M Zachamo Ezung
BA LL.B, Independent Writer and a Concerned Citizen
Across the world, history shows that when governance fails for too long, people eventually respond. Public unrest is rarely sudden, it grows quietly in societies where corruption is tolerated, accountability weakens, and ordinary citizens are made to bear the burden of elite failure. From contemporary protests to historic people’s revolutions, the underlying cause remains strikingly consistent, systems of power stop serving the people they claim to govern.
Recent events in Bangladesh and Iran illustrate this pattern with clarity. In Bangladesh, protests that began with student demands for fairness in employment quickly exposed deeper frustrations built over years of corruption, shrinking democratic space, and unresponsive governance. When peaceful demands were met with force rather than reform, public anger widened into a nationwide rejection of the system itself. Iran’s protests followed a different trigger but a similar trajectory. Economic collapse, inflation, and unemployment pushed people into the streets, yet the anger soon went far beyond prices and currency. Protesters questioned a political order they felt had lost moral authority—one that demanded sacrifice from citizens while shielding power and privilege. In both cases, repression did not restore stability; instead, it confirmed public belief that institutions no longer existed to protect ordinary lives.
These developments echo some of the most influential people’s revolutions in world history. The French Revolution erupted when ordinary citizens were crushed by taxation and inequality while elites remained insulated from consequence. The American Revolution was driven by the enduring principle that taxation without accountability is oppression. The Russian Revolution followed years of corruption, poverty, and elite indifference to public suffering. India’s own freedom movement demonstrated that moral resistance by ordinary people could overcome even the strongest empire. More recently, the Arab Spring and Sri Lanka’s 2022 uprising showed how long-ignored grievances can suddenly overturn systems that once appeared stable. Each of these moments reinforces a central lesson. when governance loses moral legitimacy, fear eventually changes sides.
Nagaland today exists in a quieter but no less serious version of this global story. On the surface, the state appears calm. Beneath that calm lies widespread frustration. Many citizens experience economic pressure without visible development, persistent allegations of corruption, and a political culture where questioning authority feels risky. Silence has become common, not because people are satisfied, but because many feel speaking out will change nothing. As one widely quoted warning reminds us, “The greatest danger to a democracy is not bad governance alone, but the silence of good people.” When silence replaces participation, injustice gains space to grow unnoticed. History warns that such quiet should not be mistaken for stability; it is often pressure building beneath the surface.
One of the most painful realities for ordinary citizens is the burden of multiple extractions. Alongside official taxation, people are subjected to collections by Naga Political Groups, often framed as duty or contribution. Salaried employees, small traders, contractors, consumers and general puplic are facing the burden of multiple taxes directly or indirectly without transparency, consent, or protection. history has shown that unjust and illegal taxation has repeatedly acted as a spark for revolt because it directly affects daily survival and human dignity. When people are forced to fund power structures they do not control, governance loses its moral foundation.
Another serious challenge or danger confronting the Nagas is the unresolved Naga political issue itself. Decades of negotiations without final resolution have produced confusion, creating uncertainty.
The Framework Agreement and the subsequent Agreed Position raised expectations among the people that a clear political settlement was within reach. However, the absence of transparency, public clarity, and timely conclusion has prolonged uncertainty. As long as these agreements remain unresolved or prolong ambiguity continues to shape political life, enabling parallel systems of authority and weakening accountability. What was once a political question has increasingly become a lived economic and social burden for ordinary citizens.
Equally damaging is the normalization of corruption and institutional silence. The Nagaland Government is expected to protect citizens from exploitation and ensure fairness in public life. When enforcement appears weak or selective, people conclude that systems exist primarily to protect themselves. Over time, corruption stops shocking society and becomes routine. That is often the most dangerous stage, because injustice is no longer resisted; it is accepted as normal.
Another factor that deepens this crisis is the absence of a strong and effective opposition. In any democracy, opposition is not an obstacle to governance but a safeguard against excess. When governments function without meaningful challenge, scrutiny weakens, debate declines, and accountability slowly erodes. Decisions are taken with fewer questions or constructive criticisms. public grievances find fewer platforms, and citizens begin to feel politically unrepresented. An opposition-less political environment may appear stable on the surface, but over time it removes one of democracy’s most important safety valves.
The Constitution of India which promises dignity, equality, and protection from coercion, however when everyday lives experience contradicts these promises, citizens begin to lose faith in the law and to the Law making Authority. Globally, when such belief collapses, protest replaces petition and the streets become the final forum of accountability. As Martin Luther King Jr. once observed, “A riot is the language of the unheard.” While no society wishes to reach that point, history shows that when voices are ignored for too long, expression finds other, often disruptive, forms.
Nagaland has not yet witnessed mass unrest on the scale seen elsewhere, but history suggests this should not be read as permanent calm. France, Russia, Sri Lanka, and many other societies once appeared stable—until they were not. Revolutions and popular movements rarely announce themselves in advance. They emerge when accumulated injustice meets a moment of collective courage.
The lesson from world history and present global unrest is clear and consistent. Good governance prevents upheaval; corruption invites it. Peace built on silence, fear, or tolerated injustice is temporary. Stability without accountability is fragile. Development without dignity is hollow. Nagaland is not far from crisis—not because people desire disorder, but because unresolved political questions, weakened democratic checks, and everyday injustice inevitably seek expression. History is patient, but it is never neutral.
