Peace activist Niketu Iralu's most enduring contribution was, perhaps, his work on internal Naga reconciliation and peaceful resolution of the Naga conflict.
Niketu Iralu (1935–2026): A nationalist who became an internationalist for peace
The passing of Niketu Iralu (1935–2026) marks the end of a remarkable life devoted not merely to the Naga cause, but to the larger human cause of reconciliation, justice and peace. He was a nationalist without being imprisoned by nationalism, an internationalist without losing his roots, and a man of peace who understood that lasting political solutions are possible only when human relationships are healed. His life therefore deserves to be remembered not simply as the life of a prominent Naga, but as that of a bridge-builder between peoples, communities and conflicting worldviews.
Niketu Iralu came from Khonoma, a village deeply associated with Naga resistance and political history. He was also related to A. Z. Phizo, one of the most important figures of the Naga national movement. Yet his own life's journey took a distinctive direction. Rather than choosing the path of armed confrontation, he chose the difficult path of dialogue, reconciliation and moral transformation. He worked internationally with the Moral Re-Armament movement, later known as Initiatives of Change, travelling across continents and encountering societies struggling with division and conflict. That international experience profoundly shaped his understanding of the Naga problem.
From Naga nationalism to a larger vision of humanity
Niketu's nationalism was rooted in an intense love for his people, their history, dignity and aspirations. But he understood something that is often forgotten in nationalist movements: love of one's own people cannot require hatred of another people.
This distinction was central to his life's work. He recognised the legitimacy of Naga aspirations while simultaneously recognising the necessity of living with neighbours and finding a peaceful relationship with India. He repeatedly argued that even when political aspirations remained unresolved, Nagas could not afford to return to killing one another. His approach therefore placed human life and reconciliation alongside political objectives rather than beneath them.
This is what made him both a nationalist and an internationalist. His nationalism gave him roots; internationalism gave him perspective. He did not abandon the Naga question when he embraced peace. Instead, he sought to rescue the Naga cause from the destructive logic of violence.
Perhaps Niketu's most enduring contribution was his work on internal Naga reconciliation. He understood that the Naga conflict was not simply a confrontation between Nagas and the Government of India. Over time, divisions among Naga groups, factions, tribes and communities had themselves become a devastating source of suffering.
After the 1997 ceasefire, he became deeply involved in efforts to encourage dialogue among Naga groups. In 2001, following the controversy and violence surrounding the extension of the ceasefire to Naga-inhabited areas outside Nagaland, the Naga Hoho entrusted him with convening a reconciliation committee. The committee sought both to promote reconciliation among Nagas and to reach out to neighbouring communities whose fears had intensified.
One of the most significant moments came on 20 December 2001, when representatives of more than 35 Naga tribes and sub-tribes, churches, civil-society organisations and Naga political factions participated in a major reconciliation gathering in Kohima. 132 Naga leaders signed a pledge committing themselves to practical steps towards restitution and healing.
The process did not achieve all that it had hoped to. Political mistrust, factional rivalry and renewed violence repeatedly interrupted it. Yet this should not be interpreted as failure. Niketu understood that reconciliation is rarely a single event. It is a long moral process requiring patience, humility and the courage to listen even when agreement seems impossible.
His work in Khonoma offers another powerful example. He helped initiate reconciliation among villagers divided by old conflicts, and several cases involving intra-village killings and injuries were brought to reconciliation. The lesson was profound: before a society can resolve its external political conflict, it must also confront the wounds within itself.
Beyond Nagaland: Reaching across the Northeast
Niketu never confined peace-making to Nagaland. He understood that the Naga question affected — and was affected by — the wider Northeast. Territorial aspirations, ethnic anxieties and competing political claims meant that any durable solution had to take neighbouring peoples seriously.
His approach was therefore not simply “What do the Nagas want?” but also “How can the aspirations of different peoples coexist without one community feeling threatened by another?”
That was a particularly important contribution. A peace process cannot be sustainable if it produces a winner and a permanently frightened loser. Peace requires not only an agreement between political negotiators but confidence among ordinary communities.
His emphasis on listening became central to this philosophy. His home, known as Kerünyü Ki — the “Listening House”, became a place where people from different sides of conflicts could meet, speak and listen. A recent academic study described his work as an important example of reconciliation through listening.
His contribution to the national conflict
At the national level, Niketu represented a rare form of citizenship: he could speak honestly about Naga grievances without turning that honesty into hostility towards India.
He understood that the Indo-Naga conflict could not be solved by military means alone. Nor could it be resolved by political declarations without addressing the fears, memories, and aspirations of the people involved. He consistently advocated dialogue, non-violence, and an “honourable and workable” settlement. He emphasised that conflicts must be recognized and addressed before they multiply.
His participation in public discussions of the Naga conflict — including at Harvard University's Asia Centre — demonstrated that his voice had relevance beyond the immediate political arena. He was recognized there as a peace activist engaged in the continuing search for a peaceful resolution of the Naga conflict.
