Building the state and conceiving the nation: the origins of separatist insurgency in the Mizo Hills, 1945-61

ABSTRACT

In 1966 the Mizo National Front (MNF) instigated a separatist conflict against the Indian state. This article argues that an environment conducive for separatist insurgency was created by the early 1960s in the Mizo Hills, a direct result of problematic state- and nation- building practices. First, there was an inability to initiate a successful state-building drive to overcome deep-seated challenges bestowed by colonial rule. Second, the friction between regional and national conceptions of identity was not resolved. This argument exploits a clear research gap. Currently there is a convincing explanation for the MNF’s transition towards civil war between 1961-66. Yet, explaining the structural factors which created an environment conducive for separatist conflict remains elusive. This article plugs that gap, through archive-led historical analysis. In the process, it provides wider insights for conflict dynamics in India’s northeast and raises broader questions about interdisciplinary research in the subfield of intrastate conflict.

KEYWORDS:

• Assam
• insurgency
• Mizoram
• civil war
• separatism
• state-building

Introduction

After India’s independence, the sparsely populated Autonomous Hill Districts (AHDs) in Assam’s borderlands presented a problem for the post-colonial state.¹ Colonial power was concentrated in the hands of a small number of officials but rested on the collusion of local elites and the spectre of violence. This method of governance was not viable for a democratic nation-state, a common ‘postcolonial headache’ for newly independent states confronting their borderlands (Leake 2017, 15). Added to this was a clear ideological disconnect between the communities of the AHDs and the ‘valley’, which provided a second conundrum to confront (Scott 2009). This article argues that the civil conflict that emerged in the Mizo Hills – one of Assam’s AHDs – in 1966 must be understood against this backdrop.

The article identifies two critical trajectories that created the origins of separatist insurgency in the Mizo Hills between 1945-61. The first is the practical element of post-colonial state-building. This is the historical process of physically creating state apparatus in a region, from infrastructure to developmental plans and governance apparatus. The colonial state avoided implementing governance structures in Assam’s AHDs, preferring indirect rule lacking day-to-day interference (Rodrigues 2021). After independence, the Indian state aspired to a more viable working model which rested less on the threat of violence. The second trajectory is the ideological aspect of national affinity. Assam’s AHDs lacked connection to the freedom struggle. After 1947, this underpinned a divide between regional identity and Indian nationalism that required resolution. The inability to resolve these two quandaries created an environment with the potential for separatist conflict.

The central argument is that the foundations for conflict were produced through a failure to resolve these two challenges, related to state- and nation- building. This process began as independence loomed and reached its culmination by 1961. It is not possible to understand the civil war instigated by the Mizo National Front (MNF) in 1966 – and the two-decade long insurgency that followed – without this backdrop.² This interpretation compliments recent micro-analytical study of India’s northeast, which has outlined the immediate turn towards conflict from 1961-66. This archive-driven approach provides a layer of context for the broader conflict dynamics of India’s northeast. Simultaneously, it suggests that greater historical analysis may be useful for the subfield of intrastate conflict, currently dominated by the social sciences. Ultimately, this article plugs a clear research gap. Current research can identify the immediate swing towards civil war in the Mizo Hills, but an explanation for why the Mizo Hills was so susceptible to civil war in the first place remains elusive. This explanation is provided here.

Historiography, methodology and data

Until the turn of the century, explanations for the Mizo uprising were problematic. Great-man biographical accounts depicted Laldenga – the leader of the MNF – as a wily Machiavellian figure who outfoxed a beleaguered Assamese Chief Minister (Chatterjee 1994). Others navigated closer to a narration of events (Joshi 2005; Nunthara 1996). Much of the literature inferred that anti-state ethnic grievance was central to unrest. As the paradigm of ‘grievance’ became central to civil war research (Toft 2012) – alongside ‘greed’ (Collier and Hoeffler 2004; Collier, Hoeffler, and Sambanis 2005) – the literature on northeast India followed accordingly. Grievances were identified in inter-ethnic disputes (Chaube 1975; Haokip 2015), ‘hill and valley’ claims to land rights (Bhaumik 2014), and centre-periphery tensions (Vadlamannati 2011). However, the challenge to the grievance-greed dichotomy in the field of intrastate conflict (Fearon and Laitin 2003) led scholars of the northeast to expand their analyses.

From the mid-2000s onwards, the grievance narrative was challenged. M. Sajjad Hassan correctly observed that by following grievance logic alone ‘it would be easy to fall prey to the fallacy that heterogeneous societies are doomed to conflicts and violence’ (Hassan 2008, 10). Hassan argued conflict was explainable through a Weberian state failure model (Hassan 2008, 17–23; Owen and Strong 2004), whilst Sanjib Baruah similarly advanced the literature. Baruah suggested a tripartite methodology, focused on an appreciation of factors such as grievance, alongside state formation and individual agency (Baruah 2014, 12). Such research was pivotal, though Baruah’s tripartite notion is best deployed as an introduction to conflict dynamics rather than offering a concrete explanation for them.

Most recently, an incorporation of the ‘micro-analytical turn’ in intrastate conflict studies has added a further layer of nuance to the historiography (Blattman and Miguel 2010; Cederman and Vogt 2017; Tarrow 2007). The turn built upon a foundation of sociological research that emphasised the importance of pre-existing social networks in understanding factors such as mobilisation (Gould 1991). This led to broader investigations into intrastate conflict (Kalyvas 2006; Parkinson 2013; Weinstein 2007), terrorism (Sageman 2004, 137–174) and genocide (Fujii 2008). A small but growing scholarship on India’s northeast has followed this approach.

Paul Staniland’s argument that pre-war networks can determine rebel group organisation was clearly within the remit of the micro-analytical turn (Staniland 2014). His broader research – especially on Nagaland – produced significant insight for the field (Staniland 2017). For Mizoram, Anoop Sarbahi’s recent contribution is especially important. Sarbahi’s argument credited the cohesion of the MNF and its ability to start conflict to the ‘enhanced structural connectivity’ of Mizo society (Sarbahi 2021). Essentially, Mizo society was particularly well integrated because of the Welsh Presbyterian Mission, which made Christianity a significant force and created a network of connections centred around religion. The argument is compelling, but this article suggests that this micro-analytical assessment of the Mizo civil war must be expanded by providing greater context for the immediate turn towards insurgency.

Sarbahi’s work identifies how a separatist institution manipulated a conducive societal structure to instigate conflict. Less apparent – at least in relation to Mizoram – is how a separatist movement emerged in the first place.³ Further, questions also arise. How did anti-state rhetoric permeate so deeply into the Mizo psyche? Why was the Mizo Hills only the second region in the northeast to witness civil war after independence? What structural factors conditioned the turn towards civil war in the Mizo Hills? The list goes on. These questions require resolution. The permeation of separatist discourse – specifically the strategies utilised by the MNF to make its vision for independence palatable for the local populace – is a particularly pertinent lacuna that requires further research. This, however, is beyond the remit of the current article. Instead, this article is concerned with the final question noted above: the structural factors behind the Mizo uprising. It is a similarly apposite question that remains unresolved. This is the research gap this article exploits.

