State, Society and Governance in Melanesia Project
Working Paper 00/1

LAW AND ORDER IN PAPUA NEW GUINEA: PERCEPTIONS AND MANAGEMENT STRATEGIES

Maev O’Collins*  

Introduction: Perceptions and Strategies
In Papua New Guinea, as in most countries throughout the world, individual and group perceptions of personal or property security risks, and the strategies adopted to minimise these risks, are diverse and multi-faceted. Many responses reflect the reality of law and order risks in a particular area, or for a particular group (women, strangers, the elderly, and the conspicuously wealthy). Other influences shape individual or group perceptions of the severity and prevalence of crime, and the choice of particular strategies to minimise risk. In addition to the social impact of crime, law and order problems have major political and economic consequences, at local, national and international levels.

Media reports of serious violent incidents, and stories told by intrepid visitors and those who have had the misfortune to become a victim of crime, add to a general image that the situation is 'out of control'. Yet, as I concluded in a recent paper (O'Collins 2000:31), 'we need to be able to stand back, to look at the positive, as well as the negative, aspects of the changing nature of society'. 

The purpose of this paper is not to analyse the level of crime, or the efficiency of the criminal justice system. Rather, the focus of the discussion will be on the varied responses and reactions to perceived law and order situations, and the strategies adopted to minimise personal, group or organisational risks by Papua New Guineans, expatriate residents, and short term visitors. 

As with all broad-brush discussions of social issues, there is no neat statement, which can adequately encompass all the concerns of individuals or groups, and the particular strategies they adopt in the face of perceived risk. Often, the fear of crime may be as potent a force as the actual level of crime in a community. In outlining a crime prevention strategy which focuses on government, police and community ‘working together’ the Western Australian Crime Prevention Bureau (1997:3) noted that Western Australians were increasingly concerned ‘at the unacceptable rate of property crime and the rising level of violent crime. At the same time ‘fear of crime, as much as crime itself, is steadily causing much apprehension in our community and is eroding the quality of life' (ibid: 4). One response to these fears has been to develop a network of state and community initiatives aimed at crime prevention. [1] 

In recent years, there is some evidence of a shift in the law and order debate from an attempt to understand and mitigate the socio-economic causes of crime, to an emphasis on rational choice and a rational offender. It is therefore not surprising that another response to the fear of rising crime has been to consider harsher penalties and that discussions of mandatory sentencing in Western Australia and the Northern Territory reflect the notion that the offender knows full well the consequences of his or her actions. Considering the politics of crime prevention, O’Malley (1997:259) notes that:

In Papua New Guinea a shift in the law and order debate towards a more ‘rational’ approach also suggests a return to more punitive and mechanical crime prevention strategies. But, while there is value in considering legal, policing and correctional strategies aimed at minimising opportunities to commit crime, and increasing the risk for the offender of detection and punishment, this should not be at the expense of community, non-government, and other initiatives. 

There is also a problem when law and order debates focus on particular forms of crime and violence. Domestic violence and sexual harassment have often been overlooked or treated as somehow different from ‘real’ crime against person or property. And, as the recent debates on mandatory sentencing for petty theft, compared to sentences for large scale white collar crime have shown, perceptions of what constitutes crime differ markedly throughout many societies. The violence of poverty and official neglect  - whether in indigenous communities in Australia, in settlements and villages throughout Papua New Guinea, or in urban areas of Fiji, Solomon Islands, or Vanuatu may be completely ignored. Yet, as is clear from poverty surveys conducted in Papua New Guinea, Fiji and Vanuatu, these problems are often interrelated (see O'Collins 1999). 

As O’Malley cautions, the ‘model of the rational offender who calculates the risks and potential benefits before offending’, while popular with those who are seeking retribution, may have very limited currency in the real world of unemployment, dislocation and dysfunction. 

