Therapist Jay is at the centre of a growing controversy over professional ethics, legality, and civic responsibility.
In a case that has quietly stirred public debate beneath the surface of Dimapur’s civic life, a local practitioner widely known as “Therapist Jay” is at the centre of a growing controversy over professional ethics, legality, and civic responsibility. While earlier narratives portrayed him as a victim of bureaucratic obstruction, recent disclosures suggest a more troubling picture: Therapist Jay has allegedly been operating a private clinic for over five years at both Chümoukedima and Dimapur without a valid trade license or legal registration.
At the heart of this revelation is an unlikely protagonist, Max Naga, who has been raising persistent questions about the legality and public safety implications of such unregulated medical practice. Far from being a personal vendetta, Max Naga’s campaign appears to reflect a principled commitment to regulatory integrity, legal transparency, and the defense of public trust.
This controversy thus invites a deeper inquiry into a different question than previously assumed: not why no legal action has been taken against others, but rather, why no legal scrutiny has been applied to an individual allegedly operating outside the bounds of law for half a decade.
1. The Legal Landscape: Licensure as Public Mandate, Not Personal Preference.
Professional licensing, particularly in therapeutic and clinical sectors, is not merely a bureaucratic formality, it is a legal and ethical safeguard meant to protect public health, ensure minimum standards, and distinguish trained practitioners from self-appointed ones. In Nagaland, as in other states, the issuance of a trade license is governed by municipal regulations and oversight from appropriate medical boards or professional associations.
The fact that Therapist Jay has allegedly run his clinic without proper licensing for over five years is not only a violation of municipal law, but a potential breach of public trust. The absence of formal oversight raises legitimate questions about client safety, treatment efficacy, malpractice liability, and taxation.
That such a practice could continue for years without regulatory intervention points to an alarming failure of institutional enforcement mechanisms, as well as societal indifference to the rule of law.
2. The Role of Whistleblowing: Max Naga and the Fight for Civic Accountability.
Against this backdrop, Max Naga’s intervention must be viewed not as a personal dispute, but as a public act of civic responsibility. By drawing attention to the unlicensed operations of Therapist Jay, Max has invited the community and authorities to re-examine the blurry boundaries between compassion and compliance, between entrepreneurial zeal and legal obligation.
In environments where tribal loyalty and personal networks often override formal governance, whistleblowers face immense pressure, not only from the individuals they expose but from the very structures that should support them. Yet, if the allegations are accurate, then Max Naga’s efforts represent a crucial attempt to defend the integrity of the public sphere and restore accountability to local governance.
3. The Ethics of Therapy: A Question of Competence and Consent.
The therapeutic profession, whether physical, psychological, or alternative, demands not only skill but a framework of ethical legitimacy. Without regulation, it becomes impossible to verify qualifications, ensure informed consent, or address grievances. Clients may unknowingly place themselves at risk, assuming legitimacy where there is none.
If indeed Jay has operated without licenses, it raises ethical concerns about the boundaries of his practice, the nature of services rendered, and the psychological or physical outcomes for clients who may have lacked recourse. In such cases, even good intentions are not enough. Legality exists to prevent harm, not merely to delay it.
4. The Municipal Silence: DMC’s Dormancy and the Cost of Non-Enforcement.
While the focus has shifted toward Therapist Jay’s actions, the Dimapur Municipal Council (DMC) also bears responsibility. For a clinic to function openly for five years without regulatory clearance reflects administrative lapses and systemic negligence.
Whether due to understaffing, political hesitancy, or internal disorganisation, the DMC’s failure to act undermines public confidence in municipal governance. It also sets a dangerous precedent: that rule-abiding citizens are penalised with red tape, while violators are protected by invisibility.
5. The Danger of Weaponised Victimhood: Recasting the Narrative.
What makes this case especially complex is the manner in which public sympathy can be swayed by narratives of victimhood, often without careful scrutiny of facts. The initial portrayal of Therapist Jay as a victim of influential suppression has, in light of recent revelations, begun to unravel.
There is a moral hazard in allowing illegal practice to be reframed as victimhood, particularly when those raising genuine concerns are cast as oppressors. This dynamic not only distracts from core legal issues but discourages others from speaking out against malpractice or illegality in their own communities.
Conclusion: Reclaiming the Moral Centre of Civic Life.
The unfolding case of Therapist Jay and Max Naga is not merely a story about two individuals, it is a window into larger institutional failures, civic decay, and the contested meaning of justice in contemporary Nagaland. It forces us to ask whether we are more loyal to personal networks than public norms, more sympathetic to charisma than to the rule of law.
In defending the legitimacy of law, Max Naga may be doing what public institutions have failed to do: upholding the right to question, to demand accountability, and to protect the public good even at personal cost.
A Call for Enforcement, Not Excuses. The Dimapur Municipal Council must now investigate the full scope of Therapist Jay’s operations and issue a public clarification. Law enforcement authorities must assess whether statutory violations have occurred. Civil society must reassert the difference between therapeutic compassion and regulatory compliance.
The law is not a weapon for the powerful, nor a shield for the popular. It is a structure meant to protect the vulnerable, reward the honest, and correct the unlawful. The question now is not whether legal action can be taken, but whether we still have the institutional courage and moral clarity to take it.
Vikiho Kiba