Hanso Chang
Tuensang
Nagaland is officially a dry State.
But if prohibition is meant to keep alcohol away from our communities, then a disturbing question must now confront every citizen, every institution and, most importantly, the Government:
How is suspected spurious liquor reaching our villages and towns?
The recent tragedy in Tuensang has brought that question to the forefront. At least 10 people have reportedly died over a period of three days, with suspected spurious liquor consumption being investigated as a possible cause. The Nagaland Police has issued a red alert and warned people against consuming suspected spurious liquor.
Behind those numbers, however, are not statistics.
They are families.
They are fathers, sons, daughters, brothers and sisters.
They are people whose sudden deaths have left families struggling to understand what happened.
Reports of individual family tragedies emerging from the affected area are particularly heartbreaking. Such accounts must be properly verified before being presented as established facts. But the broader tragedy cannot be ignored.
This is no longer simply a question of alcohol consumption.
It is a question of public safety.
If Nagaland is dry, how did the liquor get here?
This is perhaps the most uncomfortable question confronting us.
If the liquor involved was indeed illegally transported into Tuensang, then the people deserve to know where it came from and how it reached the affected communities.
Where was it manufactured?
Where did it enter Nagaland?
Which routes were used?
How was it transported?
Where was it stored?
Who distributed it?
Were there previous complaints?
Were there seizures or intelligence inputs?
And what happened at the various checkpoints and points of entry?
These questions are not accusations.
They are legitimate questions of public interest.
If prohibition is being enforced, there must be an effective mechanism to prevent dangerous illicit liquor from entering our communities.
And if such liquor is nevertheless reaching consumers, then something somewhere is failing.
The public deserves to know what that failure is.
“Moi toh najani” cannot be the answer
We cannot afford to respond with a collective “Moi toh najani” — “I don't know.”
This is not somebody else's problem.
It is not merely a Tuensang problem.
It is not merely an alcohol problem.
It is a Nagaland problem.
Every family has a stake in public safety.
Every parent has a reason to worry.
Every citizen has the right to ask whether the laws intended to protect society are actually protecting society.
And therefore, — it is completely legitimate for citizens to raise this matter before the higher authorities.
In fact, they should.
What does the Government say?
The Nagaland Liquor Total Prohibition Act, 1989 was introduced with the objective of prohibiting the manufacture, possession, sale and consumption of liquor in the State.
But after decades of prohibition, Nagaland must be courageous enough to ask whether the policy, in its present form, is achieving its intended objectives.
The Government has previously acknowledged that the NLTP issue involves enforcement challenges and wider social implications.
That discussion must now move beyond political statements.
It must involve evidence.
How many illegal liquor cases are being registered?
How much illicit liquor is being seized?
How effective are the enforcement mechanisms?
How much liquor continues to circulate despite prohibition?
How many people are being prosecuted?
And, most importantly, is prohibition reducing alcohol-related harm — or is it inadvertently creating a market for unregulated and potentially dangerous liquor?
These are questions worthy of serious examination.
Review the NLTP Act — but do it openly
If the Government believes that the NLTP Act is working, let the evidence demonstrate it.
If the Government believes that the Act needs strengthening, let the necessary reforms be discussed.
And if there is a serious case for reconsidering the prohibition framework itself, let that conversation happen openly.
But such a discussion should not take place behind closed doors.
The Church, Civil society, Tribal bodies Women's organisations, Youth organisations must have a voice.
Medical professionals and public-health experts must have a voice.
Law-enforcement agencies must have a voice.
And ordinary citizens must have a voice.
The future of alcohol policy in Nagaland should be based not merely on emotion, ideology or political convenience, but on evidence, public health, social realities and the safety of our people.
Dry State or dangerous underground market?
There is an uncomfortable paradox here.
A State can prohibit alcohol legally while an underground market continues to supply it illegally.
And an underground market has no responsibility to protect consumers.
It does not guarantee quality.
It does not guarantee safety.
It does not guarantee accurate labelling.
It does not guarantee accountability.
This is where the greatest danger lies.
When people consume alcohol from an unregulated source, they may not know what they are actually consuming.
That is why the Tuensang tragedy should not simply result in another temporary crackdown.
It should trigger a comprehensive examination of the entire supply chain.
If illegal liquor is entering the State, authorities must identify and dismantle the networks bringing it in.
If there are enforcement gaps, they must be closed.
If officials have failed in their responsibilities, accountability must follow.
And if anyone is found deliberately facilitating the illegal trade, the law must take its course.
Do not let Tuensang become just another headline.
The greatest injustice would be for these deaths to dominate the headlines for a few days and then disappear.
We have seen too many tragedies become news stories, only for the underlying questions to remain unanswered.
This time must be different.
Let there be a transparent investigation.
Let the source of the suspected spurious liquor be established.
Let the supply chain be traced.
Let enforcement failures, if any, be identified.
Let the families receive the support they need.
And let the Government give the people clear answers.
Because accountability does not mean blaming someone before an investigation is complete.
Accountability means having the courage to ask the right questions — and ensuring that those questions receive truthful answers.
A choice Nagaland cannot postpone forever.
Nagaland now faces a difficult conversation.
If we are going to call ourselves a dry State, then let us make the system genuinely effective.
Stop the illegal supply.
Strengthen enforcement.
Improve intelligence.
Secure vulnerable routes.
Test suspicious liquor.
Hold traffickers and distributors accountable.
Protect our communities.
But if, after careful examination, the Government concludes that the present prohibition framework is not achieving its intended purpose, then that reality too must be discussed honestly.
A possible regulatory framework should never mean encouraging alcohol consumption. It would require strict controls, quality standards, licensing, age restrictions, taxation, health safeguards and strong action against alcohol-related offences.
The point is not to promote drinking.
The point is to prevent people from dying because dangerous substances are being sold in an uncontrolled underground market.
This is the moment to speak. The Tuensang tragedy should force Nagaland to look into the mirror. Not tomorrow, not after another death.
But Now! we owe answers to the families who are grieving.
We owe protection to those who are still alive.
And we owe future generations a society brave enough to confront uncomfortable realities.
To all the believers across Nagaland: let us continue to pray for the bereaved families, for those who are battling illness and addiction, and for everyone affected by this tragedy.
Let us pray that those struggling with alcohol will turn away from destruction and walk towards a better path.
But prayer must walk alongside responsibility.
We must pray.
We must question.
We must investigate.
And we must act.
Because if Nagaland is truly a dry State, the people have every right to ask:
How did the contraband get here — and who is accountable?