Nonetheless, even a cursory examination of law and order in Papua New Guinea suggests that, although the absolute accuracy of criminal statistics may be questioned, crime and violence (however defined) are major and increasing concerns. Since Independence in 1975, a number of reports and conferences have considered the social, economic, and political consequences of crime. Attempts to find answers and solutions have ranged from a focus on legal sanctions and increased police, justice and correctional efficiency, to an emphasis on the changing social and economic contexts in which crimes are committed.[2] 

Ten years after Independence, Morauta (1986:13-15) pointed to the ‘weakness of the state’ as a contributory factor which had to be taken into account in any analysis of law and order in the rapidly changing Papua New Guinea society. More recently, the interrelationships between deteriorating social conditions, crime and problems of governance were outlined by Standish (1999:9-10):

Given this lack of confidence in the capacity of the state, it is not surprising that recent non-government and community initiatives have received greater attention and support from international aid agencies. Yet, the fragmented and situation-specific nature of many of these projects means that they may not provide complete answers for what must be a shared government/NGO/community responsibility. As an AusAID funded survey of community initiatives (1997:9) cautioned: 'While some of these programs are showing promising results, they are severely constrained by funding limitations and increasing frustration of staff.' 

At the same time, the positive and courageous responses of NGOs and local community groups to problems of violent ethnic conflict have shown just what can be done in difficult and dangerous situations. Examples from Bougainville, Solomon Islands and Fiji, illustrate how much can be accomplished by civil society in times of crisis. These efforts, and the more mundane but no less valuable work being undertaken in urban settlements and villages throughout Papua New Guinea, need to be recognised and supported. They provide significant alternatives to the harsher and more punitive approaches which may be proposed by politicians and law enforcement agencies.[3] 

Law and Order: meeting violence with violence?
Since early colonial contacts, accounts of explorations in Papua New Guinea, and advice to travellers and those about to take up residence in Papua New Guinea, pointed to the dangers and uncertainties which awaited the unwary outsider and outlined the steps which should be taken to avoid such dangers. Strategies employed to overcome real or perceived problems often emphasized the value of harsh punitive measures and authoritarian stances as ways of minimising danger and maintaining control of unruly and potentially violent local residents. The fears of minority colonial enclaves surrounded by culturally different and dangerous ‘others’ were reflected in legislation such as the ‘White Woman’s Protection Ordinance’ enacted in Port Moresby in 1926 and in the use of physical punishment and the death penalty as means of pacification and crime control. [4] 

A similar and uncompromising ‘them’ and ‘us’ approach is clearly reflected in Mick Leahy’s accounts of contacts with Highlanders in the early 1930s. From his perspective: ‘there were no ethics of law and order other than force and the ability to use it’ (Leahy 1994:233). His reaction to the news of the murder of a missionary in 1935 was that this reflected a dangerously ‘soft’ approach, which would never work. 

'They [the missionaries] believe their own inherent kindliness and goodwill is telepathically transferable to primitive man, whose way of life from the beginning of time is completely foreign and whose values directly conflict with our centuries of civilized behaviour (ibid.: 236). 

It could be argued that these reactions merely reflect the attitudes of the time and should be viewed through the lens of history, rather than through modern, perhaps (although not necessarily) more enlightened perspectives. Yet, other early accounts show that reactions and responses to culturally different individuals and to potentially violent situations differed widely. An equally tough man such as Jim Taylor was able to modify his approaches when encountering these different cultures, and, despite the ambiguities of the relationships which were established, quickly came to value and appreciate his ‘beloved Highlanders’ (Gammage 1998:239). 

A much earlier, but very different reaction was recorded by the explorer Mikloucho-Maclay (1975:31ff.) when he described an encounter with nearby villagers in October 1871. After some reflection, he had decided not to take his revolver, as:

In the event he did encounter some uncertain behaviour when he entered the village. A spear narrowly missed his eye and the atmosphere was one of hostility and suspicion. He recorded that this made him glad that he had left his revolver at home as he was not sure he would react with such equanimity at a second attempt to intimidate him. He decided instead that the best move was to take a nap as: ‘If I was fated to be killed, then it was all the same whether I was standing, sitting or lying down on the mat, or in my sleep’ (p.33). What was most remarkable [and to my mind almost unbelievable] was that he did indeed manage to sleep for two hours. When he woke the atmosphere had eased somewhat and he was able to return to his host village without incident. 

