Oilmen and their tricks

By Imlisanen Jamir

The ways of oilmen are strange, but not unfamiliar. They arrive with promises, legal documents, and numbers that sound like salvation. They speak of development, of shared wealth, of progress. And yet, wherever they go, the story is eerily similar: land lost, communities divided, and promises—when fulfilled—benefiting the few at the expense of the many.

Nagaland’s ongoing oil debate is not about whether the ground beneath holds riches; that much has been known for decades. It is about control, about who gets to decide the fate of these resources. The Deputy Chief Minister’s stance—no to incursive exploration, yes to revenue sharing—reads like an attempt at balance, but balance in whose favor?

History tells us that the first move of the oilman is always to establish legitimacy. Laws, regulations, contracts—these are mere tools. In Nagaland, the question of legitimacy has been entangled with Article 371A, a constitutional safeguard meant to protect the rights of the people over their land and resources. It is, in theory, a shield. But oilmen are patient. They do not need to break a law outright if they can reinterpret it, if they can find just enough local cooperation to move forward under the guise of consent. And when consent is elusive, there is always pressure, persuasion, or the simple lure of wealth for a chosen few who will speak on behalf of many.

The argument for economic necessity is an old one, used wherever oil is found beneath lands that are inconveniently occupied. Revenue-sharing sounds fair until one remembers that the distribution of wealth rarely follows the logic of fairness. Will the compensation match the consequences? Who will bear the burden when the land, once taken, is no longer theirs to reclaim?
The strangest trick of all is the illusion of choice. It is framed as a negotiation: between the state and the oil companies, between the people and the government, between competing interests within the region itself. But history shows that once oilmen enter, the choices narrow. The conversation shifts from “should we?” to “how much?” From “do we want this?” to “how do we make it work?”

And so, the question is not just about Nagaland’s oil, nor even about whether the state should negotiate better terms. The real question is: can any agreement truly serve the people when it is made on the oilmen’s terms? And if history is any guide, do the people ever really have a say?

Comments can be sent to imlisanenjamir@gmail.com



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