Inarguably, alcoholism is a major issue in Nagaland—probably in several other Northeastern states as well. In fact, it is a global issue for which no one has yet found a definitive solution. Therefore, it is pertinent to ask whether imposing a blanket prohibition is the answer.
At least the Church in Nagaland believes so. Decades ago, it pressured the state government to impose prohibition, resulting in the enactment of the Nagaland Liquor Total Prohibition Act (NLTP), 1989. Consequently, Nagaland has officially and technically remained under prohibition for thirty-six long years. Unofficially, however, the situation is entirely different.
Nagaland is not the only state in the Northeast under prohibition. Mizoram and Manipur are also under prohibition, while Gujarat elsewhere in the country follows a similar policy. In Nagaland and Mizoram, the respective Churches are the principal proponents of prohibition; in Manipur, it is largely women who have demanded it. Undoubtedly, prohibition curbs the sale of alcohol to some extent. Yet, given the continuous reports of unabated smuggling, sale, and consumption of alcohol, it is difficult to assess how far consumption or alcoholism has actually declined.
As far as Nagaland is concerned, it is doubtful whether the Church ever had statistics on alcohol sale and consumption before and after prohibition. While statistics are not always the most reliable tools for drawing conclusions, they do serve as indicators of prevalence—whether of alcoholism, crimes against women, poverty, unemployment, or other social issues. It is equally doubtful whether the government has, or ever had, such data. Consequently, even today, we do not really know how rampant alcohol smuggling, sale, and consumption are.
There is no denying that alcoholism devastates families economically, physically, emotionally, and psychologically. It also erodes the social, cultural, and economic fabric of society. However, it is imperative to draw a clear distinction between alcoholics and social drinkers. Not everyone who consumes alcohol is an alcoholic. Moreover, alcohol consumption has traditionally been part of our food culture. Indigenous brews were prepared at home using rice, millet, tapioca, and other grains. It is difficult to pinpoint when home-brewed alcohol became commercialized—if it was not always so—even during the pre-Christian era. Alcoholics existed then too, but indisputably, not everyone in traditional Naga society was an alcoholic.
With time, Indian Made Foreign Liquor (IMFL) was introduced. Yet, even today, it can be asserted that not everyone who drinks in modern Naga society is an alcoholic.
It is often said that IMFL was introduced in Nagaland in the mid-to-late 1950s—primarily rum—to lure underground members to come overground, a euphemism for surrender. Whether or not this claim is entirely accurate is open to conjecture. However, since traditional Naga society had no prior knowledge of IMFL, it must have been imported and introduced during our “modern” history, with the full knowledge—if not the tacit approval—of the government. If the British introduced IMFL, the Indian government could have curbed its import after Independence. The fact that it did not lends some credence to this narrative.
Yes, alcoholism destroys family life and leads to violence and crimes against women and children. Disturbingly, such violence continues even after nearly four decades of prohibition. Yet, the Church—which demanded prohibition and continues to vehemently oppose its repeal—has not publicly taken steps to provide succour to families, especially women and children, who suffer alcohol-induced violence. Nor has it consistently condemned such violence.
Despite the National Crime Records Bureau’s findings that Nagaland is among the safest states in India, realities on the ground suggest otherwise. Police reports and women’s organisations increasingly point to a rise in crimes against women—facts prominently highlighted by local media. The Church has yet to respond publicly to these revelations, even in widely reported cases of rape and murder. All this, unfolding under Church-backed prohibition, suggests an institution living in ivory towers, viewing society through puritanical and parochial lenses.
It must also be acknowledged that not all violence against women and children—including domestic violence—is committed by alcoholics. Such crimes are fundamentally patriarchal, rooted in power, control, fear, and domination. These are the issues the Church ought to confront, regardless of whether alcohol is involved.
Another often-ignored aspect is the psychological impact of living in a violence-ridden, corruption-plagued society—one undergoing rapid and disorienting political, economic, social, and cultural change. Traditional values persist, while our education system remains ill-equipped to help people navigate these transitions. Technology has compounded the crisis, blurring the line between empowering information and enslaving influence. While the world has drawn closer, we have paradoxically grown distant from ourselves.
This disconnection—amid widening inequalities, ostentatious displays of wealth, and erosion of respect for laws, institutions, and traditions—has driven many toward intoxicants as a means of escape, relief, and refuge.
The Church should perhaps reflect on why people consume alcohol, rather than focusing solely on why they should not. People will continue to drink and will find ways to access alcohol, rendering the prohibition debate endless—as it has been in Nagaland. While alcohol consumption is undeniably harmful, perhaps a more pragmatic path lies in controlled sale under strict regulation, alongside disciplined and responsible consumption, acknowledging that human nature is inherently uncontainable and guided by free will.
In any case, no Church, pastor, priest, or reverend can save souls. That remains the sole prerogative of divine grace. No institution or ideology should presume to replace the Almighty through moral absolutism or enforced prohibition.