More than a century later, a Papua New Guinean police officer recounted to me a similar situation when his patrol vehicle was surrounded by angry tribesmen whose village had been raided by police a few weeks earlier. They were armed with traditional weapons and homemade shotguns and clearly he was out-gunned, out-manoeuvred, and in grave danger. However, a member of the attacking party was a university student on vacation. He identified the police officer from a different ethnic group as a fellow student, and persuaded his hostile clan members to let him go. My informant commented that it was this cross-cultural friendship, established when he had undertaken a course at the University of Papua New Guinea, rather than harsher laws, a gun, or policing skills, which had saved his life. His comments echoed the conclusions of the final report of the Enga Law and Order Project (Wormsley and Toke 1985:70) that:

In the years since Independence, middle-class Papua New Guineans have begun, as Gewertz and Errington suggest (1999:102-119) to share with expatriates the sense of being ‘chronically vulnerable to criminal attacks’, and to demand that the Government and the police do more to protect them from criminals. Demands for tougher penalties are often most strident after a particularly violent incident. A report in the National (25/2/2000: Item 14) entitled ‘Medics back call for capital punishment’ stated that:

In 1926, when the White Woman’s Protection Ordinance was debated in the Assembly,  more moderate opinions were voiced, albeit in the minority, urging that the death sentence should not be mandatory, and that flogging was not the answer (Inglis 1974:59-88). Despite the calls for vengeance and retribution, similar counter arguments that violence and harsh mandatory sentences are not the solution continue to be put forward.[5] 

More holistic ways of dealing with law and order problems have been suggested as presenting a longer term and less divisive way of dealing with underlying causes of crime. Observers (Wormsley and Toke 1985, Dinnen 1999, Standish 1999), have pointed out that harsher minimum penalties, and attempts to strengthen police powers through curfews and ‘states of emergency’, do not address the social and economic problems and weaknesses in governance at the core of the breakdown in societal control. Even if improvements in the efficiency of state instrumentalities do occur, the search for solutions must take place at all levels of society. As the 1998 Papua New Guinea Human Development Report (GOPNG/UNDP 1999:141) concludes, a more effective criminal justice system is not sufficient on its own, but must be linked to improved educational and employment opportunities for young people and to greater community involvement. 

The Peace Foundation Melanesia (which developed out of the Foundation for Law, Order and Justice), provides another example of how community involvement can be harnessed to provide local level solutions to combat violence and crime, and promote restorative justice rather then vengeance and retribution. Courses in conflict resolution and negotiation skills have been provided for community leaders and others working with local groups. Since 1998, a number of training courses have also been conducted with combined police and community participation. The aim is to build bridges between the police and the community and create a climate of cooperation and restraint.[6] 

Nonetheless, frustration at the ineptitude or apparent helplessness of law and order authorities often leads to more direct and violent self-help actions by victims or potential victims. As Louise Morauta (1986:16) pointed out:

Highlighting and encouraging community and non-government initiatives in partnership with government action may also provide a counter to the ‘state versus people’ sentiments which have continued to plague Papua New Guinea. It is also encouraging to see that, even where initial reactions were for stronger punitive action, more reasoned responses are also given media publicity. A thoughtful article by senior lawyer and academic, Dr John Nonggorr was published in the National on 2 May 2000. He accepted that it was only natural that there would be calls for retribution and that politicians and members of the public also felt that the death penalty might deter those who committed violent crimes. However, he suggested caution in assuming that more severe legal penalties would deter all would-be offenders:

Pointing out that the problems of violence and crime have been the subject of many reports and implementation plans, he reminded readers that this was not a new issue, and that many sectors of the community were actively engaged in trying to find solutions. There were continuing problems in the coordination of these efforts and in strengthening consultation and cooperation between different organisations. During a period of transition when the clash between traditional and modern culture was creating particular pressures on society more innovative thinking would be required. 

