The Privilege That Cannot Mask Reality: Why Temjen Imna Along’s Denial of Racism Rings Hollow
In a country wrestling with its vast diversity and the prejudices that often accompany it, the words we use to define injustice matter deeply. They shape policy, reflect social reality, and determine whose experiences are validated—or erased. Against this fragile backdrop, recent comments by Nagaland BJP leader Temjen Imna Along, minimizing the racism faced by Northeastern people by reducing it to mere “discrimination,” have provoked a sharp and necessary backlash.
An EastMojo editorial titled “Mr. Temjen Imna Along, your privilege won’t hide racism against Northeasterners,” pulls no punches. It argues that Along’s remarks reflect a dangerous detachment rooted not in lived experience, but in the insulation of political power, wealth, and influence. The argument is straightforward: when prejudice focuses on someone’s physical features, ethnicity, culture, or perceived foreignness, the correct word for it is racism—not an innocuous euphemism.
The insistence on “discrimination” is not just semantics. It is a distortion of the Northeast’s lived trauma.
The Semantics of Suffering: Why Calling It “Discrimination” Is Dishonest
In his now-controversial remarks, Temjen Imna Along argued that racism is a Western concept limited to countries like the United States or Great Britain. According to him, Indians from the Northeast face only “discrimination,” not racism.
This argument collapses under the weight of reality.
Discrimination is a broad term: the denial of a job, a flat, or access to resources due to bias. Racism, however, is specific. It is hostility or violence rooted in race, ethnicity, appearance, and culture.
The editorial rightly points out that the daily insults and attacks suffered by Northeasterners are rooted in East Asian features, cultural identity, and perceived foreignness—making them classic, textbook examples of racism:
- During COVID-19, Northeastern individuals were spat on, called “Corona,” “Chinese,” “Momo,” and “Chowmein,” purely because of their facial features.
- Women from the region are routinely fetishized or branded as sex workers—an act not of mere discrimination, but racialized misogyny.
- Students in metros face taunts of “Nepali,” “Chinki,” “Chinese,” and “Outsider,” regardless of their actual identity.
These are not misunderstandings. They are acts of racial violence.
To deny the word “racism” is to deny the truth.
When Prejudice Turns Deadly: A History Written in Blood
The editorial draws from some of the most painful and defining tragedies that Northeast Indians have suffered—incidents that expose the systemic and lethal nature of racism in India.
1. Nido Tania (2014): A Nation Confronts Its Ugly Reflection
Nido Tania, a student from Arunachal Pradesh, was beaten to death in Delhi after he objected to a racist slur. His death sparked national outrage, revealing the everyday hostility Northeasterners face in the capital.
2. Oting Killings (Nagaland, 2021): A “Genocide,” Yet Reduced to “Discrimination”?
In one of the darkest episodes in recent Indian history, security forces shot dead 13 innocent Naga villagers in a botched operation. Temjen Imna Along himself once called it a “genocide.”
If the killing of unarmed villagers by state forces is “discrimination,” then the word has lost all meaning.
3. Manipur’s Collapse Into Ethnic Violence (2023–2024)
The ongoing crisis in Manipur—marked by mass killings, destruction of homes, displacement, and widespread sexual violence—was met with shocking political indifference. More than 1,500 people were reportedly killed in “encounters,” and thousands displaced.
The editorial poses a piercing question:
“When was the last time Rajasthanis, Tamilians, Maharashtrians, or Malayalis were shot dead simply because of who they are or what they look like?”
The silence that follows answers it.
Racism Is Not Only Violence—It Is the Silence of Power
Beyond physical attacks, racism manifests through indifference, invisibility, and selective humanity. The editorial underscores how the central government’s reactions reveal an unequal valuation of Northeastern lives.
A Prime Minister Who Traveled the World But Avoided Manipur
While Manipur burned, the Prime Minister visited dozens of foreign nations. He did not visit the conflict zone until much later. When the nation’s leadership ignores a humanitarian crisis in its own land, what message does it send?
A Home Minister Who Tweeted About a Cricket League Before Manipur’s Bloodshed
The editorial cites the Home Minister’s tweet promoting the Gandhinagar Premier League. Only later did he address the violence in Manipur. Timing matters; priorities matter. The message was clear: the tragedy of a Northeastern state did not warrant immediate concern.
Mizoram’s Refugee Humanitarian Effort Ignored
After the Myanmar coup, Mizoram housed tens of thousands of refugees. The editorial points out that the Centre allegedly offered no financial assistance. It was a humanitarian crisis met with bureaucratic coldness.
Mainland Media’s Selective Outrage: When a Tourist’s Life Is Worth More
Media bias reflects social bias.
- When a tourist was killed in Meghalaya, the national media stormed the state, painting it as unsafe and violent.
- But when three local children were killed within weeks, there was complete silence.
The editorial’s verdict is painful but accurate:
“The murder of one tourist is more valuable than the murder of three precious children.”
Racism is not only about slurs or violence—it is about whose deaths are considered “newsworthy.”
The Insulating Shield of Privilege: Why Temjen Imna Along Cannot Speak for the Northeast
A recurring theme in the editorial is the gap between Temjen Imna Along’s life and the daily struggles of ordinary Northeastern people. As a political leader with wealth, influence, and national visibility, his experience cannot represent the collective reality.
Along does not:
- Buy vegetables in Delhi and get called “Momo.”
- Walk home late at night and get heckled by strangers.
- Sit in trains while people wrinkle their noses at the smell of pork or fermented bean dishes—foods central to Northeastern culture.
- Live in rented flats where landlords treat Northeastern tenants with suspicion.
His privilege shields him from the racism that millions endure.
To deny their suffering is to weaponize that privilege against them.
Why Acknowledging Racism Is the First Step Toward Ending It
Language shapes reality. If leadership refuses to recognize a problem, society has no incentive to address it. The editorial ends with a clear and urgent message:
“Your privilege shields you from racism, and not everyone has that privilege.”
Denying racism allows it to flourish. Naming it is the first act of resistance.
For the Northeast, whose people have been marginalized, mocked, exoticized, or erased for generations, the fight for dignity begins with truth.
No amount of political power can rewrite the lived experiences of millions.
No semantic gymnastics can erase the pain written into the Northeast’s collective memory.
And no privileged viewpoint can silence the reality: racism exists in India, and Northeasterners live with it every day.
To heal, we must first acknowledge the wound.
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