People’s project under test

Few infrastructure projects in Nagaland embody both promise and frustration as vividly as the Foothill Road Project. Stretching 396 kilometres and ambitiously conceived as the “People’s Road,” it is designed to connect seven districts and serve as a vital economic lifeline. Yet, despite extraordinary public support-landowners donating land without compensation and political groups agreeing not to impose taxes-the project remains mired in delays, technical hurdles, and funding debates. The idea of a foothill road is not new. First envisaged in 1974–75, it faltered under bureaucratic hurdles from the North Eastern Council. A second attempt in 1993 was derailed when Assam objected to any portion of the road touching its territory. That objection revealed not only Assam’s influence in Delhi but also the success of its narrative on border disputes, often leaving Nagaland disadvantaged in regional decision-making. Still, the road is more than an aspiration for Nagaland alone. It represents a larger economic vision for the Northeast, particularly as the Centre pursues its Act East policy. The project was revived in 2013 by the Ao Senden through the Nagaland Foothills Road Coordination Committee (NFHRCC), which recognised the pressing need for a dignified road within Nagaland’s borders. The concept was simple yet strategic: link Tizit to Dimapur while bypassing Assam, thereby avoiding the harassment and blockades that have long disrupted Nagaland’s connectivity. Support soon widened and the Central Nagaland Tribes Council (CNTC) and later the ten Naga Tribal Apex Hohos lent their backing, transforming the project into a unique public movement. Unlike most infrastructure initiatives, this one has been built on voluntary sacrifice and collective resolve. Landowners gave up property freely, and political groups refrained from levying taxes, underscoring the project’s identity as a true “People’s Road.” Yet challenges persist-not from Assam this time, but from within Nagaland itself. Pressure groups and competing interests have complicated progress, with every tribe eager for the road to pass through its area. This insistence, while understandable, has made the alignment longer and less direct. The symbolism of inclusivity risks undermining the logic of efficiency. Posterity may well judge whether linking districts for unity outweighs the economic rationale of shorter, more strategic routes. Nevertheless, the project’s significance cannot be overstated. It is not merely about asphalt and bridges; it is about dignity, connectivity, and the assertion of Nagaland’s place in the regional economy. If completed and with quality workmanship, the Foothill Road could transform trade, tourism, and mobility, reducing dependence on routes through Assam and strengthening Nagaland’s integration with the broader Northeast. The story of the Foothill Road is, ultimately, a story of how public resolve make a difference. From its conception in the 1970s to its revival in 2013, it has survived bureaucratic indifference, political objections, and logistical challenges. It remains a testament to the determination of the people, who have invested not just land but hope in its completion. Nagaland’s Foothill Road may not be the shortest path, but it is the most symbolic one. Its eventual completion will mark not only the triumph of infrastructure but also the triumph of collective will-a road built by the people, for the people, and for the future of Nagaland.