By Lang Kupar Kharpuri War
When Meghalaya Chief Minister Conrad Sangma unveiled One Northeast, it was presented as a bold new experiment in regional unity—an idea supposedly born from the unmet aspirations of the eight Northeastern states. Words like “unity,” “identity,” and “indigenous rights” framed the announcement as if the region were stepping into a historic new chapter. But anyone familiar with the political history of the Northeast knows that One Northeast is far from new. It is, in fact, the latest revival of a political project first attempted by Conrad’s father, the late Purno A. Sangma.
The late P.A. Sangma spent years exploring ways to build a shared political platform for the Northeastern states, most notably through the North-East People’s Forum (NEPF) in the mid-2000s. His effort reflected a genuine belief that the region needed a collective voice in national politics—a sentiment that resonated with many leaders at the time. But the NEPF emerged in a complex political environment, shaped by shifting national alliances, changing electoral currents, and the competing priorities of different Northeastern parties.
Contemporary reporting illustrates how these pressures affected the forum. In 2004, The Telegraph noted that the NEPF recalibrated its strategy following the Congress party’s strong national performance under Sonia Gandhi, which altered the political calculations of several member-parties. By 2008, former Assam Chief Minister Prafulla Mahanta publicly called for the revival of the NEPF ahead of the general elections, indicating that the platform had lost momentum as regional actors pursued divergent interests.
Rather than a failure of intent, the NEPF experience highlighted the structural difficulty of sustaining a pan-Northeast formation at a time when each state’s political landscape was shaped by distinct ethnic, electoral, and party compulsions. Yet, despite its short-lived nature, the NEPF marked an important attempt to articulate a regional imagination—an experiment that now echoes, in a different form, through Conrad Sangma’s One Northeast initiative.
Seen against this backdrop, One Northeast looks less like a new idea and more like a revival of an earlier regional experiment—one that Conrad Sangma has reshaped and presented through the National People’s Party (NPP). The NPP has spent years promoting the idea that it represents the entire Northeast, using the slogan “One Voice. One Northeast” to support that claim. But despite significant effort and expenditure, it has struggled to build a stable base in Arunachal Pradesh, Manipur, Nagaland, and even in large parts of Meghalaya.
The NPP’s main strategy for expansion has not been building a strong grassroots base or trust from the ground up, but poaching MLAs from opposition parties. This has happened repeatedly in Meghalaya—especially after elections—where legislators have crossed over to the NPP, helping the party shore up numbers and control governments. These defections may strengthen the party inside the Assembly, but they do not create genuine support among ordinary voters.
In the Khasi Hills in particular, the NPP continues to face deep scepticism and erosion of trust. Many people see the party as one that grows by engineering political shifts rather than by earning a mandate. In that sense, One Northeast looks like an attempt to escape the NPP’s image problem by rebranding its ambitions under a broader, seemingly neutral regional banner, even though the underlying political habits remain the same.
An Alliance of Convenience, Not Conviction
A closer look at the parties involved reveals the initiative’s true shape. Rather than an organic coalition reflecting the region’s many aspirations, One Northeast appears to be a carefully assembled group of parties already tied to the BJP-led NDA. Pradyot Manikya’s cooperation with the BJP in Tripura, Conrad Sangma’s longstanding alliance with the BJP in Meghalaya, and the presence of leaders with deep links to the ruling party at the Centre paint a clear picture.
What is marketed as a unified Northeastern voice looks increasingly like a familiar bloc of BJP-aligned partners. This alone casts serious doubt on the platform’s autonomy and raises questions about whose interests it ultimately serves.
The Shadow of Proxy Expansion
Because of these alignments, many observers suspect that One Northeast may function as a proxy for BJP expansion into regions where the party has historically struggled—particularly Christian-majority states like Meghalaya and Mizoram. A regional platform led by local allies offers a softer and acceptable entry point for the BJP-RSS. If that is the underlying strategy, then the initiative is less about defending regional identity and more about extending the BJP-RSS political influence through a regional façade.
