As India grapples with the complexities of its federal fabric, the proposed creation of a Frontier Nagaland Territory (FNT) has emerged as a potential game-changer.
As India continues to grapple with the complexities of its federal fabric, the proposed creation of a Frontier Nagaland Territory (FNT) has emerged as a potential game-changer—a middle path crafted to address the long-festering grievances of neglect and underdevelopment in eastern Nagaland. With the Government of India (GoI), the Eastern Nagaland People's Organisation (ENPO), and the Nagaland state government currently locked in high-level dialogue, the nation might be on the verge of crafting a unique governance model—one that keeps the state’s map intact while giving real teeth to autonomy in a region that has long been left out in the cold.
For decades, the six eastern districts—Mon, Tuensang, Longleng, Kiphire, Noklak, and Shamator—have been lagging behind the curve, burdened by administrative apathy, poor development indicators, and muted political clout. In a bid to break the deadlock, ENPO had pitched for a separate state. While full-fledged statehood remains a distant dream, Delhi has hinted at meeting them halfway—with the offer of a special Frontier Nagaland Territory carved within Nagaland, yet armed with greater financial and administrative powers.
But every bold idea needs a solid legal spine. Article 371A already grants Nagaland special safeguards over its land, customs, and resources. Now, the Centre could either bolster this article with a new clause or introduce an entirely new provision—say, Article 371AA—or even pass a standalone law to give the FNT its legal footing. Unlike the Sixth Schedule, which provides for district councils in other tribal areas, the FNT is expected to be more than just another council—it aims to stand tall as a parallel administrative mechanism, with genuine financial autonomy.
Importantly, this proposal doesn’t aim to redraw Nagaland’s borders. Rather, it intends to ring-fence the six districts into a distinct administrative enclave, akin to a Union Territory operating within a state. An Administrator—likely appointed by the President or Governor—could helm the FNT, backed by a Frontier Secretariat housed in one of the eastern districts. Critical departments like education, health, rural development, and local governance may soon fall directly under this new regime.
The real sticking point, however, is law and order. Policing is a State subject, and full control is unlikely to be handed over. Yet, a hybrid model might be in the offing: perhaps a dedicated Frontier Police Force under local control for internal matters, while broader law enforcement continues under the Nagaland Police, with both sides working under a shared chain of command overseen by the Governor. Such a model could nip future turf wars in the bud.
But it’s the financial architecture that could be the real game-changer. If cleared, FNT may get its purse strings directly from Delhi, bypassing Kohima. Direct funding—possibly from the Ministry of Home Affairs or DONER—would mean faster project execution, less red tape, and more bang for the buck. It’s a formula that promises empowerment without disruption.
The idea of FNT is not about drawing new lines on the map—it’s about drawing marginalised communities into the mainstream. Such creative power-sharing arrangement may well become a precedent for others—be it Gorkhaland, Bodoland, or even Ladakh before its UT status.
Mathew Rongmei
Dimapur