Peripheral narrative

Nagaland stands at a crossroad where the desire for progress meets the weight of self-imposed constraints. There is, undeniably, a genuine yearning within society to move forward with clarity, confidence, and collective vision. But aspirations alone cannot propel a people toward a brighter future-especially when those entrusted with shaping that vision remain trapped in the myths of the past. Too often, the state’s political discourse is dominated by individuals who cloak nostalgic sentiments in the language of progress. Behind the rhetoric of being “forward-looking” lies a mindset still rooted in parochialism and self-interest which is softened and camouflaged with a culture of rhetorical euphemism. This paradox has left the Naga polity adrift-guided not by the wise, the visionary, or the compassionate, but by those who view society through the narrow prisms of tribe and politics. The result is a growing dissonance in public life. Rational and reformist voices are drowned in the cacophony of emotive social and political narratives. As competing interests pull in different directions, the people of Nagaland must ask themselves: how long will they remain anchored to old divisions instead of navigating together toward a common horizon? In a world defined by digital connectivity-where ideas traverse oceans within seconds-it is tragic that medieval mindsets still govern public thought. Despite living in the twenty-first century, many continue to cling to outdated notions of dominance, exclusivity, and obedience to tribal or political loyalties. This regressive thinking has eroded the very nutrients essential for the healthy growth of a democratic society. Equally concerning is the growing culture of silence. Public discourse, instead of being open and fearless, has become tentative and subdued. Many refrain from speaking the truth lest they provoke their own “Frankensteins”-power centres or organizations capable of retaliation. This fear has not only compromised democratic expression but also blunted the vitality of the fourth estate. Increasingly, the media too seems to have accepted a self-imposed censorship, choosing caution over courage. In the process, Nagaland’s society has been subtly conditioned to accept the status quo as natural, even just. Nearly every institution-from political entities to social organizations-operates within a comfort zone that rewards conformity rather than conscience. Beneath the surface, however, society is hurting. A sense of uncertainty and fragmentation pervades the environment as the ties that once bound communities together are steadily replaced by tribal alliances and sectarian ambitions. Today, affiliation to tribe or organization has become the new password for free speech and free action. Loyalty, rather than integrity, determines one’s right to be heard. While peace and unity are routinely proclaimed, they ring hollow without genuine love and mutual respect. Without these, the pursuit of unity becomes hollow-a tyranny disguised as harmony-and only breeds fear, resentment, and mistrust. True progress in Nagaland will not come from slogans or selective solidarity. It demands moral courage: the willingness to stand up for truth and justice, even when it challenges one’s own clan or community. Only then can the principles of Christian love and shared humanity heal the fractures that divide society and guide Nagaland toward the inclusive, enlightened future it deserves.