The successors of Naga Club, which was established with the idea of Naga nationhood, have the task at hand to translate that idea into forms of life and organisation.
On the Enduring Legacy of 1918 and the Prospects for Constructive Nagaism
In the closing months of the Great War, a modest assembly of educated Naga gentlemen gathered in Kohima to form the Naga Club. The date most commonly accepted is January 7, 1918. The founders were interpreters, clerks, schoolmasters, and other servants of the Deputy Commissioner’s office—men who had learned English and gained some familiarity with the wider world. Their enterprise appeared unassuming, yet its consequences proved profound. Eleven years later, on January 10, 1929, the Club submitted a memorandum to the Indian Statutory Commission, better known as the Simon Commission. In language at once dignified and resolute, the signatories declared that the Nagas constituted a distinct people, that foreign laws and customs must not supersede their own, and that they ought not be incorporated, without their consent, into any reformed scheme of Indian government. The document asserted, in words that have retained their force across a century: “We should not be thrust to the mercy of other people who could never subjugate us, but leave us alone to determine ourselves as in ancient time.” With that single act of collective representation, the Club laid the conceptual foundation for what subsequent generations have understood as Naga nationhood.
The Foundation Laid in 1918 and 1929
The Naga Club did not create a political party or mobilise an armed movement. It articulated an idea. Nagaism, in its purest sense, is the conviction that the various Naga tribes—despite differences in language, territory, and custom—form a single people whose identity, land, and institutions merit recognition and protection. The memorandum’s insistence on being “left alone” was not a demand for total isolation from human intercourse but a defence of a people's right to order their affairs according to their own genius. The signatories spoke not merely for the tribes of the Naga Hills District but also claimed to represent the wider Naga regions. In doing so, they transformed a collection of village communities long accustomed to inter-tribal rivalry into a people capable of speaking with one voice on the stage of imperial constitutional reform. That voice proved durable. It inspired the Naga National Council, the August 14, 1947 declaration of independence, the 1951 plebiscite, and the long, tragic armed struggle that followed. Yet the Club itself, having performed its historic service, gradually receded from political leadership. For extended periods, it remained dormant, formally reviving only in the later decades of the twentieth century under the auspices of Naga elders. Today, it remains a venerable but limited organisation, more symbolic than executive.
The successors to the Naga Club—whether understood as the Naga Hoho, the various tribal Hohos, the Naga Students’ Federation, church bodies, or informal networks of intellectuals and elders—inherit both the honour and the burden of that founding idea. In contemporary Nagaland and among Naga communities straddling the India-Myanmar border, the practical tasks are manifold. The most urgent is to restore unity. Modern politics, competing political settlements, and the fragmentation of apex bodies have intensified tribal particularism, once the natural condition of Naga life. In recent years, the Naga Hoho has lost key constituent organisations and is being reconstituted. A revived spirit of Nagaism must begin with Angami, Ao, Sumi, Lotha, Tangkhul, Konyak, Chakhesang, Maos, Poumais, and every other tribe's willingness to regard the larger Naga identity as complementary to, rather than competitive with, their own. Without that internal reconciliation, no external claim retains moral force.
The Role of Successors in the Naga Hills
In the Naga Hills of India and Myanmar, the Club's successors can contribute most effectively by focusing on the areas where the original Club was strongest: education, the preservation of customary law, the documentation of history, and the cultivation of a common public opinion. They may serve as custodians of the 1929 memorandum and of the oral and written records of Naga experience, ensuring that succeeding generations understand the dignity and restraint with which their forebears first asserted their distinctiveness. They may encourage the peaceful resolution of inter-tribal disputes and the equitable sharing of the benefits of modern development. Across the international border, they may facilitate cultural exchange, linguistic cooperation, and humanitarian concern without political entanglements that would alarm either New Delhi or Naypyidaw. The goal is not to reconstitute an armed struggle or to revive claims that have repeatedly failed to secure international recognition, but to quietly strengthen the social and cultural fabric that makes Naga particularism viable in the twenty-first century.
Reviving the spirit of Nagaism globally in a safe way is delicate. The international community, particularly the governments of India and Myanmar, regards any organised expression of Naga nationhood with suspicion if it appears to threaten territorial integrity or invite external interference. The history of the Naga movement shows that armed insurgency, external patronage, and maximalist political demands lead to isolation rather than recognition. A safe and sustainable revival must therefore be cultural, intellectual, and economic rather than political in the classical sense. The Naga diaspora—scattered across Europe, North America, and Southeast Asia—possesses educational resources, professional skills, and international connections that the Club of 1918 could scarcely have imagined. These communities can organise conferences, publish scholarly works, support museums and archives, and present Naga art, music, and customary practices to global audiences. Academic partnerships with universities in India, Myanmar, and beyond can examine Naga history and anthropology without presupposing secession. Economic enterprises that celebrate Naga craftsmanship, agriculture, and tourism can integrate Naga communities into regional and global markets while reinforcing, rather than diluting, local identity.
