Morung Express News
Dimapur | March 1
Across the towns and villages of Nagaland, indigenous languages are quietly fading, taking with them centuries of culture, history and identity. While the crisis goes unnoticed by the wider world, its impact is devastating and irreversible. It is widely observed that indigenous and traditional languages face a struggle for survival, as younger generations increasingly adopt languages that are more dominant.
A recent public poll conducted by The Morung Express sought to understand the reasons behind this decline and the responses highlights the realities of shifting priorities, societal pressures and a generational disconnect.
While the reasons are mixed, the poll reveals a clear finding - the responsibility begins at home, but it is heightened by gap in education and the persistent globalization.
A parental choice
The most cited reason, garnering 45% responses, was the preference for English and the common lingua franca, Nagamese, within families.
“Parents are solely responsible for not letting their children learn their mother tongue,” one participant stated.
The argument is that parents, in a well-intentioned effort, are opting for an English-first household. “Children will naturally learn English in school,” another respondent argued, “so parents should focus on teaching them to speak their mother tongue at home.”
The sentiment is that a child’s first and most influential classroom is the home, and when that space is dominated by a foreign or link language, the mother tongue has little chance to take root.
However, criticism was reserved for Nagamese. While English is acknowledged as a necessary tool for connecting with the outside world, Nagamese is seen as an internal threat. “It has no relevance or usage outside Nagaland,” one respondent argued. “Even within Nagaland, everyone talks in Nagamese according to their own style. There is no one right way of speaking it. If we are not careful, Nagamese will destroy Nagas.”
Systemic barriers
While parental choice was the leading factor, 20% respondents pointed to a fundamental structural barrier, the lack of a written script and educational materials for most Naga languages.
“This is the main reason why our Naga languages are not developing,” one participant explained. Without a standardised script, the participant said, “This also means it is not as easy to learn our own language. It is far easier to learn to read and write English.”
In supplement, 14% respondents voted for children not learning their own language. They noted that the dominance of English in education and media has made it the default language for intellectual and creative expression.
“Today, almost all school-going students would prefer to read books and poems written in English rather than those written in their own languages,” one participant observed, pointing to a widening gap between cultural inheritance and modern aspiration.
A further 21% responses, categorised as ‘Others’ reasoned the complex modern landscape that Naga languages must navigate.
One response highlighted the impact of migration for education. “Parents from villages send their children to cities like Kohima and Dimapur to pursue better educational opportunities,” the respondent wrote. “However, in cities, the social environment is very different. Neighborhoods and schools are diverse... a common language—often English or Nagamese—becomes the practical medium of communication. So the issue is not simply about 'parents failing.' It is also about migration for education, urbanization, and the pressure to adapt to multilingual environments.”
This reality is compounded by other social shifts. Parents are increasingly busy with work, reducing family communication time. “Emerging growth of parental engagements in work place and social space, has reduced family communication which to me is the prime reason for children being exposed more to common language like Nagamese,” one person stated.
Some parents view a toddler speaking English as a “trophy,” a symbol of modernity and status.
Mixed marriages, while appreciated, can also create a linguistic vacuum at home where a common link language, rather than either parent's mother tongue, becomes the default. The influence of media, technology and even competitive boarding schools, where communication is forced into other languages, further shrinks the spaces where a mother tongue can be spoken organically, were stated.
One response remarked, “If a child from intermarriage goes to his father's Village and is unable to speak his father's tongue, they are not only denied leadership roles but ostracised harshly. When there are plenty of spaces and options to fit, why force [them] into a limited space where you are demoralised?”
A call to action
The poll presents a disheartening analysis, but it is not without hope, instead it is a call to action.
Suggestions range from practical steps, like introducing mother-tongue textbooks under the SCERT, to a fundamental shift in mindset.
“If we love, wish to preserve and promote our local languages, we have to start focusing on our own languages which is not impossible,” one respondent urged. “Speak and write them. No script? Then create them; sounds funny but I think this is exactly how every other languages did!”
Another suggested attaining a balance Nagaland by “Strengthening English in academic settings while preserving indigenous languages could provide a more sustainable balance between global engagement and cultural identity.”
