Editorial

Assam’s autonomy and identity: Rethinking tribal aspirations in a diverse state

Assam’s relationship with its tribal communities has always been shaped by a deep and intricate history. Unlike its neighbours—Nagaland, Mizoram, and Meghalaya

Sentinel Digital Desk

Sabir Nishat 

(sabirnishat554@gmail.com)

Assam’s relationship with its tribal communities has always been shaped by a deep and intricate history. Unlike its neighbours—Nagaland, Mizoram, and Meghalaya—where tribal populations form overwhelming majorities, Assam’s demographic pattern is far more complex. Here, tribal groups coexist with non-tribal Assamese populations, tea-tribe communities, Bengali-origin inhabitants, and various smaller ethnic groups and minorities, creating a mosaic of identities spread across plains, hills, and river valleys. It is this demographic plurality that continues to define the debates surrounding tribal rights, autonomy, and constitutional safeguards.

Historically, Assam’s tribal movements can be traced back to the colonial era, when traditional systems of governance were disrupted and tribal communities began to experience marginalisation. Land alienation intensified as tea plantations expanded and migrant labour was introduced. Many tribes gradually felt that their territories, cultures, and political spaces were shrinking. After India’s independence, the bifurcation of Assam into separate states—Nagaland in 1963, Meghalaya in 1972, Arunachal Pradesh in 1972, and later Mizoram—left many tribal communities within Assam feeling that their aspirations for self-determination had not been fully addressed. These sentiments resurfaced through various movements in the late 20th century, such as the Bodo movement, which demanded autonomy and later statehood, reflecting a desire for political recognition and cultural preservation amid rapid social changes.

This historical trajectory explains why the idea of expanding Sixth Schedule areas still resonates strongly among many tribal groups. The Sixth Schedule offers a degree of self-governance through Autonomous District Councils, allowing tribes to manage land, culture, and local administration with minimal interference from the state government. Assam already has such arrangements in Karbi Anglong, Dima Hasao, and parts of the Bodoland Territorial Region, where tribal populations have significant territorial concentration. For supporters, extending the Sixth Schedule to additional areas would strengthen local autonomy, protect indigenous identity, and ensure that development initiatives reflect the priorities of the communities who live there. It would also serve as a buffer against demographic pressures, particularly in regions where tribes fear becoming minorities following the steep rise in Bengali-speaking Muslim immigrants from Bangladesh. 

Yet the proposal is not without complications. The demographic distribution of many Plains tribes is not concentrated enough for clear-cut autonomous boundaries, making the idea of additional councils potentially contentious. Administrative fragmentation could create overlapping jurisdictions, complicating governance and resource allocation. Some non-tribal populations living within proposed areas also fear exclusion or reduced political voice, especially in regions where communities are closely interwoven. In this sense, while Sixth Schedule expansion represents empowerment for some, it simultaneously raises questions about inclusivity, representation, and administrative coherence.

Comparisons with Nagaland, Mizoram, and Meghalaya often shape these debates, but they also highlight why Assam’s situation is fundamentally distinct. In Nagaland and Mizoram, the dominant tribal identities are relatively homogeneous, allowing for strong constitutional protection under provisions such as Article 371A. Meghalaya, too, was created as a homeland for Khasi, Garo, and Jaintia tribes, with the Sixth Schedule covering most of the state. These states were formed on majoritarian tribal foundations, which ensured that autonomy structures aligned naturally with demographic realities. Assam, however, cannot replicate these models without disregarding its own pluralistic character. Its tribal communities are numerous and diverse, but they share the state with several large non-tribal groups, making statewide tribal status impractical. Autonomy in Assam must therefore remain regional and tailored, rather than universal.

Another layer of complexity arises from the longstanding demand to grant Scheduled Tribe (ST) status to six communities — Koch-Rajbongshi, Tai Ahom, Moran, Matak, Chutia, and the Tea Tribes. Advocates argue that these communities are indigenous to the region and have faced political and socioeconomic marginalisation for decades. For many, ST status represents a pathway to social justice, reservation benefits, and better access to state resources. Politically, the issue has become highly significant, influencing electoral strategies and regional alliances.

However, existing tribal groups have expressed strong reservations about expanding the ST list. Their concerns stem from the fear that adding large, populous communities to the ST category could dilute the benefits currently available to smaller tribes. Competition for jobs, educational opportunities, and political representation would intensify, potentially marginalising tribes with lower population numbers. Some also worry that expanding the category without careful safeguards might overshadow their cultural and linguistic identities within an enlarged ST framework. The tensions generated by these conflicting aspirations underscore the delicate balance the state must maintain: enabling inclusion without causing new forms of exclusion.

The political implications of granting ST status to the six communities are significant. It could shift electoral dynamics in both Upper and Lower Assam, influencing the distribution of power within autonomous councils, local bodies, and even the state assembly. It might also push some tribal groups to renewed demands for greater autonomy if they perceive a dilution of their political space. The challenge lies in ensuring that affirmative action remains meaningful and equitable, especially in a landscape as diverse and sensitive as Assam’s.

Ultimately, the question of whether Assam should move toward greater tribal autonomy, expanded Sixth Schedule areas, or widened ST classification cannot be answered in isolation from its demographic realities. Unlike its neighbours, Assam’s strength — and complexity — lies in its pluralism. Broad, uniform solutions are likely to disrupt rather than resolve its socio-political equilibrium. What the state requires instead is a nuanced, region-specific approach that respects the aspirations of tribal communities while acknowledging the rights and presence of other groups who also call Assam their home.

Moving forward, the path to balance may lie in refining existing autonomy mechanisms, strengthening development for marginalised tribal and non-tribal communities alike, and fostering a political climate built on consensus rather than competition. Assam’s story has always been one of intertwined identities, shared histories, and negotiated coexistence. Its future will depend on cultivating a model of governance that honours this complexity — protecting indigenous rights while upholding the pluralistic fabric that defines the state.