By - Imkong Walling
Imagine a scenario. There is a big announcement by the Union government, advertising job vacancies in one of its many departments. Hope rises across the country, among thousands of unemployed youths aspiring to get a secure Central government job. The hopefuls minutely go through the content in the advertisement, checking out the nature of the advertised posts, pay scale, educational and age criteria, et cetera, until they reach a part that says it is open to candidates from the ‘General’ category, only.
Utter shock and dismay would descend upon the other socio-economic categories, including the Nagas, categorised as a Scheduled Tribe (ST), while the reaction would be one of jubilation among the ‘General’ folks. The former would cry foul, alleging the government of elitism, and discriminating based on class and ethnicity. The latter grouping would celebrate the prospect of finally getting a fair deal in a system, which they argue, has tilted against their favour, for decades, solely based on broad socio-economic parameters.
Likewise, imagine a scenario playing out at the sub-national level, say in Nagaland— a state with clearly defined job eligibility criteria like at the national level. In this scenario, however, the vacant advertised posts happened to be exclusively reserved for Naga indigenous inhabitants of the state. It is off-limits to non-Naga tribal minorities constitutionally recognised as non-Naga indigenous to the state.
What would the reaction be? Would it be justified when a small minority that has cried foul over majoritarian politicking in the larger Indian polity, plays the same game on home turf?
How would the Nagas, as a minority, feel if job reservation for STs is revoked, or excluded for job opportunities at the Central level?
On the day the advertisement for 1,176 vacant posts in the Nagaland Police constabulary was announced, the DGP claimed that the recruitment process has been designed to ensure fairness and transparency. But the exclusion of four indigenous but marginalised non-Naga minority communities from eligibility contradicts the very concept of fairness the government professes to uphold.
By excluding the minorities, the state government denied a fundamental Constitutional right (Article 16), warranting equality of opportunity for all citizens in matters of public employment.
The DGP was ambiguous when he alluded to unexplained “issues” that purportedly had the government keeping in “abeyance” the proportion of reserved seats for the four minority communities, namely, the Garo, Kachari, Mikir, and Kuki.
As pointed out by the Association of Indigenous Minority Tribes of Nagaland (AIMTN), the state government further violated its own 52 years old directive. The order, dating to July 6, 1973, provisioned for reserving 100 percent of non-technical Grade III & IV posts, and 80 percent of all other appointments or posts for indigenous inhabitants of the state belonging to any Naga tribes, Kuki, Kachari, Garo and Mikir.
The NSF’s Inner Line Regulation Commission (ILRC) should have remembered that there are non-Naga indigenous communities, officially recognised by the state government.
The issue here, today, is not only about social and economic justice, but also putting a mirror to the face, and getting in someone's shoes.
Came across this quote in Goodreads: “Always put yourself in others' shoes. If you feel that it hurts you, it probably hurts the other person, too.” Imagine, think.
The writer is a Principal Correspondent at The Morung Express. Comments can be sent to imkongwalls@gmail.com
