In the hills of Nagaland, Arunachal Pradesh, Assam, Manipur, including Myanmar, identity historically rested at the level of village, clan, and lineage.
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A persistent misunderstanding in debates on ethnicity is the belief that communities are fully formed with fixed names and boundaries. History suggests otherwise. Many identities that seem ancient and settled were once fluid, contested, and sometimes resisted by the people who later embraced them.
This is true in the northeastern region as well
The Mongols were originally a coalition of steppe clans bound by cultural proximity and political circumstances. Leadership, conquest, and state formation solidified their loose confederation into a permanent identity.
Similarly, in the hills of Nagaland, Arunachal Pradesh, Assam, Manipur, including Myanmar, identity historically rested at the level of village, clan, and lineage. Collective names emerged when shared patterns like language families, customary law, and social organisation became relevant to outsiders, colonial administrators, and the modern state.
A similar logic applies closer home
Identity as a process, not an origin; the Naga identity illustrates this.
The many tribes now identified as Naga retained their distinct names and customs but recognised common features like village republicanism, customary governance, and social ethics that distinguished them from neighbouring societies. Colonial classification and missionary networks accelerated this convergence, but the identity endured because it gained internal legitimacy.
Crucially, the Naga identity was negotiated, contested, and eventually owned.
A similar process unfolded among the Mizos
The Lushai and related clans weren’t born “Mizo.” The name gained acceptance gradually as language standardisation, church institutions, and political mobilisation created a shared public sphere. The Mizo identity’s success lay not just in administrative recognition but in offering dignity, cohesion, and a credible political future.
In both cases, identity formation was neither accidental nor cynical. It was a response to historical pressures and political realities.
The Kuki Question: An Unfinished Convergence
The Kuki identity, however, remains unsettled.
Historically, “Kuki” was a broad label for multiple clans across present-day Manipur, Mizoram, Assam, and Myanmar. Many saw it as an external name, while others prioritised clan or sub-tribal affiliations, viewing it as imprecise or negative.
Colonial military encounters and regional rivalries shaped a reputation that portrayed Kukis as nomadic or disruptive. Whether fair or not, these narratives influenced how the name was received both outside and within the community. As a result, the Kuki identity never achieved the level of uniform internal consent that the Naga or Mizo identities did.
The current search among Kuki-related clans for alternative or refined identities should be understood as a struggle over symbolic legitimacy—who gets to name, represent, and speak for whom in a political environment where identity determines access to land, rights, and recognition.
Shared Imagination over Cultural Purity
This is where Benedict Anderson’s idea of nations as “imagined communities” becomes relevant. Anderson didn’t argue that nations are imaginary or false. He argued that they are real because people imagine themselves as belonging to them.
Nation-building doesn’t require cultural homogeneity; it requires a shared vision of belonging and destiny.
This explains the historical choices of smaller tribal communities in the foothills of Imphal valley, like the Kom, Chothe, Aimol, and Chiru. Despite linguistic and cultural affinities with Kuki-related clans, many aligned with the broader Naga identity.
This alignment isn’t just about cultural proximity. It’s political imagination shaped by geography, church networks, history, and perceptions of security and representation. In Anderson’s words, these communities didn’t just identify with their closest neighbours but sought a collective narrative for survival and prosperity.
The Naga political imagination, emphasising village autonomy, customary law, and collective assertion, provided a framework for smaller tribes to protect their interests while retaining distinct identities. Their alignment wasn’t a rejection of cultural ties but a political necessity.
Constructed identities aren’t illegitimate
All ethnic identities are shaped by history, interaction, and power, and none are unchanged from antiquity. However, construction doesn’t imply falsity. Languages, laws, and institutions are also constructed, and no one doubts their reality.
A stable identity is legitimate if people recognise themselves in it, reflects lived realities, and can sustain collective action without erasing internal diversity.
The Naga and Mizo identities evolved through prolonged negotiations. The Kuki identity is in a transitional phase—neither fully established nor entirely abandoned.
Conclusion
There were no original tribes called Mongols, Nagas, Mizos, or Kukis as we understand them today. Instead, there were clans, villages, and kinship networks that gradually merged under shared historical circumstances. Some of these merges stabilised; others remain unresolved.
The quest for identity is not a sign of weakness or opportunism. It signifies communities negotiating their place in a changing political landscape. In Manipur, acknowledging identity as a process rather than a final decision may pave the way for a more honest and inclusive future.
Ngaranmi Shimray
New Delhi