A Homogenizing Blueprint in a Deeply Diverse Region
The danger intensifies when one considers how the initiative imagines regional unity. The Northeast is not a monolith; it is a landscape shaped by tribal sovereignties, intricate customary systems, distinct ecological practices, and linguistic worlds that are as varied as its hills and valleys. These differences are not incidental—they are foundational to the political and cultural architecture of the region.
For years, national policies have often grouped the entire Northeast into a single category, ignoring these important variations. The fact that the Constitution had to create the Sixth Schedule is proof that a uniform approach could never fully work here. Yet this habit of treating the region as one block has continued, and it has often led to tensions over autonomy and identity.
While One Northeast is a political platform and not a government policy, it risks repeating the same pattern. By presenting the region as one large, united voice, it overlooks the diverse realities on the ground. Instead of encouraging meaningful conversations among communities, it promotes a top-down version of unity that seems to benefit political leaders more than the people it claims to represent.
Land Rights: The Promise vs. the Record
The gap between promise and reality becomes most obvious when we look at land rights—a central part of indigenous identity in the Northeast. This is where One Northeast’s claims clash directly with the NPP-led Meghalaya government’s own actions.
One of the most debated moves under Conrad Sangma’s leadership was the creation of the Invest Meghalaya Agency (IMA), which was later renamed the Meghalaya Investment Promotion Authority (MIPA) through the Meghalaya State Investment Promotion & Facilitation Act, 2024. The original IMA immediately raised red flags across the Khasi and Jaintia Hills because many of its provisions were seen as enabling the formation of land banks and making it easier for private investors to acquire land. Critics argued that this could weaken the protections offered by the Meghalaya Transfer of Land (Regulation) Act, 1971 and even bypass the safeguards guaranteed under the Sixth Schedule.
To make matters worse, the acronym “IMA” sounded almost identical to the Khasi word for “danger,” reinforcing fears that the legislation posed a real threat to tribal land ownership. Pressure groups like the Khasi Students’ Union (KSU) and the Hynñiewtrep National Youth Front (HNYF) launched strong protests, arguing that the law would allow the state to sidestep the Autonomous District Councils and push through land transfers in the name of “investment.”
After months of sustained public pressure, the government amended the law in March 2025. The most controversial clause—explicitly allowing land banks—was removed, and the Act was updated to say it would not override existing land-transfer laws. However, civil society groups pointed out that one key feature remained unchanged: the legal indemnity clause for MIPA members. This clause protects agency officials from legal action for decisions made “in good faith,” which many activists believe could weaken accountability and transparency in land governance.
Because of this, mistrust has not gone away. Protest groups argue that even with amendments, the Act still centralises control, sidelines traditional institutions, and creates opportunities for investment-driven land changes that could erode customary protections. The fact that the Chief Minister had to publicly assure the Assembly that MIPA would not bypass indigenous land laws showed just how deep public concern had become.
In short, the IMA–MIPA episode highlights a wider contradiction: while Conrad Sangma and the NPP speak of protecting indigenous rights through One Northeast, their own policies in Meghalaya have tested the strength of tribal land protections. This gap between words and actions continues to shape public mistrust.
A Slogan Searching for Substance
In its public presentation, One Northeast aspires to be a movement—a unifying force capable of articulating the collective will of a region long sidelined in national politics. But movements are built on conviction, coherence, and community participation. What stands before the public today is instead a scaffold: hastily assembled, rhetorically inflated, and politically expedient.
A platform that invokes unity while drawing its strength from ideologically similar parties with the RSS-BJP cannot authentically represent a region defined by pluralism. A coalition led by those who have compromised land protections cannot credibly defend indigenous rights. And an initiative conceived without grassroots consultation cannot claim to embody regional aspiration.
Unity Cannot Be Manufactured From Above
If real unity is ever to emerge in the Northeast, it will not come from branding exercises, political alliances, or top-down declarations. It must rise from communities themselves—through dialogue, mutual respect, and the strengthening of indigenous institutions rather than their absorption into larger political designs led by elite political families.
Until such conditions exist, One Northeast remains what it currently is: a grand claim built on a hollow architecture, a political tool searching for legitimacy, and a regional dream redirected to serve interests of a few in the name of regional identity.
(The writer is Assistant Professor, Department of English, North-Eastern Hill University (NEHU), Email: [email protected])
