Xavier Pfokrehe Mao
Department of Philosophy, North-Eastern Hill University, Shillong
Public statements made by senior political leaders carry enduring consequences, particularly in regions marked by complex histories and sensitive identities. In this context, certain remarks made by former Nagaland Chief Minister and former Governor S. C. Jamir on 9 November 2024 on North-East Live, describing Nagas of Manipur as “Manipuris,” call for careful clarification and reflection.
This concern is not new. In 1999, Jamir’s reference to “real” and “unreal” Nagas—implying a hierarchy between Nagas of Nagaland and those from Manipur—was met with widespread criticism from Naga political organisations, civil society groups, and intellectuals. Such formulations, even when made in moments of political strain, risk deepening divisions within a people who share historical, cultural, and kinship ties across present-day state boundaries. The long-standing estrangement of some student organisations from their parent bodies illustrates how lasting the impact of such narratives can be.
From a historical standpoint, the identification of Nagas of Manipur as Manipuris is inaccurate. The term Manipuri is historically associated with the Meitei people of the Imphal Valley. Ancient Manipur was known as Kangleipak(dried-up), Meitei Leipak(land of the meitei), or Sana Leipak(land of god), designations that clearly refer to the valley civilisation. The name Manipur itself was adopted in 1709 during the reign of King Pamheiba (Garibniwaz), following his conversion to Hinduism.
The administrative inclusion of the Naga hill areas with the Imphal Valley occurred only in 1891 under British colonial rule, primarily for administrative convenience. This was similar to the arbitrary placing of the entire North-East under the Bengal Presidency in the nineteenth century. Historically and culturally, Nagas were neither called Manipuris nor were they an integral part of the Manipur kingdom in a civilisational sense. Political boundaries created by colonial authorities cannot be taken as definitive markers of identity.
Identity, moreover, cannot be reduced to present-day state boundaries. Not all residents of Bengal are Bengalis, just as not all residents of Nagaland are Nagas. Naga identity is shaped by shared ancestry, language, families, customs, and kinship networks that extend across Nagaland, Manipur, Assam, Arunachal Pradesh, and Myanmar. Groups such as the Mao and Poumai share close affinities with the Angami, Chakhesang, and Rengma within the broader Tenyimi grouping, while the Wanchos and Noctes are closely related to the Konyaks.
Some of Jamir’s sharpness may be understood in the light of the violence he personally experienced, including assassination attempts and the excesses committed by insurgent groups such as the NSCN (I-M). Similar bitterness and disillusionment are evident among families of several prominent Naga leaders who were assassinated over the decades, including WanchaRajkumar, TirongAboh, and the Shaiza brothers. Prolonged exposure to killings, threats, extortion, and intimidation has left deep psychological and moral scars within Naga society.
Yet, precisely because of this painful history, public discourse demands greater restraint, historical accuracy, and moral responsibility—especially from leaders of national stature. Words that appear to exclude, delegitimise, or redefine identities can inadvertently reopen wounds and reinforce mistrust among closely related communities.
The larger issue, therefore, is not merely one of correcting a factual error, but of reflecting on the cumulative effects of political violence and polarising rhetoric on Naga society. There is an urgent need for all Naga political factions and leaders to commit themselves to reducing violence in all its forms and to fostering dialogue rooted in truth and mutual respect.
A more peaceful, humane, and inclusive Naga society is possible only when historical realities are acknowledged and differences are addressed without rancour. In a region that has suffered long from conflict, reconciliation—rather than exclusion—must guide both speech and action.
