A Visitor from Nagaland Reflects on Northern Ireland
A. Anato Swu, Nagaland, Northeast India (Writing from County Antim, Northern Ireland)
On my fourth visit to Northern Ireland, I found myself looking at this familiar land with fresh eyes. Each return has deepened my appreciation of its beauty, history and generous people. It has also led me to reflect on the divisions that remain, the hard work of peace, and the inheritance every generation must choose to protect.
I have travelled a long way from the hills of Nagaland in Northeast India, yet Northern Ireland has gradually become a place I know and care about. Its green countryside, rugged coast, historic castles, villages and distinctive architecture have a character all their own. At the Giant’s Causeway, Carrickfergus Castle, Dunluce Castle, Stormont, Titanic Belfast, Rathlin Island and the old streets of Derry/Londonderry, the past feels close enough to touch.
A visitor may notice what daily life can make easy to overlook. When a landscape is always outside the window, it can begin to seem ordinary. A centuries-old building, a traditional song or a local celebration may lose some of its wonder through familiarity. Yet these are extraordinary gifts: part of the inheritance of the people who live here.
In Nagaland, our natural surroundings, customs and cultural identity are deeply cherished. That has made me especially aware of Northern Ireland’s own inheritance: its scenery, music, literature, folklore, architecture and community traditions. These are more than attractions for visitors or subjects for history books. They are living treasures, passed from one generation to the next, and deserving of care and pride.
Irish and Ulster-Scots traditions, alongside British and wider European influences, have shaped a distinctive cultural life expressed through music, poetry, storytelling, dance, language and community celebrations. Belfast’s shipbuilding past, including the construction of the RMS Titanic, remains an important part of maritime history. The city’s growth into a centre for education, commerce, technology and creative work is another achievement worth recognising.
There is also a historical connection between Northern Ireland and my homeland that gives my visits particular meaning. British contact with the Naga Hills began in the nineteenth century, including early expeditions in 1832. The relationship that followed was complex and often violent. Naga communities resisted outside interference and efforts to weaken their traditional independence.
One especially powerful connection reaches back to the Second World War. During the Battle of Kohima in 1944, local Naga people served as guides, scouts, informants, porters and stretcher-bearers, often at great personal risk, as Allied forces faced the advancing Japanese army. The Kohima War Cemetery remains a solemn reminder of the human cost. Its epitaph—”When You Go Home, Tell Them of Us and Say, For Your Tomorrow, We Gave Our Today”—continues to honour courage and sacrifice.
These histories remind me that distance does not prevent people from recognising echoes in one another’s experiences. Both societies have lived through difficult periods shaped by British rule, competing political aspirations, questions of identity and the search for peace. Their histories are distinct, and should not be treated as interchangeable. Still, each offers a perspective through which to listen and learn.
Christianity is another important part of Northern Ireland’s social and cultural history. Nagaland is also a predominantly Christian society, where faith is woven into everyday life, so this is a source of familiarity for me. In Northern Ireland, however, religious identity has at times become intertwined with political allegiance, national identity and constitutional aspirations. The resulting divisions have reached beyond theology into questions of culture, belonging and representation. Faith itself should not be confused with political conflict conducted in its name. At its heart, Christianity calls people to love, forgiveness, humility, compassion and reconciliation.
These reflections shape the way I view Northern Ireland’s politics: with curiosity and, at times, disappointment. Nagaland has its own long and complicated experience of political conflict, factionalism and peace efforts. I recognise how deeply the Troubles wounded families, communities and institutions. The Belfast Agreement, commonly known as the Good Friday Agreement, signed on 10 April 1998, was a historic achievement. It created a framework for power-sharing and peaceful democratic participation, affirmed the principle of consent on Northern Ireland’s constitutional future, and recognised the right of people to identify as British, Irish or both.
The restoration of devolved government in February 2024, with Michelle O’Neill as First Minister and Emma Little-Pengelly as deputy First Minister, was another significant step. Reaching a peace agreement takes courage; sustaining it asks for patience, political maturity and continuing commitment.
After so much suffering and sacrifice, it is natural to hope that antagonism and inherited grievances will give way to stronger cooperation and a shared vision. Northern Ireland contains a range of legitimate constitutional aspirations, from remaining in the United Kingdom to seeking a united Ireland. Sinn Féin, the Democratic Unionist Party, the Ulster Unionist Party, the Social Democratic and Labour Party, the Alliance Party and others represent different traditions and views. Democratic disagreement is part of public life. The deeper concern is when rivalry, accusation and political point-scoring seem to outweigh the needs of ordinary people.
People deserve dependable institutions, accessible healthcare, affordable housing, meaningful work, effective public services and real opportunities for younger generations. Those elected to office are entrusted with serving the public. Their success should be measured by whether life improves for the people they represent, not by how thoroughly they defeat or embarrass their opponents.
Religious conviction and public responsibility can strengthen one another. In a place with a strong Christian heritage, faith can encourage honesty, humility, compassion, integrity and accountability. Shared values can bring people together across differences rather than deepen them.
My perspective is inevitably shaped by Nagaland’s experience. We know the strain of prolonged uncertainty, competing aspirations, factional divisions and attempts at reconciliation. When differences become more important than common ground, younger generations can inherit grievances they did not create. We have also learned that peace is more than the absence of violence. It means living without fear, having the chance to study and work, feeling able to plan for the future, and disagreeing without hatred.
The Good Friday Agreement offers a lesson to societies facing long conflict: compromise need not mean surrendering identity, history or principle. It can mean accepting that the future of an entire population matters more than a complete political victory for any one group. Agreements alone cannot keep peace alive. Mutual respect, understanding, forgiveness and a willingness to loosen the grip of inherited bitterness must sustain it.
I admire Northern Ireland and its people. I value the natural beauty, cultural traditions, history, hospitality and resilience I have encountered here. Honest reflection does not diminish that admiration, just as appreciation need not prevent difficult questions.
As a visitor from a distant part of India, I would never claim to understand every complexity of Northern Ireland’s past or politics. But one need not belong to a society to recognise the human cost of division or the value of peace. I hope, in particular, that younger people will be able to look beyond the political and sectarian divisions handed down to them. They deserve a future where friendship is not decided by community background, opportunity is not limited by inherited identity, and respect is stronger than prejudice.
As I continue to explore this beautiful land, I hope its social and political life will become as inspiring as its landscape: more cooperation, less suspicion, and a stronger commitment to the common good.
From the hills of Nagaland, I carry a sincere wish for Northern Ireland: may its people cherish the blessings around them, care for their natural environment, preserve their cultural heritage and honour the history entrusted to them. Above all, may they keep building a society grounded in justice, unity, religious tolerance and genuine reconciliation.
The greatest inheritance any generation can leave is not political power or material success. It is the peace it protects and the better future it makes possible for those who come after.
(The views expressed are those of the writer and not of the newspaper)
