By Dr. Omarlin Kyndiah
The Khasi Hills Autonomous District Council’s (KHADC) recent appointment of Mynjurlang Majaw, a myntri as Acting Syiem of Hima Sohra has sparked public dismay, particularly because the community had already accepted Marremdor Syiem, the customary Syiem-designate. While the United Khasi and Jaintia Hills Autonomous District (Appointment and Succession of Chiefs and Headmen) Act, 1959 mandates elections upon a Syiem’s demise and allows for an interim Acting Syiem, the KHADC’s refusal to recognise the community’s choice coupled with its imposition of a non-Syiem-clan appointee appears less a matter of legal protocol and more an act of political interference.
The kur (founding clan) of a Hima has always held a central role not merely in providing the Syiem, but in electing or rejecting candidates through a traditional council known as the electoral Dorbar. This body includes Lyngdoh, Basan, Lyngskor, Myntri and Sirdar. Their collective decision reflects a long-standing system of governance rooted in consensus, lineage, and custom.
Yet there is no single method for choosing a Syiem. Each Hima has its own way, shaped by local tradition. When the British took control in the 19th century, they sought to standardise this process. Following W. J. Allen’s 1858 report, the colonial government began requiring that succession in major states like Mylliem, Maharam, Mariaw, and Nongkhlaw be confirmed by the Government. From 1859 onward, every Syiem had to sign a succession agreement and was given a sanad. This shifted the basis of authority from the people and the clan to state approval.
The practice of Autonomous District Councils (ADCs) issuing sanads to Syiems, Dollois, Rangbah Shnongs and Waheh Chnong is a continuation of a British colonial custom that began in 1859. Back then, the colonial government introduced the sanad to bring chieftaincy under state control. This shifted authority away from the people and the founding clans and placed it in the hands of the administration.
This practice keeps alive a colonial model. It treats traditional offices not as cultural institutions but as administrative posts that need official sanction. In reality, it gives ADCs power to accept or reject chiefs, often for political reasons. This undermines the autonomy of the Hima and weakens public trust in both the chiefs and the councils.
Given this, the sanad system should no longer continue as it is. While it may have made sense under colonial rule, it has no place in a system meant to protect tribal self-governance. The Sixth Schedule was supposed to empower local communities, not replace one form of outside control with another.
Instead, the ADC’s role should be limited to formally acknowledging a chief who has already been chosen by the people through their customs. The sanad could remain but as a ceremonial gesture, not a condition of office. True respect for tradition means letting the Dorbar and the founding clan lead the process, free from political interference. Only then can chieftaincy regain its rightful place as a true reflection of tradition, chosen by the people, and grounded in Khasi and Jaintia identity.
After Independence, the Sixth Schedule replaced traditional self-governance with Autonomous District Councils (ADCs) like the KHADC, making traditional chiefs : Syiems, Sirdars, Dollois etc. subordinate to ADCs. A key turning point was the amendment to the United Khasi & Jaintia Hills Autonomous District (Appointment & Succession of Chiefs and Headmen) Act, 1959, which introduced the posts of Deputy Chief and Acting Chief. Under this amendment, “any person” from “any clan” can be appointed as Acting Chief, which is contrary to the traditional practice. These roles have no basis in customary law, which strictly limits chieftaincy to members of the designated ruling clan, chosen through community consensus. While legal under the amended Act, this provision creates a clear scope for political manipulation by any ruling party of the ADC, as it can appoint loyalists or convenient candidates as Acting Chief, bypassing traditional legitimacy and using chieftaincy as a tool for political patronage or control.
This system carries forward a colonial legacy: traditional chiefs are caught between their cultural role and bureaucratic control. It creates tension, especially during succession, when the community’s customary choice may differ from official decisions. The current situation in Hima Sohra is not just about one individual. It reflects a deeper conflict between self-governance and the administrative authority of the KHADC.
Compare this with the Mizo Hills, where chieftainship was abolished after Independence through the Assam-Lushai District (Acquisition of Chief’s Rights) Act, 1954. That path brought an end to dual authority and established a unified democratic system.
The three-tier system in Meghalaya comprising the State government, the Autonomous District Councils (ADCs), and the traditional institutions of chiefs was envisioned as a balanced framework to preserve tribal identity while enabling modern governance. Yet, decades later, its sustainability is increasingly being called into question. Rather than functioning as pillars of self-rule, these tiers often find themselves in conflict, particularly over issues of authority, succession, and recognition.
At the same time, traditional chiefs must also reflect: to remain relevant, they must evolve not by abandoning custom, but by engaging constructively with transparency, accountability, and inclusivity. Clinging solely to lineage without addressing contemporary expectations can weaken public trust.
For this three-tier polity to endure, it must be recalibrated through mutual respect. The State and ADCs should cease treating chieftaincy as an extension of political power. Likewise, traditional institutions must open up to greater dialogue with the people they serve.
To truly honour Khasi and Jaintia identity, we must rethink this arrangement not by ending chieftaincy, but by restoring the authority of the Dorbar Hima and the founding kur. Succession should be guided by evolving custom, not administrative approval. Only then can the Syiem and other traditional offices regain their rightful place not as government-assigned posts, but as living symbols of Khasi and Jaintia sovereignty and indigenous governance.
