Through the maze

After eight decades of self-governance, India continues to grapple with the ghosts of its colonial past. Despite passionate anti-colonial rhetoric and a hard-won independence, a disconcerting number of colonial-era laws persist, shaping the lives of millions. These institutional remnants, once instruments of subjugation, now serve the very state that rose in defiance. A prime example is the Inner Line Permit (ILP), a direct offshoot of the Bengal Eastern Frontier Regulation, 1873. Designed to control tribal areas and their resources for British benefit, the ILP has been repurposed to regulate the movement of non-indigenous Indian citizens into several states, including Nagaland. This echoes a broader pattern: the Foreigners (Protected Areas) Order, 1958, which requires a special permit (PAP) for foreign nationals, is itself an evolution of the British-era Foreigners Act, 1946. In Nagaland, this colonial legacy has created a paradoxical situation. The state government, has followed popular opinion that ILP is needed, purportedly to restrict the entry of suspected Bangladeshi immigrants but then, finds itself opposing the reimposition of the PAP. This stance raises a critical question- if the primary concern is that the PAP will restrict the entry of foreign tourists, then the logical inconsistency is glaring. The PAP, is explicitly to restrict entry of foreigners. One would expect the state to embrace a tool that aligns perfectly with its stated objective of controlling influx of Bangladeshis or foreigners. On the other hand, the ILP, by its very nature, is a tool to regulate the movement of other Indian citizens and not foreigners, from the plains to the hills or tribal areas to protect the tribal people from being swamped. Today, the ILP in Nagaland has been localized with addition of guarantors while suspected foreigners are expected to possess Aadhar, Pan card etc and if they do then it can only confirm their Indian citizenship. Both Centre and state exploit these laws selectively-Delhi to justify surveillance and control, and Kohima to score populist points and preserve political convenience. The losers are always the people. The “brouhaha” over the ILP seems to be aimed at a different target group than the one the PAP would address. It’s a classic case of selective application, where the rhetoric of protecting tribal areas from outsiders clashes with the economic imperative of attracting tourists. The lack of a substantive discussion on this and other pressing issues is disheartening. While the state grapples with existential problems like exodus of business due to rampant extortion, market syndication, acute power shortages, and the never-ending construction of the 4-lane on its record tenth year, focus often seems to drift. Interestingly there was a proposal to discuss “Satanic Worship” but it was mercifully shelved, perhaps wisely, after backlash from the church. However, the energy expended on such a bizarre topic could have been better directed toward the palpable crises affecting the lives of ordinary citizens. Nagaland stands at a crossroads, navigating its unique identity while still tethered the shadows of the mythical past. It is time that the state’s leadership move beyond the contradictions of opinions and engage in a transparent, informed discussion about its future. Only then can it truly chart a course of its own, free from the institutional shadows of the past.