South and Southeast Asia, with its strategic ports, highways, vital sea lanes and natural resources, has become the primary chessboard. The crises we see—from Colombo to Dhaka, From Imphal to Kathmandu—are tactical moves in this larger game.
By Dhiren A. Sadokpam
A few days after publishing a news article in a national fortnightly magazine, I found myself in a long, probing conversation with editors and journalists from India’s leading news organisations and international media outlets. It was mid-May 2023, and one editor had called to discuss a story I had proposed—one that examined the geopolitical roots and implications of the violence erupting in Manipur. As we spoke, I couldn’t help but connect the dots between the crisis in India’s Northeast and the broader strategic tremors shaking South and Southeast Asia.
I pointed out the flurry of diplomatic and military manoeuvres across the region. India, I argued, was walking a tightrope—trying to appease Western allies and Southeast Asian partners while keeping China’s ambitions in check. I speculated that the shifting landscape in Myanmar and its spill over into Manipur might be part of a larger game unfolding in the Indo-Pacific. We left the conversation there, but the questions lingered. Many of my close associates were not even convinced of the geopolitical tangle embedded in the unfolding Manipur violence. Surprisingly, some of them have now become vocal critics of the emergent geopolitics in the region.
The Manipur crisis, in particular, defies easy explanation. It’s not just about ethnic tensions or political missteps. It’s entangled with narco-trade routes and the Golden Triangle—a region historically synonymous with opium and heroin production. Though its dominance has waned, recent reports suggest a westward shift into the Indo-Myanmar corridor including Mizoram, that is if anyone cares to follow the news. This is not just a local problem; it’s a symptom of a deeper, more dangerous geopolitical contest. Or, in the eyes of some political observers, the drug trade was to be replaced with the politics of rare earth extractions, of course, the great world and regional powers donning the invisible robes.
Across South and Southeast Asia, the signs are unmistakable. Sri Lanka’s economic collapse, Bangladesh’s debt distress, Nepal’s current political gridlock, and Myanmar’s civil war form a cascading wave of instability. To view these as isolated national failures is to miss the forest for the trees. I believe these crises are manifestations of a renewed Great Game—one orchestrated, in part, by what political observers have termed as “Deep State” of the local and global pedigree.
This term does not imply a shadowy cabal, but rather a confluence of actors: neo-conservative strategists in Washington and its replicas in South and Southeast Asia, global financial institutions, media conglomerates, and hawkish think tanks. Scholars have argued that these networks often operate with strategic coherence, prioritizing geopolitical objectives over human welfare. Their agenda? Contain China’s rise and dismantle any regional architecture that seemingly threatens Western dominance.
South and Southeast Asia, with its strategic ports, highways and vital sea lanes, has become the primary chessboard. The crises we see—from Colombo to Imphal—are tactical moves in this larger game. But let us be clear: blaming the West alone oversimplifies the picture. China and India seem to behave as active players, and internal governance failures within India and its neighbours remain potent drivers of instability.
Take Sri Lanka. The Hambantota Port project, funded by Chinese loans, became a debt trap. While domestic mismanagement was the root cause, Western media and financial institutions weaponized the crisis to discredit Beijing and open the door for IMF-led restructuring—complete with its own set of conditions.
This pattern repeats elsewhere. In Bangladesh, economic woes are framed as democratic backsliding, paving the way for sanctions and pressure. In Nepal, political instability is exacerbated by the tug-of-war between India, China, and countries seeking to escape public scrutiny, with Western NGOs shaping media narratives to suit strategic interests. The midway victims even include the so called traditional left-liberal think-tanks in the region.
Myanmar is the most violent example. The 2021 coup shattered a fragile democratic transition. Western powers responded with sanctions and support for the National Unity Government and ethnic resistance groups. While morally justified, this support has fuelled a civil war that now threatens to become a permanent wound on China’s southern flank. Myanmar is a key node in China’s Belt and Road Initiative. Destabilizing it disrupts Chinese pipelines and corridors, tying down Beijing in a diplomatic and military quagmire. Tragically, the suffering of Myanmar’s people becomes collateral damage.
Manipur is where this strategy hits home. The ethnic violence between Meitei and Kuki-Zo communities—rooted in politically generated disputes over land, resources, and representation—has been militarized and weaponized by the spill-over effect from Myanmar. The Free Movement Regime across the India-Myanmar border has allowed refugees, armed groups, and weapons to flow into Manipur, transforming what seems to be a political conflict into a brutal ethnic war, thus forfeiting the rewards of India’s Act East Policy.
Here, the Western Deep State’s role is twofold. First, by intensifying Myanmar’s conflict, it created the conditions for spill-over. Second, international media and human rights networks have framed the Manipur crisis in simplistic terms—majoritarian versus minority or fight between two irreconcilable ethnic groups—ignoring the complex cross-border dynamics. This framing isolates penetrative understanding, pressures the already militarized populace, and destabilizes a fledgling local economy that refuses to toe the diktats of globally dominant trade tradition. The goal is clear: keep India off balance, ensure it remains a junior partner in the Quad —a strategic forum of four democracies, comprising India, Australia, Japan, and the United States—and prevent a truly multi-polar Asia.
It is uncomfortable to admit, but necessary: these crises are interconnected symptoms of a dangerous geopolitical contest. Domestic corruption, poor governance, and ethnic strife are real and powerful. But ignoring the role of external forces in exploiting these vulnerabilities is to be willfully blind.
The result? A region’s disentanglement at the seams. From Colombo to Dhaka, Kathmandu to Yangon, and now Imphal, Manipur to Aizawl, Mizoram, the social and political fabric is fraying. The people of South and Western Southeast Asia are becoming pawns in a game they did not choose—played by distant powers for whom their prosperity is secondary to strategic ambition. The venture is underway. And as Manipur’s smouldering landscape shows, the consequences are already dire.