State-building provides the first pillar to exploit this research gap. The term has gained popularity in international studies as a pathway towards peacebuilding in ‘weak’ states (Concepts and Dilemmas 2009; Shinoda 2018). Here, it is deployed in its more traditional, historic sense (Guyot-Réchard 2013) as the physical production of state apparatus in a region. This approach flips the logic of the international studies methodology, which primarily interrogates how war and violence impact upon state-building (Straus and Waldorf 2011; Thies 2006). Instead, the article analyses how state-building initiatives created the parameters for conflict. Creating state apparatus, building infrastructure and instigating development were difficult tasks in the Mizo Hills. Nonetheless, the protracted, ineffective crawl towards producing state apparatus was a process with its own consequences. The inability to create a functional governance model, to instigate development and to build infrastructure all contributed to a growing realisation within the Mizo Hills about the ineffectiveness of state capacity. The Indian state revealed its own weaknesses as a result, which created scepticism – and later outright hostility – in the Mizo Hills.

The second pillar is the production of national affinity – commonly referred to as ‘nation-building’ – concerned with the creation of a sense of loyalty or identification to the nation-state (Wimmer 2018, 152–53). Traditional ‘modern’ (Anderson 2006; Gellner 1983; Hobsbawm and Ranger 2012) and ‘primordial’ (Lieberman 2021; Smith 2009) conceptions of nationalism have been implicitly state-centric in approach (Storm 2018). Yet, greater sensitivity towards alternate and ‘peripheral’ nationalisms is rising (Gutierrez 2018; Larmer 2020; Larmer and Lecocq 2018). This angle is useful in framing the disconnect between regional (Mizo) identity and pluralistic conceptions of (Indian) nationhood (Chatterjee 1993, 131–66; Jaffrelot 2013; Khilnani 2012, 150–79). Ideological attachment to the nation-state was never static in the Mizo Hills and the development of an increasingly incompatible dichotomy by the early 1960s was a critical process. Against loose designs for nation-building emanating from the centre were the effects of national and regional challenges to ideological unity. The Mizo Hills was particularly affected by these developments, ensuring separatist rhetoric was acutely persuasive.

Together, these two pillars provide the foundation for understanding the origins of conflict in the Mizo Hills. Without problematic state-building and the inability to reconcile regional and national conceptions of identity, a separatist movement would not have arisen. The construction of this argument is based on archival research, in both national and regional collections in India and the UK, rather than the more popular use of datasets or interviews. The archive displays the growing instability in the Mizo Hills, whilst offering an insight into ground-level responses when following staple approaches towards subaltern agents (Carter 2006; Jackson 2015; Stoler 2009). Altogether, what unfolds is an explanation for how the Mizo Hills transitioned from a relatively ‘pedestrian’ colonial border space (Hopkins 2020, 6–7) into a region conducive for conflict between 1945-61.

The Lushai Hills and the end of colonialism, 1945–9

The Second World War was pivotal for the Lushai Hills District of the Assam Province – the forerunner to the Mizo Hills District. Prior to war, Benjamin Hopkins’ notion of ‘frontier governmentality’ is an apt prism to understand governance in Assam’s Excluded and Partially Excluded Areas, which included the Lushai Hills (Hopkins 2020). This was a form of governance that encouraged isolation and ‘quarantined the chaos’ of the borderlands. In turn, it relied on the façade of state power and was enforced through military operations (Holt forthcoming). War unravelled this method of governance.⁴ The result was a power vacuum as independence loomed.

This context is a notable starting point for exploring the origins of the Mizo conflict. As the dated method of colonial rule dissipated, and talk turned towards the future of the subcontinent, two key trends emerged. One was the nature of governance in the Lushai Hills. The other was how the predominantly Mizo population of the region would fit into any post-colonial nation-state formation. The breakdown in the colonial pretence of power was accompanied by the emergence of political institutions in the Lushai Hills, which grappled with these two central concepts. Independence meant the end of colonial coercion, but anxiety about the future was a recurrent theme throughout Assam’s indigenous communities within the Excluded and Partially Excluded Areas. The creation of organisations such as the Assam Tribes and Races Federation displayed the desire to secure a political voice.⁵ Ultimately, however, a conglomerate ‘tribal’ political bloc would be superseded by associations focused on distinct ethnic units.⁶ Naga and Garo institutions emerged, as did Mizo associations in the Lushai Hills.

By 1946 the Lushai Hills were ‘peppered with associations of various kinds and some Lushais seem to look forward to a time when they will be an independent unit – self-contained and self-sufficient.’⁷ This was a rapid change from the pre-war landscape, where political parties were banned and the Young Lushai Association (YLA) was the only institution of note (Pachuau and van Schendel 2015, 246–47). The YLA was a contributory factor in the crystallisation of self-identification under the banner of ‘Mizo’ ethnicity, alongside service in the First World War (Guite 2020) and the influence of Christianity as a uniting force (Roluahpuia 2021, 414–16). Mizo nationalism remained fluid, but a clearer sense of Mizo identity followed the establishment of political institutions.

After the war, Mizo identity was rapidly institutionalised and formed a core element of the newly established political parties: the Mizo Union (MU) and United Mizo Freedom Organisation (UMFO) (Nunthara 1996, 121). Mizo nationalism was not a totally homogenous force in the district. For instance, Pawi-Lakher communities contested this pan-Mizo identity shortly after independence,⁸ through the civil war,⁹ and continue to do so to the present day (Singh 2017, 234). Yet, for the majority of the population, it became a powerful ideological marker. In turn, it became a central component for the nascent political parties (Chatterjee 1994, 15–16; Guha 1984, 62–63; Nunthara 1996, 128–131). The prioritisation of Mizo rights and Mizo autonomy had political traction and became key concepts in political life in the Lushai Hills following independence.

This institutionalisation of identity ran parallel to a clear disconnect from the freedom struggle within Assam’s borderlands. During an Assam Pradesh Congress Committee visit to Mao Naga villages in Manipur, for example, local leaders ‘confessed that they [had] heard the names of Gandhi and Nehru as the great men of India but knew nothing of the Congress or the League.’¹⁰ This was symptomatic of the detachment from the major national organisations who, despite concerted efforts, were unable to enlist recognisable support within the highlands by independence.¹¹ In the Lushai Hills, the Superintendent actively worked to maintain this separation and at one point expelled students that visited the district to encourage Congress support.¹² Therefore, a disconnect from ‘mainstream’ politics accompanied the MU and UMFO prioritisation of Mizo rights.