His contribution was therefore not that he possessed a magic formula for solving the Naga problem. Rather, he helped change the language and moral framework in which the problem could be discussed: from victory to coexistence, from blame to responsibility, from revenge to reconciliation, and from the politics of exclusion to the possibility of shared dignity.
From local conflicts to international peace
Niketu's international experience was not an ornamental part of his biography. It was fundamental to his intellectual formation.
His decades of work with Moral Re-Armament/Initiatives of Change exposed him to conflicts across continents and to the possibility of transforming relationships through personal honesty, listening and trust-building.
Consequently, he brought an unusual perspective back to the Northeast: peace begins with the transformation of the individual.
For him, conflict resolution was not simply a matter of conferences, accords and political institutions. It required people to examine their own prejudices, acknowledge their own responsibility and develop the humility to hear the pain of the other.
This philosophy explains why he continued to speak to students, young people, civil-society groups and ordinary citizens. As recently as February 2026, he was urging young people to accept personal responsibility for building a peaceful and just society rather than placing the entire burden on political leaders.
A teacher and philosopher of peace
Niketu Iralu was a teacher, but not primarily because he occupied a classroom. His classroom was society itself.
His lessons were simple but demanding:
Listen before judging.
Take responsibility before blaming.
Seek reconciliation before revenge.
Change oneself before demanding that others change.
Love one's people without dehumanising others.
These ideas placed him in the Gandhian tradition of moral politics. He believed that political transformation without personal transformation would remain incomplete. His public interventions repeatedly stressed non-violence, individual responsibility, and the reduction of selfishness.
He was also a philosopher in the practical sense. His philosophy was not detached speculation; it was tested against the painful realities of conflict. He knew that peace is not the absence of disagreement. Peace is the capacity to disagree without destroying one another.
A friend to the wounded
Perhaps the most intimate way to remember Niketu is as a friend. He had the rare capacity to enter a conflict without immediately asking, “Whose side are you on?” His first question was closer to: “What has happened to you, and what has happened to the relationship between us?”
That attitude enabled him to speak to people who did not necessarily agree with one another — and sometimes did not agree with him. His moral authority came less from political power than from personal trust.
His “Listening House” symbolised this vocation. Listening, in his understanding, was not passive. It was an act of courage. To genuinely listen to an opponent is to recognize their humanity without necessarily accepting their political position. That is one of the most difficult disciplines in conflict resolution.
The meaning of his legacy
Niketu's legacy should not be measured only by whether a final political settlement was achieved during his lifetime. If that were the only measure, the contribution of many peace-builders would disappear from history.
His deeper legacy lies in the culture of peace that he helped create.
He helped demonstrate that Naga nationalism could coexist with non-violence; that reconciliation among Naga groups was possible even after terrible violence; that neighbouring communities had to be part of the conversation; and that the Naga question could be discussed within India without surrendering Naga dignity.
He also demonstrated that a person from a small Himalayan community could speak to the world about universal questions: conflict, identity, reconciliation, responsibility, and peace.
His recognition by Initiatives of Change International with a Lifetime Achiever Award in 2025 was therefore fitting: it acknowledged a lifetime devoted to trust-building in the conflict-affected Northeast.
Comment: A man whose weapon was trust
The greatest tribute to Niketu Iralu is perhaps not to call him a “great peace activist,” but to understand what kind of peace activist he was.
He did not romanticise conflict. He knew its costs. He did not dismiss nationalism. He understood its emotional and historical power. But he refused to accept the proposition that political differences must inevitably become human hatred.
His life offers the Naga people — and indeed India and the wider world — a difficult but necessary lesson: a conflict is not truly resolved when the guns become silent; it is resolved when people who once feared or hated one another can again recognize each other's humanity.
For the Nagas, he leaves the task of reconciliation unfinished. For India, he leaves a reminder that political conflicts require empathy and imagination as much as negotiation. For the international community, he leaves an example of how local wisdom and personal moral courage can contribute to global peace.
And for those who knew him personally, he leaves something more precious than an ideology: the memory of a gentle human being who believed that listening could open doors that force could never open.
Niketu Iralu was a nationalist because he loved his people.
He was an internationalist because he saw their destiny as part of a larger human family.
He was a peacemaker because he refused to make an enemy of anyone.
He was a teacher because he taught through his life.
He was a philosopher because he asked people to examine themselves before judging others.
And he was a friend because he listened.
His life reminds us that peace is not weakness, compromise is not surrender, and reconciliation is not forgetting. Peace is the courage to remember the wounds of history without letting them dictate the future.
May the memory of Niketu Iralu continue to inspire the Nagas to complete the work he devoted his life to: from conflict to conversation, from division to reconciliation, and from the pursuit of victory to the pursuit of a shared and dignified peace.
Besesayo Kezo, IPS
Retd DGP