Despite an earlier call by the President for the Government to immediately impose the death penalty for brutal crimes (‘Call goes up for PNG death penalty’, Canberra Times 21 April 2000:6), the National Council of Women later participated in a forum at the University of Papua New Guinea. This led to further consultations with those working in the community to combat violence, and follow-up meetings were scheduled (Report by Theresa Ame in The National 3 May 2000). It is clear that more moderate views are gaining some credence, even if there is still a tendency for politicians and community leaders to reject what are perceived to be ‘soft’ options or the unrealistic approaches of social theorists or activists. 

Calls for harsher penalties may also reflect a yearning to return to older ways of dealing with crime by reasserting traditional authority and leadership. In 1975, the establishment of Village Courts was seen as one way of returning social control to the community. However, this yearning to return to the past to find solutions for current problems is not without difficulty. Often Village Court officials have stressed harsh penalties, rather than mediation or conflict resolution and reference to custom and tradition can produce some curious results. 

I witnessed one such problem in 1976, when visiting Pangia in the Southern Highlands. Local village court magistrates had jailed several women who had been found smoking 'store-bought' cigarettes. The rationale was that this was prima facie evidence of adultery, as husbands would not have given their wives such cigarettes. Although the supervising magistrate overturned the decision and the women were released, other observers (Paliwala 1982 and Fitzpatrick 1982) noted continuing criticisms of a lack of evenhandedness, and bias against women. 

Younger members of the community may also ignore prescribed sanctions or leave the village and join the increasing flow of unemployed youth to towns. This poses an additional challenge to local and state authority as troublesome and disaffected youth are seen as a major cause of the deteriorating law and order situation in many villages and towns. At the same time: ’They are also an important source of support for politicians or aspiring local leaders, particularly those who are in opposition to the existing power structure’ (O’Collins 1993:245). 

Similar dilemmas have arisen in Bougainville, where the strengthening of traditional authority and of the role of the Council of Chiefs is seen as one way to counter burgeoning law and order problems. Regan (2000:291) points out that: ‘Underlying what is proposed is the assumption that by reverting to the ways of the past, present problems can be tackled’. Yet, as he concludes, tradition is not static. Neither is the society in which traditional solutions are to be implemented. This means that any effort to strengthen local level authority must be within a context of the changing nature of society. Attention must continue to be paid to the human rights of less traditionally powerful groups (women, youth, and people from other ethnic groups).  It is essential that   human rights are not constrained by a rigid and unbending adherence to what happened in the past, rather than what should happen in the future. 

The work of the Peace Foundation in Bougainville illustrates the way in which traditional and modern methods of restorative justice can be integrated. The 1999 'Report on Bougainville’ described how principles and processes of restorative justice were introduced into training courses. The emphasis was on involving Chiefs as well as delegated Mediators as (Peace Foundation Melanesia 1999b: 6):

At the same time, while traditional ways should be preferred to others, there was also an important place for the normal justice system, but there should be closer linkages between government, non-government and community agencies. In the view of the Peace Foundation team:

Managing reality: Anticipating and minimising risks
Although problems of violence and crime impact most severely on Papua New Guineans, it is the unpredictable and changing nature of Papua New Guinea society which often completely baffles newcomers. For some, even before they arrive, there may be stories of  dangers lurking on every corner, and of the need to be forever vigilant. Others know little or nothing about the country in which they will travel, or take up temporary residence. While individual circumstances may differ, practical advice on how to minimise security risks would seem to be generally desirable. At the same time, what appears balanced from one perspective may appear hysterical and alarmist from another. 

