For decades, the situation in Naga Land has been referred to in official documents, newspapers, and even public discourse as the Indo-Naga political “issue” or sometimes the Indo-Naga political “problem.” While not incorrect, the terms “issue” or “problem” falls short of capturing the historical, moral, and existential weight of the matter. They reduce decades of struggle, sacrifice, and assertion of identity to bureaucratic inconveniences. What has never been used is the term “question,” and that is more than just a matter of semantics. It is time to recognize it as what it truly is: the Indo-Naga political question. Calling it the Indo-Naga political question elevates the discourse, signaling that this is not simply a problem to be solved, but a moral and existential inquiry demanding serious reflection.
Language shapes thought, and in this case, it shapes policy, perception, and responsibility. An “issue” or “problem” frames Naga people’s struggle as a mere predicament to be managed or negotiated, something that can be patched with compromises, agreements, or economic incentives. It risks obscuring the deeper reality: the Indo-Naga situation becomes a bureaucratic challenge rather than a profound inquiry into identity, sovereignty, history, and their right to self-determination. It frames decades of struggle, sacrifices, and aspirations as something transactional.
A “question” acknowledges that these are matters of principle, justice, and legitimacy, not just hurdles on a negotiation table. It carries a very different weight. It is philosophical and historical. It demands reflection, acknowledgment, and moral consideration. Calling it a “question” signals that the conflict is not merely about administrative settlements, ceasefire agreements, or territorial boundaries, but also concerns the legitimacy of Naga identity, the recognition of a distinct people, and the right to self-determination. The term recalls other historical conflicts, such as the “Irish Question” or the “Kashmir Question” or the “Question of Palestine” where the problem at hand was not just political but deeply existential for the communities involved.
This linguistic shift carries far-reaching implications. Referring to it as a “question” forces policymakers, mediators, and citizens to treat the matter with seriousness, patience, and sensitivity. It acknowledges that the Naga struggle is not a short-term obstacle to be resolved through expediency. It highlights that the solution must be moral as well as political, rooted in historical justice rather than mere administrative convenience. It also reshapes public discourse, prompting citizens and journalists alike to engage with the conflict as a matter of principle, not just policy.
Ultimately, the words we use matter because they frame the way we think, act, and remember. Naga Land’s future will not be determined merely by ceasefire agreements or economic packages. It will be shaped by how the Indian state and its leaders confront the deeper questions of justice, identity, and belonging. Calling it the Indo-Naga political question is a small but important step toward acknowledging the stakes, the history, and the moral responsibility inherent in resolving one of Asia’s longest-standing conflicts.
