Free The World Until Yesterday: What Can We Learn from Traditional Societies? by Jared Diamond Page B

differences in who handled the negotiation and who made the payments, the compensation process if the company hadn’t been involved would have unfolded much as it actually did.
What the state did
    The chain of events that I recounted is an example of how traditional New Guinea mechanisms can deal peacefully with a loss suffered by people at the hands of others. It contrasts with how Western state systems of justicedeal with such losses. In the case of Billy and Malo, the response of the Papua New Guinea state was that the police did not concern themselves with the grieving or vengeful feelings of Billy’s relatives but did charge Malo with dangerous driving. Although Billy’s family, including his uncle Genjimp, who had actually been present at the accident scene, didn’t blame Malo’s driving, the police nevertheless claimed that Malo had been driving too fast. For many months Malo remained in his village, except for when he came into town to talk to the police. That’s because Malo was still afraid of possible retaliation by hot-headed young lowlanders. Malo’s fellow villagers remained alert and ready to protect him in case of such an attack.
    After the initial police hearing, several months passed until the second hearing, at which Malo was ordered to come into town twice a week to report to the traffic officer while waiting for his case to come up for trial. Each such reporting visit ended with Malo waiting in the traffic office for between half a day and a full day. Malo’s driving license was taken away from him at the second hearing. Because Malo’s job with the company was as a driver, the loss of his license also cost Malo his job.
    The dangerous-driving case against Malo finally came up for trial a year and a half later. During that time, Malo continued to live in limbo in his village, unemployed. When Malo did appear at court on the appointed date for trial, it turned out that the responsible judge was busy with a conflicting obligation, and the trial date had to be rescheduled for three months later. Again on that rescheduled second date, the judge was unable to be present, and another trial date was set three months later. That third date and still another trial date had to be postponed because of further problems involving the judge. Finally, on the fifth date set for trial, now two and a half years after the accident, the judge did appear, and the case was heard. But the police called by the prosecutor did not appear, and so the judge had to dismiss the case. That ended the state’s involvement with the matter of Billy and Malo. Lest you think that such no-shows and postponements mark the Papua New Guinea judicial system as uniquely inefficient, a close friend of mine recently on trial in Chicago experienced a similar course and outcome of his criminal proceedings.
New Guinea compensation
    The traditional compensation process, illustrated by the story of Billy and Malo, has as its aims the dispute’s speedy peaceful resolution, emotional reconciliation between the two sides, and restoration of their previous relationship. This sounds simple, natural, and appealing to us, until we reflect how fundamentally it differs from the aims of our state systems of justice. Traditional New Guinea didn’t possess a state system of justice, a state government, a centralized political system, or professional leaders and bureaucrats and judges exercising decision-making powers and claiming a monopoly on the right to use force. States have their own separate interests in settling disputes and administering justice among their citizens. Those state interests don’t necessarily coincide with the interests of either participant in a dispute. Traditional New Guinea justice is, instead, of the do-it-yourself sort, arranged by the disputants themselves and by their respective supporters. The compensation process is one prong, the peaceful one, of the two-pronged system of traditional dispute resolution. The other prong (