These two processes enforced a general sense of anxiety about the future, best displayed during the visit of the Bordoloi Sub-Committee to the district in April 1947.¹³ The Sub-Committee was part of the Constituent Assembly, established in early 1947 to ascertain the aspirations of the northeastern hill regions (Bhatia 2018; Zahluna 2010). Reverend Zairema – of the hastily assembled Mizo District Conference – revealed the general mood of apprehension when he stated to the Sub-Committee delegation ‘it seems that you are taking it for granted that we would like to join the Indian Union’ (North-East Frontier Tribal Areas 1947, 5). Zairema followed by questioning whether, despite the cordial nature of the hearing, Mizos were actually ‘free to choose’ their own future. Virtually all were united in the rejection of colonial forms of rule, but what was to follow was far from certain (North-East Frontier Tribal Areas 1947, 28).

Trepidation about the future was the only clear trait of the Mizo District Conference, as it struggled to put together any coherent vision for the future. The representatives of the MU and the chiefs – who formed the core of the UMFO – were clearer in their aspirations. The chiefs were eager to maintain local power structures, which in turn consolidated their position (North-East Frontier Tribal Areas 1947, 21–25). In contestation, the outlook of the MU was increasingly concerned with a desire for change and the inauguration of a ‘democratic system of governance in its purest form’ (North-East Frontier Tribal Areas 1947, 27). To both, the larger political formation which could secure these competing visions were the most appealing in the short-term. Hence, the UMFO veered towards a merger with Burma, whilst the MU viewed independent India as the likeliest route towards democratic governance.¹⁴

An important point to note from the Bordoloi hearings is that the MU and UMFO preferences for India and Burma were premised on the decisive central aim of securing autonomy for the Mizo region. This was displayed during the MU’s session, when Vanthuama stated that ‘we don’t wish to go away from India, but we do not know what the Indian Government will do to us in the future’ (North-East Frontier Tribal Areas 1947, 27–28). As a failsafe, Vanthuama desired a clause which offered a referendum on Indian rule after ten years.¹⁵ This encapsulated the zeitgeist of Mizo elites gathered for the Bordoloi hearings. Support – or contestation – of the nation-state after 1947 was dependent of the efficacy of the post-colonial system. Post-colonial governance had to be beneficial for Mizo rights.

The weight behind the demand for Mizo rights was evident as independence passed, revealing that the politicisation of the district since 1945 was no passing fad. At independence celebrations in Aizawl in August 1947, MU supporters were threatened and not a single Indian tricolour was raised for fear of retaliation (Zorema 2007, 115–16). Although a merger with Burma was never a decision the UMFO would ever have any bearing upon, its delegates wasted no time in travelling across the international border to establish political ties.¹⁶ Tours of agents from Sylhet to the Lushai Hills advocating the cause of East Pakistan only compounded the sense of political unease.¹⁷ This was not an environment for easy discussions about the future, but a critical juncture for securing the prospects of the Mizo populace.

The unrest that emerged around independence persisted until 1949. Across the south of the District, the MU intensified its propaganda campaign to hasten changes to the colonial administrative apparatus that was temporarily maintained after August 1947.¹⁸ By late 1948, the unrest reached such proportions that district police were unable to effectively monitor political demonstrations.¹⁹ The lack of control was revealed when the entire police force of Lungleh was dispatched to the village of Kikawn to stipulate rules on MU processions.²⁰ The warnings were ignored and an MU procession advanced to Lungleh anyway, despite the protestations of state officials. Regional stability was expendable in the short-term for MU supporters, but the demand for securing Mizo autonomy was not.

Rioting was evident by the close of 1948 and into 1949. This resulted in fifty-four patients being submitted to the hospital in Lungleh with varying degrees of injuries.²¹ It would take until the spring of 1949 to restore a modicum of calm. On the one hand this involved the deployment of Assam Rifles personnel for security measures.²² On the other, the departure of the Superintendent – who symbolised the ghost of colonial rule and whose retention embodied an inability to initiate change in the district – was significant (Zorema 2007, 162). By May 1949, the worst of the unrest had passed, and the replacement Superintendent was praised for his efforts by the Assam Governor’s office.²³ Yet, the turbulence following independence was revealing.

The unrest in the Lushai Hills was not unique, nor particularly intense when compared to episodes elsewhere in India, such as the ‘Police Action’ in Hyderabad (Purushotham 2015; Sherman 2007). What it did reveal, however, was the politicisation of the district and the seriousness with which citizens viewed questions about autonomy, change and the future. Anxieties about what life within the Indian nation-state would entail were clear, and a viable post-colonial model was required to ensure Mizo rights and assuage ground-level aspirations for autonomy. The timeframe from 1945-49, therefore, embedded a sense of Mizo identity and revealed the seriousness of the need for positive change in the district. These were critical issues that the post-colonial state would need to resolve.

Teething issues and the false Dawn, 1949–54

The central and provincial governments were, to a degree, aware of the challenges within Assam’s borderlands after independence. The district council model, a flagship undertaking for state- and nation- building aspirations at the centre, displayed initial signs of optimism in the Lushai Hills. It was, though, a false dawn. Instead, the model’s limitations and the issues faced in developing infrastructure and creating state apparatus signalled notable teething problems by 1954.

The Lushai Hills were styled as an AHD within the Assam State after independence. Its designation as a part of Assam but with a certain aloofness from the Assam Legislative Assembly mirrored the colonial creation of the Excluded Areas. But, where colonial rule placed power in the hands of an appointed official, the Lushai Hills would have a more democratic outlook with the implementation of the Mizo District Council (MDC), enabled by the Sixth Schedule of the Constitution. The importance of this district council system was best articulated in Nehru’s correspondence with Assam’s Tribal Areas Department:

The PM [Nehru] was very anxious that the District Council should be given every opportunity to make a good start. He enquired about the financial position of their bodies, and stressed the importance of loans and subventions to them in the beginning … The PM was anxious that everything possible should be done to convince the Tribal people that [the] Government were serious about making the district autonomy scheme a success. The failure of the scheme, whatever the reasons might be, might result in the most serious repercussions.²⁴

Nehru clearly identified that successful state- and nation- building in the AHDs was intertwined with the efficacy of the district councils. It was a central tenet of the centre’s northeastern policy.

The MDC was inaugurated in 1952. It had control over certain areas of local legislation, taxation, justice, and education. Whilst the early post-colonial state geared towards centralised efforts to address broad socio-economic objectives, the MDC provided a mechanism for ground-level change. Votership determined the composition of the MDC. Through the elections in the early 1950s – to both the MDC and the Assam Legislative Assembly – the MU emerged as the dominant political force in the Lushai Hills. In the Assam Legislative Assembly three seats were reserved for the district. The MU won all three in emphatic style (Statistical Report 1951, 7). This success was followed by a similarly decisive showing at the district council elections of April 1952. Of the twenty-four seats in the MDC, eighteen were contested by a vote and the MU won seventeen (Hassan 2014, 218). It was the MU, therefore, that utilised the powers of the MDC.