In the years prior to and after Independence, profound and rapid social, economic and political changes to Papua New Guinea society make the attitudes implicit in earlier  advisory instructions seem quaint and completely out-of-date. But old attitudes have persisted, even if couched in more circumspect language. Often it is not what is included, but what is left out that is instructive.

Criminals and strangers who would do one harm or steal one’s property have almost always been seen as Papua New Guineans. But even in pre-Independence Port Moresby there could be some surprises. In August 1968, the South Pacific Post (21/8/68:3) quoted a warning from then Police Commissioner Cole that a large percentage of the criminal class were tradesmen being recruited from Australia to cope with the rapidly expanding building programme. ‘Mr Cole said many of these tradesmen embarked on a career of break and enter soon after arriving in the Territory’. Regrettably for those who may object to the racially focussed perception of the ‘criminal classes’ this seems to have been an unusual and temporary problem. With a few dramatic exceptions, most expatriate criminals tend to be involved in white-collar crime and fraud, rather than offences which threaten individual security. In the 1980s, advice on ‘security’ given to newcomers by the firm Touche Roche (1985) reflected the sharp increase in car theft and other crimes against property.

Petty theft is a problem in most centres, especially Port Moresby and Lae, with the emphasis on pilfering of cash, liquor, food, electrical goods, etc. Standard precautions include deadlocks on doors, bars or mesh on windows, security fencing and lighting, watchmen and/or guard dogs. Car theft is rife in Port Moresby.

It was noteworthy that the advice was couched in neutral non-specific terms. One might well have asked why such precautions were necessary to deal with ‘petty’ theft but it may have been felt that more graphic warnings of violent crime would only serve to ‘frighten the horses’. There was no suggestion that newcomers could learn a great deal and gain advice from Papua New Guinean colleagues and others in the wider community.  An implicit assumption was that the only nationals likely to lawfully enter the newcomer’s premises were domestic servants or watchmen.

In a recent American State Department guide to personal security in Papua New Guinea (c2000 USA Department of State) a very different, if rather daunting, approach was taken. Pointing out that, despite the unreliability of statistics, there was a serious threat of violent crime in many parts of Papua New Guinea, it warned all visitors to take precautions to minimize risk. However, throughout this advisory guide, mention was also frequently made of the value of obtaining advice from others with more expert knowledge of a particular area, and of travelling with local leaders, officials, other knowledgeable individuals, and national or expatriate colleagues. The guide concludes:

Nonetheless, it is these newcomers, and in particular unaware naïve newcomers, who now place an added burden of responsibility on local residents. The somewhat tortured account of the experience of one female volunteer assigned to work in Enga Province illustrates vividly the need for a good system of selection and briefing of outsiders coming to work in Papua New Guinea. She had no knowledge or experience of the country before taking up the position and arrived in Wabag completely unprepared. Willingly or unwillingly, local colleagues had to become her security advisers and absorb her resentment at suddenly finding that her freedom of movement had to be curtailed.

Most Papua New Guineans have developed a range of responses and strategies to minimise personal, family or group risks. In some cases these are just accepted, as part of normal day-to-day living requirements and the need for members of the family and the wider network of friends to look out for each other. While security measures may include many of those recommended by Touche Ross and the USA State Department Bureau of Consular Affairs, Papua New Guineans know that family and community awareness and support are essential if they are to cope with even minor law and order incidents.

All these strategies have costs as well as benefits. The security value of inter-dependence on members of one’s extended family may be offset by the economic and social stresses involved in overcrowded houses and the need to ‘turn a blind eye’ to unsociable or illegal behaviour. If social gatherings and celebrations cannot be scheduled during daylight hours, all guests may have to stay the night, whatever the cost. Young working women or students often need male protection. Sometimes this means that unsatisfactory or violent relationships are formed, and endured, as the alternative is no protection at all.