Particularism in a Multipolar World
Such activities do not require, nor should they invite, international suspicion. They resemble the cultural diplomacy practised by countless other peoples—Scots, Catalans, Kurds in their non-political forms, and indigenous nations of the Americas—who maintain distinct identities within larger political frameworks. The essential safeguard is renouncing violence and any programme that seeks to alter existing international borders by force or external imposition. Within that limit, Naga particularism aligns with today's understanding of self-determination: the right of people to preserve their language, culture, and institutions and to participate meaningfully in decisions that affect their lives.
The central question of our age is whether nationalism or sub-nationalism retains value in a rapidly globalising world that appears to be moving towards multipolar arrangements of power. The answer is yes, provided we understand nationalism not as a zero-sum claim to exclusive sovereignty but as the organised expression of a people’s distinctive contribution to the common human inheritance. Globalisation has not erased particular identities; in many cases, it has intensified the desire to preserve them. Despite its supranational institutions, the European Union continues to accommodate the linguistic and cultural distinctiveness of its member peoples. Multipolarity, far from demanding cultural uniformity, creates space for a greater variety of civilisational voices. In such a world, Nagaism can contribute precisely by remaining itself. The Naga experience of village democracy, customary law that reconciles individual liberty with communal obligation, an ecological sensibility rooted in the forest and the terrace, and a Christian faith indigenised without being extinguished—these are not relics to be discarded in the name of progress. They can enrich the larger conversation about sustainable development, minority rights, and the proper limits of the modern state.
Practical avenues for such contributions are already evident. In education, Naga institutions of higher learning and the growing number of Naga scholars abroad can collaborate with counterparts in India and Southeast Asia on research into customary law, environmental management, and the anthropology of highland societies. Economically, the distinctive crafts, textiles, and agricultural products of the Naga Hills can reach markets that value authenticity and sustainable production. Carefully managed tourism can present the Nagas' landscape and living culture to the world without reducing them to spectacle. In the ecclesiastical sphere, Naga churches, long a unifying force, can participate in wider Christian networks while retaining their indigenous character. Each of these activities strengthens the community's internal life and shows external observers that Naga particularism enriches rather than disrupts.
Another consideration is language and historical memory. English remains the primary medium through which Nagas communicate across tribal and international boundaries, yet preserving indigenous languages is essential to the survival of distinct identity. Successors of the Club can promote bilingual education that prepares young people for global participation while ensuring that Naga oral traditions, folklore, and customary terminology are systematically recorded and taught. Likewise, carefully curating archives—including the 1929 memorandum, missionary records, administrative documents, and elders' testimonies—can provide a solid foundation for future scholarship and for educating successive generations. Such work is uncontroversial, constructive, and fully consistent with the Naga Club's original spirit, which relied on literacy and the written word to assert a collective voice.
Moreover, the Club's successors may foster a disciplined public discourse that distinguishes legitimate cultural assertion from confrontational rhetoric. Twentieth-century history shows that claims couched in the language of absolute sovereignty and exclusive territorial rights tend to harden positions and invite repression. By contrast, claims framed in terms of cultural continuity, institutional autonomy within existing constitutional frameworks, and mutual benefit are more readily accepted. In the Naga context, this suggests emphasising the protection of customary land tenure, recognising traditional local governance institutions, and affirming communities' right to manage their natural resources under principles of stewardship rather than extraction. These emphases align with the constitutional orders of both India and Myanmar and with international norms on indigenous and minority rights. They require no alteration of international boundaries and no external sponsorship.
A Constructive Path Forward
The best solution, therefore, is neither a retreat into isolation nor an uncritical embrace of homogenising globalism. It is to cultivate constructive particularism. The successors of the Naga Club should dedicate themselves to the internal renewal of Naga unity, the peaceful preservation of culture and custom, the education of the young in both their own heritage and the skills of the modern world, and the building of bridges—economic, academic, and cultural—with the societies of India, Myanmar, and the wider world. They should do so without expecting immediate political sovereignty and without the bitterness that has too often accompanied unrealised political hope. The spirit of the Club of 1918 was one of dignity, foresight, and collective self-respect. That spirit remains available. In a multipolar age that prizes diversity even as it seeks mutual benefit, a people who know who they are, can speak with one voice about what matters most to them, and are willing to contribute their particular gifts to the common good need neither hide nor apologise. They may take their place, modestly but confidently, among the nations of the earth—not necessarily as a separate state, but as a people whose distinctiveness enriches the whole.
PS:
The Naga Club of 1918 performed a service that cannot be undone. It established, in clear and memorable language, the idea of Naga nationhood on a solid foundation of historical fact, customary right, and moral claim. Its successors' task is not to replicate the political circumstances of the colonial era but to translate that idea into forms of life and organisation that are viable, peaceful, and contributive in the present century. If they succeed, Nagaism will have shown that particularism and globalisation are not enemies but partners in the long human enterprise of living well together. That demonstration is the most fitting honour the present generation can pay to the gentlemen who first gathered in Kohima more than a century ago.
Besesayo Kezo, IPS, Retd. DGP