In a legislative sense, the MU achieved notable successes. It successfully overturned prevailing power structures in the Lushai Hills, relinquishing the stranglehold the chiefs enjoyed at local level. The British ruled through a Superintendent, but his authority was predicated on collusion with the chiefs as middlemen. The hereditary chiefship system dictated pre-colonial power relations and the British tapped into these structures (Chatterjee 1995, 4–20). This in turn solidified the role of the chiefs in local governance. The MU utilised the district council model to overturn this reality.

From 1953 the power the chiefs previously held was crushed. New local regulations were necessary for change and the MU implemented a fundamental shift in a short space of time. These came first with the reduction on the annual tax owed to chiefs on paddy, the staple source of diet in the district (Joshi 2005, 35–6). This was followed by further modifications to taxation and rules related to hunting, honey and salt (Nunthara 1996, 134–5). The implementation of the Acquisition of Chiefs’ Rights Act provided the ultimate repudiation of the power structures colonialism consolidated.²⁵ Henceforth local administration would be enacted by village councils, a democratic process to undo the hereditary system that preceded it.

It would be easy to judge the MDC’s legislative revolution as an unequivocal success. The so-called Pataskar Report (Mukerjee 1969) – produced to assess the effectiveness of the district councils – later reflected that the MDC was the sole council to make substantial progress in legislative reform.²⁶ This was a false dawn, an anomalous success story in an otherwise inauspicious history for the district councils (Karlsson 2011). Beyond legal changes, the powers of the MDC were limited. It is notable that the Pataskar Report was less complimentary about district council performance in other areas, highlighting the widespread criticism they received internally.²⁷ Public opinion in the AHDs suggested the councils were ineffective if the ‘antipathy’ of the provincial government remained.²⁸ The reflections of the Pataskar Report touched upon a more general point; the power of the councils was limited, and this was particularly clear in relation to state-building and developmental practices.

The MDC, for example, was unable to remedy many of the problems created by Partition. The creation of international boundaries meant the Lushai Hills became one of the most remote regions of India. This remoteness created challenges, from communications to transport and supply.²⁹ The production of borders to the west, south and east meant that state-building initiatives – including the creation of infrastructure and governance institutions – were particularly critical. It was noted how ‘the Lushai Hills … is practically cut off from the rest of India throughout the rainy season, as the bridle track which links [Aizawl] with Silchar … becomes too slippery and risky for vehicular traffic.’³⁰ This resulted in supply problems and the price of commodities such as salt and kerosene oil skyrocketed because of their scarcity.³¹ These were critical issues, but ones that exceeded the mandate of the MDC. They were challenges for the provincial government to resolve.

Road-building designs in the Lushai Hills revealed the friction within India’s layered federal system that curtailed successful state-building. Funding was granted from the centre for the construction of the Silchar-Aizawl Road, which led the Assamese government to earmark a sum of Rs. 4.97 Lakhs for the project.³² But the centre’s subsequent reduction of finances created a problem for the provincial government. The Assamese administration had undertaken a ‘good amount of publicity’ – according to Chief Minister Bishnuram Medhi – in the Lushai Hills to promote the road-building initiative.³³ But the funding debates that followed, and the delays to the project they created, raised questions about the dependability and sincerity of the provincial administration. The promises made in the Lushai Hills were a point Medhi was particularly concerned about, considering the ‘small section among the Lushais which feels that economically it would have been better for them had their district been a part of Burma’.³⁴

The ground-level response is detectable in the archive. The Silchar-Aizawl Road was only the first part of a broader plan which also aimed to connect Aizawl with the biggest settlement in the south of the district at Lungleh. The initial delays meant further interruptions to the Aizawl-Lungleh section, but on the ground Mizo communities took matters into their own hands. As Medhi wrote, in a ‘commendable effort to help themselves the Lushais had started constructing a jeep track from [Aizawl] to Lungleh through their own voluntary free labour, and nearly 12 miles of the track [has] been completed … ’.³⁵ With friction between central and provincial governments obstructing the efficiency of the road-building project, the ground-level response was to forge ahead regardless. This was an indicator of the lack of faith such communities felt in the provincial government, in addition to the self-ascribed autonomy certain Mizo villages operated under.

Considering the breadth of challenges faced by the state around and after independence, in Assam and elsewhere, judging post-colonial effectiveness through an ineffective road-building project would be somewhat harsh.³⁶ The problem, however, was that this inefficiency became a staple of state-building practices throughout the 1950s, from grand projects to the most basic plans. An example of the latter is evident in the designs to confront communication issues in the district from 1952-53. Proposals for a contingency plan to retain contact between Aizawl and Lungleh in the event of an emergency were put forward by the Lushai Hills’ Deputy Commissioner. Six bicycles were required, three for each settlement, to be used by trained cycle runners in case communications broke down and urgent correspondence was needed.³⁷ It was a reasonable contingency plan, but the breakdown of the scheme reflected the inefficiency that increasingly defined state practice.

Almost three months after the proposals were submitted, the provincial government declared no expenses could be spared.³⁸ When the Deputy Inspector General of Police for Assam gave his support for the scheme – around two and a half months later – the issue of funding was once more raised.³⁹ Finally, in mid-February 1953, around six and a half months after the original proposal, the regional administration rejected the proposals as ‘of very little use in a Hill District like [the] Lushai Hills’.⁴⁰ The department felt that district police could carry out the plans if communications failed, a direct contradiction of the assessments made by the Deputy Commissioner and the Deputy Inspector General of Police .⁴¹

The funding for six bicycles may seem trivial for understanding state-building practices and conflict dynamics. However, the episode revealed the ubiquitously disjointed effort to produce state apparatus in the district. From top to bottom the efforts of post-colonial state-building were plagued by inefficiency. Further corroboration of this point was evident in various guises, such as the lack of security and policing for even the most basic tasks.⁴² By 1954 this was not a terminal issue, even if reports of ‘quite a number of Lushais’ migrating to Burma for greater prospects in employment were worrisome.⁴³ But it did signify the protracted, problematic crawl towards an effective post-colonial model underway in the Lushai Hills. The inefficiency of state-building practices undercut the false dawn indicated by the legislative successes of the MDC. From the mid-1950s onwards, this reality would be increasingly contested in the district, whilst countrywide ideological challenges to national unity were acutely felt in the Lushai Hills.

