This is contemplation, etched not in stone, but in the brittle ink of finance and faith. This article seeks not to shatter the moral spire but to shed light on the stark reality of financial depletion.
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Note: This is contemplation, etched not in stone, but in the brittle ink of finance and faith. This article seeks not to shatter the moral spire but to shed light on the stark reality of financial depletion. We observe where the shadows thrive—the bootlegger’s gold that builds no bridge, the tax lost to Assam’s shore. This is a plea for measured light, a middle ground where morality finds an ethical collaborator and the economic stream flows not to syndicates, but to the state’s heart. Read this not as a decree of defeat, but as a vision for adaptation.
As Nagaland faces a modern fiscal crisis, the 37-year-old prohibition law stands as a wall between our past intentions and our future survival. Is it time to trade an unenforceable ban for an ethical, state-funded partnership with the Church?
Nagaland stands at a crossroads where the "moral spire" of our faith meets the "stark reality" of our empty treasury.
The Nagaland Liquor Total Prohibition (NLTP) Act of 1989 was a shield forged in a time of social crisis. Born from the courageous advocacy of the Naga Mothers’ Association and the NBCC; its intent was noble: to shield the Naga family from the scourge of addiction. But today, that shield is so brittle that it serves only to cast a shadow where the bootlegger thrives. We live in an economy where "dry" Nagaland is surrounded by the booming "wet" border markets of Assam. The question is no longer whether alcohol is present in our state—it is—but who profits from it?
The reality is visible to anyone traveling our border roads. From Khatkhati to Lahorijan, a booming economy thrives on the "leakage" of Naga wealth. While we maintain a "dry" status on paper, hundreds of crores of rupees flow out of our state annually. This is capital flight in its purest form—Naga money is building Assam’s schools and bridges, while our own government struggles to pay salaries or maintain roads. Worse yet, the ban has birthed a "Syndicate Raj." By forcing alcohol underground, we haven't eliminated it; we have simply removed quality control and handed the profits to illegal syndicates. Our youth are not being protected; they are being exposed to spurious, unregulated "deadly" liquor that fills our hospital beds.
The "Moral Cess": A New Covenant
The debate has long been a binary war: The Church vs. The State. This is a false choice. We do not need to choose between morality and money; we need an Ethical Collaboration.
Imagine a transition from Total Prohibition to Smart Regulation, governed by a "Social Impact Fund." Under this model, the state doesn't just collect tax; it "earmarks" a significant portion of excise revenue specifically for faith-based and community-led rehabilitation.
In this framework, the Church’s role evolves. Instead of acting as a legislative enforcer—a task that has exhausted our police force—the Church becomes the Healer-in-Chief. With state-guaranteed funding, the Church can operate world-class de-addiction centers and youth life-skill programs. This is not a retreat for the Church; it is an advancement into a role of better-resourced ministry.
Lesson from Mizoram’s oscillation
Nagaland’s journey with prohibition closely mirrors that of Mizoram. In 1995, Mizoram implemented total prohibition, only to replace it with the MLPC Act in 2014. During those regulated years, the Mizoram government successfully captured nearly INR 60-70 crore annually in revenue—funds that were immediately injected into their state healthcare system.
However, in 2019, Mizoram reverted to prohibition due to social pressure. The lesson for Nagaland in 2026 is clear: Mizoram’s "see-saw" policy shows that abrupt, full-scale opening triggers social backlash. Therefore, Nagaland should not aim for a "Mizoram 2014" style total opening. Instead, we should adopt a Graded Approach—protecting the social fabric while slowly reclaiming the economy. Mizoram’s struggle proves that prohibition is not a permanent seal, but a policy that requires constant, honest re-evaluation as the economy evolves.
A Graded Vision
We need not open the floodgates overnight. A "Middle Path" offers a gradual, safe transition:
1. Heritage and Hospitality: Let us legalise our indigenous fruit wines. This empowers our farmers and turns Nagaland into a "Wine Tourism" destination, akin to the vineyards of Europe or Nashik, celebrating our local produce.
2. Statutory Oversight: Let the Church and Colony Authorities have a seat at the table. Grant them the legal power to audit licenses and enforce "No-Sale Zones" near schools and places of worship. This gives the community actual control, rather than the illusion of a ban.
3. Repatriating Wealth: By regulating sales at our borders, we bring the revenue back home. We turn "Black Money" into "Public Good.”
In concluding this contemplation, we must recognise that the NLTP Act of 1989 was never meant to be a stagnant law, but a protective shield. Today, that shield has grown heavy and porous.
To suggest a review of the Act is not to invite a "flood of vice" into our homes; it is an invitation to bring the shadows into the light. It is a call to take the power away from the bootlegger and return it to the community.
True morality does not hide behind a law that is broken a thousand times a day in the back alleys of our towns. True morality is found in Accountability. By transitioning to a regulated model, we are asking the State to be a responsible manager and the Church to be an empowered mentor.
Let us move forward with a new covenant: one where our borders are secure, our revenue stays home, and our faith is expressed not through the force of a ban, but through the strength of our character. Let us choose a path where Nagaland’s wealth builds Nagaland’s future. Let us choose reality, for only in reality we can truly begin to heal.
Aloto H Aye
Asuto village, Zunheboto