At the same time, family and community efforts to work together to address problems and strengthen social cohesiveness has had very positive spin-offs. Often these new solutions to old problems reflect an ability ‘draw upon the best from indigenous and foreign traditions and deploy them in creative ways’ (Dinnen 1999:71). The AusAID (1997) survey of community projects documents many potentially valuable examples of this integration of the old and the new. In Enga, a recently developed church and community ‘partnership for peace' (Lacey 1998), may also have had some unexpected spin-offs. Newspaper reports of the 1999-2000 Christmas/New Year period noted that Enga had had a comparatively peaceful period, although there were still some law and order problems. A somewhat curious sign of progress towards crime minimisation was the report of an incident, where the Catholic priest active in the conflict mediation project had his car taken by a group searching for their enemies. However, he was unharmed, and the car was quickly returned, apparently undamaged.

Conclusion: risk management in a perplexing society
As papers presented at a conference on 'Crime and the Bilateral Relationship' illustrate (Boeha and McFarlane 2000), the law and order situation in Papua New Guinea has national, bi-lateral and international implications. Given these problems, the anger of many Papua New Guineans against politicians and state instrumentalities and their distress at ‘the big iniquitous events' (Baranay op.cit. 255), are understandable, but may be overlooked by outsiders preoccupied with their own security problems. At the same time, local level community based solutions, and small but significant successes do not receive as much publicity as negative incidents.

Reports of the work of the Peace Foundation Melanesia in Bougainville (1999b), West Taraka, Lae, and among the Toaripi in Port Moresby and the Gulf Province (Howley 1999a and 1999b), illustrate how local communities can develop alternative strategies to manage conflict, and to begin to address the causes and consequences of crime. These reports also describe the very real barriers which remain, and which must be overcome if communities are to rebuild trust and confidence. Nevertheless, when a start is made, even those who are initially dubious have become more supportive. After one village training course in mediation and conflict resolution skills, it was noted (Howley 1999a: 6) that:

Similar work is being undertaken by the ‘Partners for Peacemaking’ project in Enga (Lacey 1998). Even if these seem to be only small steps towards a more just society, it is important to recognise, document, and encourage the activities undertaken by some communities, and support these and similar initiatives. The focus at the recent symposium on 'Conflict and Peacemaking in the Pacific' was on recent conflicts, and the work of the Solomon Islands Women for Peace Group, the Fiji National Council of Women and the Bougainville Leitana Nehan Women's Development Agency. Once the immediate crises are resolved, their skills and commitment, and those of other similar groups, could again be mobilised to achieve a more peaceful and just civil society.

It may be as difficult for members of a society, as for expatriate observers, to accept that the road to a better future has many twists and turns and that surviving the journey has to take up so much time and energy. But, just as O’Malley cautions against the idea of a rational offender weighing up risks and benefits, it would be equally foolish to think of risk minimisation as representing a rational and well-thought-out basket of strategies. Responses and reactions may be just as opportunistic and unexpected as crime itself, and the rational victim or potential victim may be just as absurd a notion as that of the rational offender. In his call for more reasoned responses, Nonggorr concludes:

Current attempts to encourage lateral thinking and to see how restoring the balance may involve both offender and victim, as individuals, as members of families and as a community, may not solve every problem. The promotion of conflict resolution, mediation, compensation and other elements in the restorative justice equation can only achieve long term success within a cooperative and collaborative climate where formal and informal law and order agencies work together. And, even more problematically, poverty, unemployment and increasing inequality must be addressed if there is to be a hope of building a more secure and peaceful society. The resulting confusion of voices reflecting different perspectives and promoting different solutions is not at all surprising. This is because, as Sean Dorney (1990:318), sums up his reflections on post-Independence Papua New Guinea, there are no neat answers.

It is this search for better understanding that continues to engage many Papua New Guineans and other outside observers seeking to find ways to prevent or minimise crime and so achieve a more peaceful and productive future. 

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• Copyright Maev O'Collins 2000.
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