Asieno Kieleinyu,
Department of Political Science, Modern College, Piphema
Nagaland is a dry state. At least that is what the law says. The bottles, however, seem to have their own interpretation of the situation. The NLTP Act has been with us for decades, firmly telling Nagaland that liquor is not welcome here. In fact, very respectable and very disciplined as per the law. The only small problem is that liquor seems to have ignored the invitation to leave. The recent deaths in Mokokchung and Tuensang have once again exposed the uncomfortable reality. Nineteen people have died in incidents involving suspected spurious liquor, and investigations are underway. And suddenly, the question we have been carrying quietly for years is standing right in front of us. If Nagaland is a dry state, how is illegal liquor still flowing through it? Perhaps the bottles have developed better transport facilities than we have.
Every time a tragedy strikes, the familiar cycle begins: raids, seizures, arrests, statements, meetings and promises of stricter enforcement. This time too, thousands of bottles were seized, and a Special Investigation Team was formed. But after all the excitement dies down, what happens? We go back to normal. Until the next tragedy, our State's situation is painfully ironic. We have a law saying, 'No liquor', while illegal liquor continues to find its way into society. The question here is not simply whether liquor should be allowed or banned. The bigger question is whether a policy that has existed for so long is actually achieving what it was created to achieve. Maybe it is time to ask uncomfortable questions instead of comfortable ones. Is prohibition working as intended? Are we enforcing the law effectively? Are we addressing alcohol abuse itself or are we simply chasing bottles after they appear? And are ordinary people being given enough awareness about the dangers of consuming unknown substances?
For a state that has had a prohibition law for decades, these questions should not sound new. Perhaps the biggest irony is that the NLTP Act was created to protect society from the harms of alcohol. Yet today, we are again discussing deaths connected to illegal liquor. A law can say, 'No'. But a law alone cannot make a problem disappear. Maybe it is time that Nagaland stopped treating the law as the finish line and started treating it as a starting point because banning something on paper is not the same as solving it on the ground. Because if our answer to every tragedy is simply another raid, another seizure and another headline, then maybe the real problem is not just what is inside the bottle. Maybe it is what we have failed to address outside it.
The NLTP Act represents a historic attempt to use law to shape the social behaviour of an entire state. Its objectives relate to public health, protection of families, social discipline and reduction of alcohol-related harm, which remain significant. Yet, three and a half decades of prohibition have produced a complicated reality. The law remains firmly on the statute book, while official seizures and continuing enforcement demonstrate that illegal liquor remains part of the state's economic and social landscape. Recent government discussions have also acknowledged the challenges of black-market activity and spurious liquor.
The central question is therefore no longer simply “Prohibition or Regulation”. It is: how can Nagaland most effectively protect its people from the harms associated with alcohol while preventing an underground economy from flourishing outside the reach of regulation? If prohibition is retained, it requires stronger, more transparent and evidence-based implementation. If reform or regulation is considered, it must be accompanied by strict public-health safeguards, responsible licensing and robust measures against addiction and harmful consumption.
The real danger is not merely the existence of alcohol. It is the existence of a system in which alcohol is officially prohibited but economically available through hidden channels, where the state loses regulatory control, and consumers lose protection. That is the paradox of the NLTP Act. Today, the ban remains visible in the law, while the business continues to operate in the shadows. The future of the policy should therefore be determined neither by moral panic nor by economic expediency, but by evidence, public health, institutional accountability and an honest assessment of what the law has actually achieved or failed.