The limitations of state-building and challenges to national identity, 1954–9

The Lushai Hills District was officially renamed the Mizo Hills District (MHD) in 1954, the same year that the MDC reached its peak in legislative reform.⁴⁴ From 1954 onwards, the limitations of post-colonial state-building became increasingly clear to the citizens of the MHD. This was compounded by the impact of nation-wide calls for changes to India’s federal structure, which reignited appeals for Mizo rights and contributed to a growing clamour for change in the district. By the close of the decade, these twin processes produced an identifiable critique of the post-colonial vision for the MHD.

The obstacles for state-building in the MHD were often waved away by senior Assamese politicians eager to blame British rule for the challenges in Assam’s borderlands.⁴⁵ It is undeniable that colonial rule created significant long-term challenges for the state. Yet, this rhetoric was often employed to divert attention from the provincial government’s own contribution to stagnation in the district. In this vein, the budget disputes in 1954–55 were indicative. The MDC created a forecast to kick-start the laborious development drive and expected significant grants, something the provincial government balked at.⁴⁶ The result was a considerable reduction in funding available to the MDC. This created questions about the sincerity of the Assamese government to develop the MHD as several MDC members were noted to be ‘harbouring a feeling of resentment’ about the decision.⁴⁷ Rather than a simple anti-state grievance discourse, this resentment was part of an evolving recognition that the post-colonial vision for the MHD was flawed.

The lax infrastructural drive and ineffectiveness in bridging challenges in supply and communications enforced the stagnation evident as the 1950s progressed. Lack of infrastructure meant a constant need for subsidisation. Food prices were disproportionately high, a direct result of supply problems. Industry was virtually non-existent (Pakyntein 1965b), despite the emphasis on industrial growth in the second five-year-plan (Patnaik 2015). The prospects for improving public health facilities were bleak and before 1960 there was never more than twelve doctors stationed in the district (Hluna and Tochhawng 2013, xvi). In education, a similar story was apparent, whilst the agricultural sector displayed arguably the greatest indication of inertia. Agriculture accounted for eighty-seven per cent of the district’s workforce – male and female – according to the 1961 census (Pakyntein 1965b, 69–70). Despite plans to transition towards modern, fixed farming methods, the assessment by the close of the decade suggested ‘tangible results are difficult to be achieved. On the whole, not much change has been made’ (Pakyntein 1965b, 14). Altogether, a district-wide milieu of stasis was evident.

Reflecting on the 1950s, the Mizo District Census Handbook provided a damning assessment of the MHD. The district was noted to be ‘very poor, if not the poorest among the districts of the [Assam] state’ (Pakyntein 1965b, 13). This was no mean feat considering the stagnation across the AHDs and the issues Assam faced in comparative national perspective (Sarma 1966). Also noteworthy was the deteriorating perception of the MU in local politics. In 1955, it sought to establish preferential treatment for its members in the village councils by securing grants of land – ideal for cultivation – in return for service. Crucially, this land ownership would then become hereditary (Nunthara 1996, 157). The initiative was met with immediate controversy. The hereditary nature of proposals directly mirrored the chiefship model the MDC had overthrown in the legislative changes of 1952-54. Such missteps undermined the reputation of the MU, as did growing accusations of corruption (Lalrintluanga 2008, 56). The developing mistrust of internal politics only added to the public scepticism about post-colonial state-building.

The public response to these dynamics was evident at the ballot box, in the 1957 elections. At state-level, the MU lost both the Aizawl East and Lungleh constituencies. The former was especially startling, considering the decisive margin of victory attained by the MU candidate in 1952 (Statistical Report 1957, 4–104). Overall, this was a sizeable turnaround from the 76.24 per cent voter share attained five years before. Similar, though less dramatic, changes were also evident at the elections for the MDC (Hassan 2014, 218). In both elections, it was the UMFO that benefitted. The UMFO’s success was premised on changing attitudes within the district, that evolved in line with national trends. The UMFO positioned itself as a supporter of political change, exploiting this atmosphere for political gain.

The UMFO victories built from the fallout of India’s linguistic reorganisation of 1956. Reorganisation was a reaction against the ‘imprint’ of British rule lingering in India’s federal structure after independence (Tillin 2013, 29–31). The old colonial map had provided the basis for India’s new states after 1947. The challenge to this status quo intensified after Potti Sriramulu’s death, campaigning for a Telugu speaking polity separate from the Madras state (Guha 2008, 180–200). Apprehensions existed in the central government about modifying regional units, lest they threaten national unity and nation-building aspirations (Zachariah 2004, 206–12). But resistance at the centre thawed with the acceleration of demands and in late 1953 Nehru declared before Parliament that a commission would be established to conduct research into potential changes (Report of the States 1955, i). The States Reorganisation Commission (SRC) was founded the following year. As the calls for linguistic reorganisation developed, the loose designs for pluralistic conceptions of Indian nationhood were challenged in the MHD. Heightened calls for Mizo autonomy paved the way for the UMFO’s 1957 successes.

The establishment of the SRC had notable effect throughout Assam’s AHDs and in 1954 the India Tribal Union (EITU) was established (Bodhi 2021). In early October 1954 the demand for a hill state separate from Assam was first articulated.⁴⁸ The MU remained aloof from the movement, though contact between the two was common, whilst the UMFO supported the EITU from the outset.⁴⁹ The movement for linguistic reorganisation provided an opportunity – in the AHDs – for changes to an underwhelming post-colonial model. Two years after the foundation of the SRC, substantial changes were made to India’s federal framework, the start of a series of ongoing ethnofederal adaptations (Adeney 2017; Godsmark 2018). The northeast, however, was not directly affected by these changes.

The indirect effects of linguistic reorganisation were important for the MHD. Contrasting ideas about the EITU movement were notable, but the SRC’s report and its fallout were critical. Though there was never a suggestion the MHD could form a separate polity, despite the dominance of the Mizo language in the district (Pakyntein 1965a, 74–89), the rejection of the hill state proposals reflected the dominance of paternalistic thought in official circles towards Assam’s borderlands.⁵⁰ The SRC concluded that any pan-‘tribal’ demand was more of a ‘psychological’ than political problem and beyond their remit, whilst stating that ‘the creation of a new hill state will … in the long run [work] against the interests of the scheduled tribes’ (Report of the States 1955, 185–86). The contestation of the post-colonial model for the borderlands was developing but the consistent, paternalistic discourse from above clung to the narrative that indigenous communities were best kept within the Assam state.

It is this context that underpinned the 1957 election results in the MHD. The UMFO successes indicated a growing scepticism towards the post-colonial model for the MHD, enforced by lax state-building practices and developing critiques about how regional identity was accommodated in India’s federal structure. Importantly, this scepticism did not follow with demands for separation from the Indian state around 1957. Rather, it was part of a broader cynicism evident across the AHDs. The results were evident as the EITU won ten of the fifteen seats it contested in the Assam Legislative Assembly in 1957 (Dommen 1967, 729–30). But this air of scepticism provided the parameters for the shift towards separatist rhetoric, which unfolded in a short timeframe between 1959-61.

