate the existence of both nations”.

Security vs. Social Costs: The Big Questions

Officials justify the rollback by citing armed groups, defectors, and drug smuggling across a porous frontier. They also note that unlike India, Myanmar lacks meaningful refugee laws - so these crossings occur without legal oversight. Critics ask whether a fence-and-pass solution is disproportionate to the threat, instead of targeted operations against smugglers. Mizoram’s Home Minister Sapdanga has argued that the border itself is a colonial legacy and that fencing may simply displace smugglers into more dangerous, unmonitored crossings.

Another concern is the legitimacy of governance in these frontier areas. The fact that Mizoram’s governor publicly clarified “the FMR won’t be abolished” after meeting village councils underscores how disconnected central announcements have been from ground realities. If borderland populations - formally recognized as citizens, yet cut off from kin - are so severely affected, why were their representatives not consulted? Can New Delhi’s frontier policy restore trust, or will it reinforce feelings of neglect and division among people who already straddle two worlds? The costs are tangible: stalled trade networks, split families, and heightening ethnic anxieties. The security gains are still largely theoretical. For policy analysts, the unfolding drama raises broader questions about participatory governance in remote border zones. Whether New Delhi will heed this lesson remains to be seen.

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