The Naga political movement, born out of sacrifice, today stands fractured by various Naga political groups proclaiming to be the true custodian of Naga sovereignty.
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During my travels abroad, I was once asked by a man who was well-versed with Naga history and politics: “What are you Nagas fighting for?” I answered, “We are fighting for our political rights, self-determination, and sovereignty.” He responded, “Great—but if you have division, if you are disunited, then your hopes and dreams will never be fulfilled.”
That brief exchange has stayed with me. It captured, in a few honest words, the tragedy of our present condition. The Naga political movement, born out of sacrifice and conviction, today stands fractured by unnecessary factions—each proclaiming itself the true custodian of Naga sovereignty, yet collectively weakening the very cause they claim to uphold.
When the freedom movement began, it emerged as a single, united front. It was a grim and painful period for the Nagas. Villages were uprooted, lives were lost, and countless men and women paid with their blood and dignity. They stood together against the Indian Army, driven by a shared vision and an unshakeable belief in a common destiny. Unity was their strength; purpose was their compass.
Fast forward to the present, and the contrast is stark. We now have a bewildering number of factions—each with its own chairman, president, ato kilonser, and elaborate hierarchy. The question that must be asked, without fear or favour, is this: what have these divisions achieved for the Naga people? What tangible political, economic, or social gains can be placed before the public as fruits of decades of fragmentation?
Instead of clarity, we have confusion. The much-talked-about Agreement with the Government of India remains under wraps, while ordinary citizens are left guessing about their own political future. In the absence of transparency and unity, rumours thrive, mistrust deepens, and fatigue sets in among the people. A movement that once inspired sacrifice now struggles to inspire confidence.
Let us be honest: the Government of India has little incentive to take a divided people seriously. As long as Nagas negotiate through multiple voices with competing claims, New Delhi can afford to delay, divide, and manage. Dialogue becomes easier for the Centre, not because it is sincere, but because it can parcel out economic packages, development funds, and temporary assurances to different groups at different times. This is not statesmanship; it is strategy—and it works precisely because we allow it to.
The cost of this division is borne by the common Naga. Businesses are taxed multiple times by different underground groups, often without accountability or visible benefit. Traders, entrepreneurs, and even small shopkeepers live under constant pressure, unsure whom they are expected to pay and for what purpose. It is therefore not surprising that many people and businesses increasingly resist paying taxes to underground organisations. This resistance is not always born out of disloyalty to the Naga cause; rather, it stems from exhaustion, mistrust, and the absence of a clear, unified moral authority.
A genuine national movement commands respect because it reflects discipline, unity, and a shared moral vision. Today, many Nagas struggle to see these qualities reflected in the multitude of factions. When leaders are seen competing for influence rather than collaborating for the common good, public faith erodes. When internal rivalries overshadow national goals, the movement loses its moral high ground.
History offers us a hard but necessary lesson: no divided people have ever achieved lasting freedom. Unity does not mean uniformity of thought, but it does demand a single, overarching platform where differences are resolved internally, not paraded publicly to our detriment. An umbrella organisation—credible, inclusive, and accountable—is no longer an option; it is an urgent necessity.
If Naga political groups truly seek the support of the masses, they must first respect the intelligence and dignity of the people. This respect must be demonstrated through unity of purpose, transparency in negotiations, and accountability in action. When Nagas speak with one voice, India will be compelled to listen. When our goals are single-focused and our representation unified, dialogue will have meaning and negotiations will have direction.
As long as we remain divided, India will not respect us. It will manage us. And management is not freedom.
The Great Divide among the Nagas is not merely political; it is moral and existential. Bridging it requires courage—not the courage to form yet another faction, but the courage to set aside personal ambition for national interest. The dreams of sovereignty, self-determination, and political rights that once united our forefathers deserve more than endless fragmentation. They deserve unity, clarity, and a renewed commitment to the collective future of the Naga people.
Until we overcome this divide, the question asked of me abroad will continue to haunt us all: What are the Nagas fighting for—and why are they fighting each other along the way?
A. Anato Swu