Although a pluralistic attachment to Indian nationhood was never embraced in the MHD, it was never vehemently rejected either before the close of the 1950s. It was an awkward ideological fit, but not a case of outright contestation. Similarly, the problems related to state-building were met with scepticism, but not outright hostility. However, as the decade wound to a close, two acute crises effectively revealed the ramifications of these problematic processes. These crises were intimately related to ineffective state- and nation- building and ensured the transition towards an environment conducive for conflict by the early 1960s.

Framing the ‘triggers’ of civil conflict: famine and the Assam Language Act, 1959–61

Two events are identified as proximate causes for the Mizo uprising: famine and the Assam Language Act (ALA) (Behera 2015, 235–6; Das 2007, 35–42; Goswami 2015, 104–6; Mukherjee 2005, 49–52). Sarbahi neatly referred to the former as a ‘trigger’ for conflict (Sarbahi 2021, 99). These triggers are best understood within the processes of state- and nation- building. Both events were key because of their relationship to these two trajectories. Famine occurred because of the ineffective state-building drive. The ALA was so contentious because it was perceived as a threat to Mizo identity. Their synchronous unfolding transitioned a general scepticism about the post-colonial vision for the MHD into outright hostility. This resulted in an environment conducive for separatist conflict.

Both events were the culmination of processes a decade and a half in the making. The widespread destruction caused by famine was the ultimate manifestation of failed state-building practices. The devastation was a direct consequence of the inability to resolve issues in supply, infrastructure and development extant since independence. Similarly, the implementation of the ALA in 1960 embodied the failure to resolve the tension between regional and national conceptions of identity. Until the close of the 1950s, regional identity was not necessarily anti-state in nature. But the passing of the ALA was understood as an act of cultural aggression, a threat to the very essence of Mizo identity. Hence, tension between Mizo identity and broader identity formations became antagonistic, as the latter now seemingly threatened the former. Together, both triggers, understood as the embodiment of failed state- and nation- building practices, produced conditions in the MHD which were favourable for insurgency.

The famine of 1959–61 – known locally as Mautam – involved the flowering of bamboo plants, which heralded a surge in the rat population that in turn posed a huge threat to grain stores (Lintner 2016, 104–6). Without effective planning, the results could be catastrophic, as in the early 1880s (Nag 1999). Because the cycles of Thing and Mau – the two major varieties of bamboo – occur roughly every thirty and fifty years, the famine was predicted locally. But warnings from Mizo citizens were waved away by Assamese politicians as mere superstition (Lintner 2016, 105). The ensuing devastation that followed was a clear indicator of the failure of the state-building drive in the district.

The contestation over where power resided in the MHD curtailed the effectiveness of relief efforts. As famine raged, disputes between the MDC and the Mizo Deputy Commissioner emerged in various guises.⁵¹ The limited powers of the MDC meant it lacked the ability to confront famine internally. Additionally, it had insufficient clout to be able to rouse aid from the Assamese government. By the time funds were sanctioned to combat the crisis, to the tune of Rs. 2 Lakhs famine was already raging.⁵² Though Mautam showed clear danger signs at an early stage, the ineffective governance model for the district was cumbersome in securing aid, let alone providing any comprehensive plan to alleviate the most severe problems.

The famine was a disaster; rice shortages led to poverty and death. Concrete estimates about casualties are difficult, but Joy L. K. Pachuau estimated around five per cent of the population lost their lives (Pachuau and van Schendel 2015, 300). Pachuau’s estimate would equate to over 13,000 deaths.⁵³ The supply issues evident since Partition were a critical factor. An inability to provide relief produced a noticeable spike in crime as civilians resorted to pilfering government-owned rice stores to feed families.⁵⁴ Problematic infrastructural expansion and stagnating development plans were similarly impactful, as the remote nature of settlements beyond the major towns proved to be a further unsolvable challenge.⁵⁵ Ultimately, state-building and governance initiatives enabled the devastation, and this widespread trauma proved to be a key factor in the origins of the Mizo civil war.

The implementation of the ALA during the peak of the famine hit particularly hard. The Act aimed to make Assamese the mandatory language throughout the state. Pursued by institutions such as the Asom Sahitya Sabha, it was primarily concerned with the preservation of Assamese culture (Misra 2014, 337–8). Its specifics were not as draconian as often portrayed, but it sent a distinct message of cultural hegemony at the worst possible time. The ‘Assamisation’ of the state was seen to be underway (Ali 1996, 49), despite apprehensions at the centre about its detrimental effects for nation-building aspirations.⁵⁶ Across the state, the response was immediate and emphatic. A conference was held by Bengali speakers at Silchar on 3 July 1960 to voice their discontent.⁵⁷ A few days later a meeting was held in Shillong, where influential elites from the AHDs voiced similar trepidations about Assamese hegemony.⁵⁸ The Shillong meeting led to the creation of the All-Party Hill Leaders Conference (APHLC), an organisation that evolved out of the EITU but enjoyed greater popularity and clout (Dommen 1967, 730).

The APHLC brought the central government to the negotiating table,⁵⁹ eventually paving the way for the creation of the state of Meghalaya.⁶⁰ For this article’s purposes, the APHLC’s impact in the MHD is most relevant. An increasingly threatening tone was noted by Assam’s Chief Minister in the ground-level support for APHLC demands.⁶¹ The MHD was no exception and large anti-state street protests occurred (Pachuau and van Schendel 2015, 303), which continued even as the worst of Mautam receded.⁶² Although the MU reversed its previous apprehensions about the hill state movement and threw its weight behind the APHLC (Nunthara 1996, 132–133), this support was short-lived.

The APHLC soon revealed the limits of its desire for pursuing change, preferring to work within democratic structures to negotiate a path towards statehood, demonstrated in its support for the government during the Sino-Indian War of 1962.⁶³ In the MHD – and against the backdrop of famine – negotiation and democratic procedure were not popular concepts and support for the Indian government was negligible.⁶⁴ The MU dropped its support for the APHLC whilst the growing anxiety of Assamese officials reflected the evolving volatility of the Mizo Hills.⁶⁵ Change was necessary, and non-negotiable. The idea that this might mean a future outside the Indian state gained traction. During famine, a relief organisation was born, named the Mizo National Famine Front. The popularity it attained motivated its transformation into a political institution. It dropped the word ‘famine’ and restyled itself as the MNF in October 1961 (Goswami 2009, 581). The MNF pioneered separatist discourse to a public now susceptible to this rhetorical appeal.

