Across Nagaland, villages that once depended on the energy of young hands in the fields are undergoing a slow but noticeable shift. Farming continues in most districts, but fewer young people are choosing to stay back and work on the land.
Conversations with farmers from Phek, Mon, Tuensang, Peren, Wokha and Longleng reveal a shared concern: the younger generation is steadily moving away from agriculture, driven by a mix of economic pressures and social change.
In many villages, education is now viewed as the primary pathway to a better future. Farmers in Phek and Mon say young people leave mainly to pursue studies, with the hope that schooling will translate into stable employment.
Agriculture, by contrast, is widely seen as uncertain. Limited access to markets and weak marketing knowledge make it difficult to earn a steady income from farm produce. Without assured buyers and fair prices, farming struggles to compete with other livelihood options.
In Tuensang, respondents pointed to the physical demands of village life. Long hours in the fields, exposure to sun and rain, and hard manual labour make farming appear far less attractive than town-based work.
Even low-paying jobs in hotels, shops or offices are perceived as easier and more comfortable. This difference in lifestyle has become a strong push factor for rural youth.
Peren district reflects a similar trend. Education has opened new possibilities, and even those who complete only basic schooling are often reluctant to return to farming. Most cultivation in the area remains focused on household consumption rather than commercial production. Without scale, infrastructure or strong market links, agriculture is difficult to imagine as a long-term profession.
Yet the picture is not uniform across the state. In Mon district, farming practices remain largely traditional, and community participation is still visible. Youths often work in groups, sometimes on daily wages and sometimes through mutual help. The use of non-local labour is rare, and collective farming has helped retain local involvement.
The question of migrant or non-local labour varies by district. In Phek and Peren, some farmers said land is occasionally shared with non-local workers on 50:50 arrangements to ensure fields do not remain idle.
These workers are often more flexible about wages. In Wokha and Longleng, respondents noted that local labourers sometimes demand higher pay or are unwilling to accept certain conditions, prompting farmers to hire outsiders willing to work for the offered rates. In Mon and Tuensang, however, agriculture is still handled mostly by local residents.
Infrastructure challenges further complicate the situation. In Mon, the hilly terrain makes mechanisation difficult. Paddy and other crops are frequently carried by hand because roads are narrow and poorly connected. In some places, temporary tracks are created only during harvest season. Such physical constraints add to the burden of farm work and discourage young people from continuing in agriculture.
Climate change is another growing concern. Farmers in Tuensang reported declining yields. Even when families cultivate beans, paddy and other crops, the harvest is sometimes insufficient to last the entire year. When effort does not translate into food security or income, farming begins to feel increasingly risky.
The role of Article 371A, which safeguards Naga land and customary practices, appears limited at the village level. Many respondents admitted they have little awareness of its provisions.
Land is already managed through customary systems, and the constitutional protection has not significantly influenced young people’s decisions to stay in or leave agriculture.
Customary land ownership itself produces mixed outcomes. In districts such as Tuensang and Longleng, communal ownership can make land access easier for youths, as plots are allocated collectively.
In Peren, however, the absence of individual ownership can restrict decision-making freedom. Even so, access to land alone does not determine whether young people choose farming. Income security and social perception matter more.
Social attitudes towards manual labour have also shifted. In Wokha, villagers said many educated youths hesitate to engage in physically demanding work. Farming may offer certain securities—no rent, access to firewood and water—but it requires long-term commitment.
Some elders believe a declining willingness to endure hardship has reduced participation. In Longleng, peer influence and school dropouts were cited as additional factors, with some youths opting for quick earnings over sustained agricultural engagement.
Despite the challenges, farmers across districts are not without ideas. Better market access is the most frequently voiced demand. If produce could be sold easily and at fair prices, agriculture would become more attractive. Diversification is another key suggestion. Farmers in Tuensang spoke of expanding into beekeeping, maize, cardamom, rubber, timber and livestock activities such as piggery and poultry to create regular income streams.
Government support is seen as crucial. Financial assistance, training and greater awareness of schemes could help young farmers take calculated risks. In Longleng and Peren, respondents emphasised the need for targeted initiatives for school dropouts and small landholders. Without guidance and resources, large-scale cultivation feels daunting.
The broader picture suggests that migration is not driven by a single cause. It is shaped by income insecurity, lifestyle aspirations, poor infrastructure, limited market access and changing social values. While some villages still maintain strong local participation, others increasingly depend on non-local labour to keep their fields productive.
Nagaland’s villages are not empty, but the age profile of farmers is changing. Older generations continue to till the land, while many young people look elsewhere for opportunity. If agriculture is to remain resilient, it must be seen not only as tradition but as a viable and respected livelihood.
As rural-to-urban migration continues, the question remains: can farming in Nagaland adapt to the hopes and expectations of its younger generation? The answer may lie in whether economic support, infrastructure development and social recognition come together to make agriculture sustainable—and rewarding—once again.
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