The Naga political struggle, spanning generations, is etched in sacrifices that defy measure: centuries of defiance against erasure, rivers of blood spilled for self-determination, and the slow erosion of hope in all Naga homes across the artificial boundaries. Yet the promise of Naga reintegration and sovereign homeland lies shattered, fragmented into competing shards of tribal and factional interests. This is not mere political discord; it is the unraveling of a people’s identity, the collapse of a collective future. The branches of resistance have splintered into warring offshoots, each feeding on the soil of shared history but yielding only thorns of division. To salvage a resolution worthy of generations of sacrifice, the movement must confront a bitter truth: unity cannot be brokered solely in closed-door deals between armed factions. It must be rebuilt through villages, tribes, and civil institutions, the bedrock of Naga society. Sovereignty, if untethered from the people’s will, becomes a hollow emblem: a flag without a nation, a drumbeat without rhythm, a compass needle spinning wildly in a storm. The Forum for Naga Reconciliation (FNR), despite its noble intent, risks obsolescence if it clings to factional diplomacy while ignoring the rot within Naga civil society. Factions draw power from tribal patronage; sidelining this reality is like treating a disease without identifying the symptoms beneath. Politics may command the stage, but the tribes hold the scaffolding. Neglect the foundation, and the entire structure collapses.
The erosion of Naga solidarity is accelerated by the decay of institutions that once transcended tribal lines. The Naga Hoho, once a unifying force for inter-tribal justice and collective consciousness, now crumbles beneath the weight of division, a bridge fracturing as its people cross. The Naga Students’ Federation (NSF), once a forge for pan-Naga identity, has splintered into tribal cliques chasing narrow agendas, their idealism diluted into petty rivalries. The Naga Mothers’ Association (NMA), whose moral authority once bridged divides, now struggles with muted influence, its voice stifled as though bound by chains. These were not mere organizations; they were the vertebrae of Naga unity, spaces where discordant voices clashed, compromised, and converged around the non-negotiable ideal of Naga re-integration and sovereignty. They functioned as the lifeblood of the body politic, circulating the oxygen of shared aspiration. Their decline is not bureaucratic failure; it is societal suicide, an immune system attacking its own body. In their weakened influences, tribal self-interest fills the void, trading existential purpose for fleeting gains. Reviving these institutions is not nostalgia; it is technical strategy for survival. Without a unified civil front, political negotiations will remain hostage to tribal vetoes, and any accord, whether under India or beyond, will lack the sacred legitimacy born of a people’s united will. Negotiating without unity is like building a dam on quicksand, destined to sink under the weight of its own instability.
The FNR’s mandate must evolve into a dual offensive. While engaging factions, it must ignite a grassroots reckoning with the cancers eating at civil society: land disputes weaponized as tribal warfare, historical grievances fossilized into generational hatred, and communities alienated by a self-serving political class. These are not relics of the past but open wounds poisoning the present. Tribal Hohos must rejoin the Naga Hoho not through empty rhetoric but by demonstrating that their agency will steer the political agenda, like a river carving its own course through resistant stone. Student leaders, seduced by tribal chauvinism, must be reminded of the NSF’s founding oath: to unite, not fracture, the next generation. The NMA, wielding the moral force of motherhood, must disarm hardened factions with the raw truth of loss. Mothers bury sons from all sides. Who better to strip conflict of its illusions? This is not idealism; it is strategy. Divided civil society breeds fractured politics, while unity creates a tidal force factions cannot ignore. Institutional revival is not optional; it is the pivot on which the Naga future turns.
Decades of conflict have birthed a war economy that sustains rival factions and tribal elites, trapping Nagaland in a cycle of dependency and distrust, a serpent devouring its own tail. Marginalized youth, robbed of opportunity, are funneled into factional ranks, their potential sacrificed to fuel a stagnant struggle. Civil institutions, stripped of resources and relevance, lack the strength to counter this spiral. A revitalized Naga Hoho, NSF, and NMA could dismantle this decay by mobilizing education, inter-tribal economic ventures, and cultural projects that mend societal rifts. Imagine tribal elders codifying a shared historical narrative, students building infrastructure across disputed borders, and mothers leading truth-telling circles in scarred villages. Such acts must transcend symbolism; they must reshape consciousness. When communities labor side by side, political divisions crumble. Sovereignty gains legitimacy not through treaties alone but through the undeniable reality of a people already united in action.
Without cohesion, even the most meticulously drafted accord will dissolve like ink in the rain, exploited by external powers and rival ethnic blocs. The sacrifices of ancestors, lives lost, villages burned, traditions defended, will be betrayed if tribes prioritize parochial pride over collective survival. This is not a call for homogenization but for unity-in-diversity: tribal distinctions bending to the urgency of a shared destiny. The FNR must recognize that factions, though loud, are puppets of the people who sustain them. True power lies in villages debating around fires, students organizing across tribal lines, mothers mourning together, and councils deliberating a common future. The script of sovereignty is not penned by warlords but by those who build bridges as the world burns. By rekindling these embers of solidarity, Nagas can transform their struggle from fractured rebellion into an unbreakable political force, one that negotiates not from desperation but from the invincible authority of unity.
When the people stand as one, the dream of sovereignty ceases to be a mirage. It becomes destiny.
Kuknalim
Markson V Luikham