At this point the micro-analytical interpretation of the Mizo uprising takes precedence. In its conversion from famine relief organisation to civil war instigator, the MNF tapped into the well-coordinated grassroots networks of the MHD, as suggested by Sarbahi. The traces of this popularity, cohesion and permeation into Mizo society is corroborated by archival evidence.⁶⁶ Additionally, the electoral successes the MNF at the 1963 by-elections were notable, as was the ability to establish contacts in East Pakistan to build an arsenal and fighting force (Panwar 2017, 980).⁶⁷ Increasingly, state officials began to draw parallels between Mizo separatists and Naga ‘hostiles’ and – after the MNF unleashed Operation Jericho in 1966 – the battle lines were blatantly drawn.⁶⁸ But to understand how the conditions arose for this transition towards civil war, the context provided in this article is crucial.

Without the arduous development of state- and nation- building practices after independence, any separatist organisation would have struggled to gain traction in the MHD prior to famine and the passing of the ALA, no matter how internally cohesive society was. But these ‘triggers’ were the culmination of processes a decade and a half in the making. They were the culmination of an inability to secure a viable post-colonial model for the MHD. In a practical sense, the state-building drive had failed. Ideologically, the chasm between Mizo identity and Indian nationalism was framed in bellicose terms. This provided the critical context for the rise of the MNF. The civil war the MNF instigated in 1966, therefore, was made possible by the trajectories identified in this article, between 1945-61.

Conclusion

Nehru was right when he predicted – in the quote provided above – that the failure of the district council model ‘might result in the most serious repercussions’ for the MHD.⁶⁹ For Nehru, the district councils were a key initiative for resolving the practical and ideological issues faced in Assam’s AHDs during decolonisation. The ineffectiveness of the councils was part of broader, problematic state- and nation- building practices in the MHD that produced a region conducive for conflict by the early 1960s. The result was civil war from 1966-86.

Reflecting on the production of an environment conducive for separatist insurgency provides two notable conclusions. The first concerns the ‘insurgency environment’ of the northeast (Cline 2006). As Bhagat Oinam and Dhiren A. Sadokpam have suggested, the framing of the northeast as a ‘unique’ region of ‘exceptionality’ clouds the ability to critically analyse conflict dynamics which appear to be extraordinary (Oinam and Sadokpam 2018, 5). This creates assumptive misnomers for research, but also reflects a teleological fallacy about the region. Just because there has been a peculiar amalgamation of conflict dynamics and instability in the northeast in the past four decades does not mean this was always the case. This environment was produced, and the history of the MHD offers valuable insight in this regard. Rather than disregarding the northeast as an exceptional space, a more pertinent research agenda would involve greater interrogation of the region’s historical development.

The second notable conclusion relates to the broader study of civil conflict and violence. The subfield of intrastate conflict research is one dominated by the social sciences, and although some researchers are particularly sensitive to historical developments, there is greater room for interdisciplinary approaches to conflict. Processes such as state- and nation- building are vital in certain contexts for understanding how civil war is possible. But the Mizo case study provides a useful starting point for considering other historical processes that have contributed to the production of regions susceptible to conflict. In turn, historians can benefit from greater utilisation of the paradigms established by social scientists that condition current civil war research. Altogether, greater collaboration across disciplines can only strengthen what is already a burgeoning field.

Acknowledgements

The author would like to thank the White Rose College of the Arts and Humanities Doctoral Training Programme for providing funding for various archival research trips to India. The author is especially indebted to Professor William Gould, for his valuable feedback during the drafting process of the article, and the helpful comments provided by the two anonymous reviewers. Any remaining errors or inconsistencies remain solely those of the author.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Additional information

Notes on contributors

Benjamin Holt

Benjamin Holt is an AHRC-funded doctoral researcher based at the University of Leeds. His project focuses on the evolution of conflict dynamics and separatism in India’s northeastern borderlands in the first three decades after independence.

Notes

1 The hyphenated term ‘post-colonial’ is used in its literal sense throughout this article, rather than its theoretical semblance, which is traditionally presented as the unbroken ‘postcolonial’. See Gandhi 1998, 3–4.

2 The Mizo civil war began in 1966, a ‘territorial’ conflict where a rebel group aimed for secession from the Indian Union with notable casualties (Sambanis 2004). In the Mizo Hills, there was a clear shift towards insurgency. After the Indian Army established a degree of relative control by the close of March 1966, the MNF moved towards a more conventional insurgency campaign (Mackinlay 2007, 12; Nagl 2005, 15–25). A report produced at the end of June 1966 – and circulated among Indian officials – outlined this shift most succinctly. It noted how the MNF adopted a ‘policy of confronting the Government’ whilst ‘attempting to paralyze its functions rather than rely on military action’. This was due to a growing realisation that they were fighting a ‘losing battle’. The state responded with a concerted counterinsurgency strategy, codenamed Operation Security. See, Aizawl, Mizoram State Archives (hereafter MSA) G/1399/115. Note on the present situation in the MHD, 30 June 1966; MSA G/1509/125. Deputy Commissioner, MHD to Secretary, DSS&A Board, 22 May 1967.

3 It should be noted that Sarbahi is not deaf to historical factors. For example, he has been keen to stress the variations for rebel groups that can derive from the strength of pre-existing political parties (Sarbahi 2014).

4 London, British Library (hereafter BL) IOR/L/PJ/5/135. A.G. Clow to Lord Linlithgow, ‘Report for Assam for the second half of September 1942’, 2 October 1942.

5 BL IOR/L/PJ/5/138. Fortnightly report for Assam for the second half of January 1945; A.G. Clow to Sir John Colville, 19 April 1945.

6 BL IOR/L/PJ/5/139. Fortnightly Report for Assam for the second half of June 1946; BL IOR/L/PS/13/1005. Fortnightly report on states for the first half of August 1942.

7 BL IOR/L/PJ 5/139. F.C. Bourne to Lord Wavell, 23 August 1946.

8 MSA G/717/CB58. S. Das to S. Barkataki, 5 June 1949.

9 Guwahati, Assam State Archives (hereafter ASA) CMS/11/67. Minutes of the Pawi-Laker Regional Council Budget Session, May 1967.

10 BL IOR/L/PS/13/1005. Fortnightly report on states for the latter half of November 1946.

11 BL IOR/L/PJ/5/138. Fortnightly report for Assam for the first half of October 1945; Fortnightly report for Assam for the first half of November 1944; BL IOR/L/PJ/5/139. Fortnightly report for Assam for the first half of September 1946; Fortnightly report for Assam for the first half of October 1946.

12 BL IOR/L/PJ/5/140. A.G. Clow to Lord Mountbatten, 19 April 1947.

13 Officially titled the North-East Frontier Tribal Areas and Assam Excluded & Partially Excluded Areas Sub-Committee.

14 MSA G/717/58. Y.D. Gundevia to S. Dutt, 9 February 1948.

15 Mirroring the ‘Nine-Point Agreement’ in the Naga Hills. See Naga-Akbar Hydari Accord, Kohima, 26–8 June 1947 in Nuh and Lasuh 2016, 119–21.

