Since May 20, when an incident involving the Mahar Regiment of the Indian Army unfolded near Gwaltabi, the silence of the administration under President’s Rule in Manipur has grown increasingly difficult to justify. The incident, in which the Army personnel allegedly stopped a Media Service Transport (MST) bus heading to Ukhrul for the Shirui Festival solely because of a “Manipur” signage on its windshield, has come to symbolise more than just a moment of military overreach — it reflects a growing disregard for the dignity of the Manipuri people and the role of a free press.
The journalist fraternity, under the aegis of the All Manipur Working Journalists’ Union (AMWJU) and Editors Guild Manipur (EGM), responded in a democratic and restrained manner. A one-day cease work protest was held on May 21 by suspending all news publication — not as a means to inconvenience the public, but to draw attention to a matter of principle: the unacceptable humiliation of journalists and the name of the state they represent.
Following the initial protest, journalists took the difficult decision to boycott news related to the government. Yet even this action was reconsidered. Recognising the public’s right to access information, the media fraternity lifted the boycott on government news, deeming it unfair to penalise the people of Manipur for the actions of those in power. Instead, a daily symbolic protest was adopted, with newspapers carrying slogans and messages demanding justice for the Gwaltabi incident.
Later, the journalists staged a sit-in protest, urging the government to deliver on its promise — a commitment made under President’s Rule — to initiate an inquiry within fifteen days. That promise has not been honoured. Today, nearly two months later, there has been no official statement, no update, and no visible step toward accountability. The silence is not only deafening but dangerously telling.
In a functioning democracy, the press is often called the fourth pillar — a watchdog that speaks truth to power and ensures that the rights and voices of the people are not stifled. When journalists themselves become targets of suppression or humiliation, and when their legitimate protests are met with institutional apathy, it signals a breakdown in that democratic structure.
The Gwaltabi incident was not a routine security check. It was an act perceived by many as a deliberate attempt to demean the identity of the state and its representatives. The removal of the “Manipur” signage from the MST bus by a regiment representing the sovereign authority of the Indian Union sent an uncomfortable message. It touched on deep-rooted issues of marginalisation, respect, and representation. To date, there has been no clarity offered to the public about why the incident occurred, who authorised such action, and what steps — if any — have been taken against those responsible.
It is this absence of transparency and accountability that continues to agitate journalists across the state. The question arises: is the government under President’s Rule waiting for a larger uproar before it acts? Does the silence indicate an intent to let the matter fade from public memory, rather than confront uncomfortable truths?
To deny justice in this case is to ignore the legitimate rights of not just journalists, but the people of Manipur. The journalists on that bus were not there for personal gain; they were performing their duty, covering a state-sponsored festival, meant to celebrate unity and culture. To treat them with disrespect is to insult the spirit of that very celebration.
It is time for the authorities — military and civil — to recognise the long-term damage that such incidents and their subsequent cover-up can cause. Trust, once broken, is hard to rebuild. The government must immediately make public the findings of any inquiry conducted, or initiate one if none exists. Those found guilty of overstepping authority must be held accountable.
The role of the journalist is not to agitate but to inform. However, when information is weaponised or suppressed, and when journalists are treated as enemies rather than messengers, protest becomes not just a right but a responsibility. If the state continues to remain indifferent, it risks provoking the very uproar it seeks to avoid.
Justice delayed is justice denied. And in Manipur, that denial is breeding a quiet but deepening anger — one that demands not vengeance, but truth.