内容摘要：These are not abstract concerns. They raise serious, immediate questions. What happens when the covert surveillance techniques taught in British classrooms are later used to hunt down dissidents? Why are universities not investigating the backgrounds of applicants from regimes where “counterterrorism” is a common pretext for torture and arbitrary detention?

These are not abstract concerns. They raise serious, immediate questions. What happens when the covert surveillance techniques taught in British classrooms are later used to hunt down dissidents? Why are universities not investigating the backgrounds of applicants from regimes where “counterterrorism” is a common pretext for torture and arbitrary detention?

Unlike in the past, when Nagaland – part of a region that has historically had poor physical connectivity with the rest of India – also had no internet, coffee roasters, buyers and farmers could now build online links with the outside world. “[The] market was not like what it is today,” said Albert Ngullie, the director of the LRD.The LRD builds nurseries and provides free saplings to farmers, besides supporting farm maintenance. Unlike before, the government is also investing in the post-harvest process by supplying coffee pulpers to farmers, setting up washing stations and curing units in a few districts and recently, supporting entrepreneurs with roastery units.

Among those to benefit is Lichan Humtsoe. He set up his company Ete (which means “ours” in the Lotha Naga dialect) in 2016 after quitting his pen-pushing job in the LRD and was the first in the state to source, serve and supply Naga specialty coffee. Today, Ete runs its own cafes, roasteries and a coffee laboratory, researching the chemical properties of indigenous fruits as flavour notes. Ete also has a coffee school in Nagaland (and a campus in the neighbouring state of Manipur) with a dedicated curriculum and training facilities to foster the next generation of coffee professionals.Humtsoe said the past decade has shown that the private sector and government in Nagaland have complemented each other in promoting coffee.Nagaland’s growing coffee story also coincides with an overall increase in India’s exports of coffee beans.

In 2024, India’s coffee exports surpassed $1bn for the first time, with production doubling compared with 2020-21. While more than 70 percent of India’s coffee comes from the southern state of Karnataka, the Coffee Board has been trying to expand cultivation in the Northeast.Building a coffee culture in Nagaland is no easy feat, given that decades of unrest left the state in want of infrastructure and almost completely reliant on federal funding. Growing up in the 1990s, when military operations against alleged armed groups were frequent and security forces would often barge into homes, day or night, Humtsoe wanted nothing to do with India.

At one point, he stopped speaking Nagamese – a bridge dialect among the state’s 16 tribes and a creole version of the Indian language, Assamese. But he grew disillusioned with the

rooted in separatism that armed groups were seeking. And the irony of the state’s dependence on funds from New Delhi hit the now 39-year-old.I was reminded of that remarkable scene while I read accounts over the past few months from a disparate group of Americans, including artists and academics, departing their beloved homeland in the distressing wake of President Donald Trump’s jarring return to the Oval Office.

Before I continue, I am obliged to make two instructive points.First, by invoking Zelenskyy’s vow to remain in Ukraine despite the ominous risks, I do not mean to imply that enlightened Americans opting to forgo living and working in the United States, lack courage.

Each of us has confronted or will confront in due course a defining dilemma: to stay or to go.Answering the prickly question can stir doubt and anxiety. Making a choice, regardless of the direction, is a bold act. It takes resolve to exchange the familiar for the unknown.