16 MSA G/717/CB/58. L.L. Peters to G.E.D. Walker, 27 March 1948.

17 MSA G/717/CB/58. Office of the Governor of Assam to L.L. Peters, 25 September 1948.

18 MSA G/717/CB/58. L.L. Peters to G.E.D. Walker, 4 March 1948.

19 MSA G/1451/CB/120. Hranglura to Sub-Divisional Officer, Lungleh, 15 January 1949.

20 Ibid.

21 MSA G/1451/CB/120. H. Sen to Sub-Divisional Officer, Lungleh, 16 January 1949.

22 MSA G/1451/CB/120. Lt-Col Commandant, 1st Bn. ARs to Debsing Chetri, 24 January 1949.

23 MSA G/717/58. N.K. Rustomji to S. Barkataki, 16 May 1949.

24 ASA PS/164/1952. Secretary, Tribal Areas Department to Bishnuram Medhi, 9 June 1952.

25 Bhopal, The National Archives of India, Regional Office, ‘Assam Act XXI of 1954: The Assam Lushai Hills District (Acquisition of Chiefs’ Rights) Act, 1954’, The Assam Gazette, 30 June 1954.

26 London, The National Archives (Hereafter TNA UK) DO/196/238. Report of the Commission on the Hill Areas of Assam, 1965–66 (New Delhi: Ministry of Home Affairs, 1966), p. 65.

27 Ibid, pp. 65-67.

28 Ibid, pp. 29-30.

29 ASA PS/175/50. Bishnuram Medhi to Vallabhbhai Patel, 1 November 1950.

30 ASA PS/175/50. Meeting Notes, ‘Development schemes for the Autonomous District’, 22 October 1950.

31 MSA G/1024/CB/84. Memo No C29/52/131, 26 August 1952.

32 ASA PS/175/50. Meeting Notes, ‘Development schemes for the Autonomous District’, 22 October 1950.

33 ASA PS/175/50. Bishnuram Medhi to Vallabhbhai Patel, 15 October 1950.

34 ASA PS/175/50. Bishnuram Medhi to Vallabhbhai Patel, 1 November 1950.

35 Ibid.

36 BL IOR/L/PJ/5/140. Fortnightly report for Assam for the second half of April 1947; A.G. Clow to Lord Mountbatten, 2 May 1947.

37 ASA TAD/CON/85/52. Deputy Commissioner, Lushai Hills to Secretary, Tribal Areas & Development Department, 1 August 1952.

38 ASA TAD/CON/85/52. Deputy Commissioner, Lushai Hills to Secretary, Tribal Areas & Development Department, 27 October 1952.

39 ASA TAD/CON/85/52. D.C. Dutt to Rana K.D.N. Singh, 7 January 1953.

40 ASA TAD/CON/85/52. Rana K.D.N. Singh to Deputy Commissioner, Lushai Hills, 18 February 1953.

41 Ibid.

42 ASA TAD/PL/54/53. R.C. Dutt to the Secretary, Tribal Areas & Development Department, 24 September 1953.

43 ASA PS/221/52.II. S.M. Dutt to P.V. Bhaskaran, 24 July 1953.

44 Act No. XVIII of 1954, ‘The Lushai Hills District (Change of Name) Act, 1954’.

45 ASA CMS/287/A/55. Bishnuram Medhi to Jairamdas Doulatram, ‘Extract from S.I.B. Report dated 16 November 1954’, 23 May 1955.

46 ASA CMS/287/A/55. Bishnuram Medhi to Jairamdas Doulatram, ‘A brief note on the demand for a separate Hills State’, 23 May 1955, pp. 5-6.

47 Ibid.

48 ASA CMS/287/A/55. Bishnuram Medhi to Jairamdas Doulatram, ‘Psychological Background of the Demand for a Hill State’, 23 May 1955.

49 Ibid.

50 Approximately seventy-nine per cent of the population spoke Mizo as their primary language.

51 ASA HMI/27/60. J.C. Nampui to Joint Secretary, Home Department, 7 March 1960; R.B. Vaghaiwalla to Deputy Commissioner, MHD, 30 May 1960.

52 MSA G/1224/CB/101. L.S. Ingty, ‘Relief Schemes approved by the Deputy Commissioner’, 9 March 1960.

53 The population of the MHD in 1961 was 266,063.

54 ASA HPL/275/60. N.N. Narzari, ‘Mizo District S.R. Case No. 2/60’, 15 March 1960.

55 This was an ongoing challenge that would later plague Indian security forces after civil war began. See

MSA G/1496/124. Population of Voluntary Grouping.

56 ASA CMS/20/1960. Jawaharlal Nehru to Bimalaprosad Chaliha, 29 June 1960.

57 TNA UK/DO/196/48. Malcolm MacDonald to Commonwealth Relations Office, ‘India: Disturbances in Assam’, 17 October 1960.

58 Ibid.

59 ASA CMS/Nil/1962. Bimalaprosad Chaliha to Jawaharlal Nehru, 3 August 1961.

60 Act No. LV of 1969, ‘The Assam Reorganization (Meghalaya) Act’.

61 ASA CMS/Nil/1962. Bimalaprosad Chaliha to Jawaharlal Nehru, 3 August 1961; Bimalaprosad Chaliha to General Shrinagesh, 28 April 1962.

62 ASA CMS/Nil/1962. Bimalaprosad Chaliha to General Shrinagesh, 28 April 1962.

63 ASA CMS/258/62. G.G. Swell to Jawaharlal Nehru, 25 October 1962.

64 ASA CMS/258/62. Resolution passed in the All-Party Hill Leaders’ Conference held in the Circuit House, Gauhati on 31 October 1962.

65 ASA CMS/Nil/1962. S. M. Shrinagesh to Bimalaprosad Chaliha, 19 May 1962.

66 ASA CMS/79/62. Bimalaprosad Chaliha to Jawaharlal Nehru, 24 July 1962.

67 ASA CMS/171/1965. Lt-General Manekshaw to Bimalaprosad Chaliha, 23 September 1965; ASA CMS/71/70. Y.B. Chavan to Bimalaprosad Chaliha, 6 March 1970.

68 For pre-1966 comparisons between the MNF and NNC, see ASA CMS/171/1965. Sam Manekshaw to Bimalaprosad Chaliha, 23 September 1965. For public use of the term Mizo ‘hostile’, see Rajya Sabha Debate. 10 May 1966. Question No. 138; MSA G/1399/115. R. Natarajan, ‘Copy of Letter: General observation … ’, 27 July 1966.

69 ASA PS/164/1952. Secretary, Tribal Areas Department to Bishnuram Medhi, 9 June 1952.