A community based world
Introduction: Why the Current Order Has Failed
Modern states claim to guarantee justice, yet statistics betray the illusion. In the United States, fewer than 46% of violent crimes and 36% of property crimes are reported to police. Of those reported, only about half are solved, and most victims receive no restitution. Courts stretch cases for months; prisons consume over $80 billion annually yet leave two-thirds of released prisoners re-arrested within three years.
The problem is structural. Priorities are set far from where harm occurs. Police serve political managers, not citizens. Courts prize procedure over resolution. Punishments are hidden, making them meaningless as deterrents. If justice is measured by speed, certainty, and prevention, the state fails. History suggests another path: laws of the community, forged from reputation, shame, and collective enforcement.
I. The Freelance Police Model
Today’s police answer upward to bureaucracy. Imagine instead licensed, bonded freelance officers, hired directly by neighborhoods. Contracts define duties, milestones, and performance measures: “reduce gang activity within 90 days,” “cut nuisance calls in half,” “patrol routes within 5 minutes of reports.” Payment depends on results.
Markets reveal efficiency. In the private security sector, already worth $240 billion globally, client contracts directly shape priorities. The same model, applied to certified officers, makes loyalty flow outward to communities.
Risks are real: wealthy districts could outbid poor ones, officers might take bribes, or prolong problems to keep contracts alive. Safeguards — liability insurance, rotation across neighborhoods, transparent performance ledgers — limit corruption. The upside is sharp: police performance tied not to politics but to visible results on the street.
II. The Assembly of Priorities
Every neighborhood holds regular assemblies where residents list their top concerns. Aggregated rankings produce a priority map. A block plagued by gangs ranks suppression first; another near failing schools elevates education safety. Officers and resources follow the map.
This echoes the Athenian ekklesia, where citizens voted on war and law directly. Today, it would mean gang houses shut down because neighbors demanded it, not because city hall staged a press conference.
The strength is clarity: people see their votes become action. The danger is majority tyranny — assemblies could scapegoat minorities. A rights charter, enforced by a rotating oversight council, ensures priorities stay within bounds. The principle remains: justice begins with listening to the harmed.
III. The Tribunal of Punishments
Minor crimes vanish into today’s courts, resurfacing months later with diluted punishment. Community tribunals move quickly: petty theft or vandalism handled in two weeks, not two years. Panels of neighbors impose restitution, supervised labor, curfews, or local exile.
The medieval tithing system worked similarly — ten households guaranteed each other’s behavior. Pressure from neighbors deterred crime more effectively than prisons. Research backs this: restorative justice programs show recidivism reductions of 27%, compared to traditional sentencing.
The weakness is mob passion. Rotating panels and trained facilitators prevent abuse. The gain is immediacy: offenders face their victims, and consequences arrive while memory is fresh.
IV. The Market of Trust
Crime feeds on anonymity. A community reputation ledger strips it away. Betray contracts, defy tribunal rulings, or harm neighbors, and your score collapses. Employers refuse to hire; merchants won’t trade. Reputation becomes law.
The model already works online. On eBay, sellers with poor ratings lose up to 90% of business. Uber drivers below a 4.6 rating risk deactivation. The Hanseatic League blacklisted cheaters centuries ago; one bad entry meant ruin across Europe.
Errors are inevitable, so ledgers must allow repair: restitution, apologies, and clean periods rebuild standing. But the principle is sound — social death punishes harder than prison walls.
V. The Circle of Exile
Prisons drain billions and harden criminals. Communities need a sharper tool: targeted exile. Offenders are banned from neighborhoods, schools, or markets for set periods. Ancient Athens practiced ostracism; modern neighborhoods could enforce digital geofences or access bans.
Exile terrifies because it strikes identity. Surveys show that social isolation increases mortality risk by 26% — humans fear exclusion more than pain. For repeat offenders or violent predators, exile delivers swift removal without endless costs.
Weakness: exiles may regroup elsewhere. Solution: inter-community pacts share information, and return requires proof of restitution. Exile is not final, but the road back is steep.
VI. Punishment as Theater
Punishment hidden is punishment wasted. The Romans crucified publicly to engrave fear; medieval stocks humiliated thieves before crowds. Today’s punishments, buried in paperwork, deter no one.
A community system restores punishment as spectacle. Vandals repaint walls in bright vests marked “Restoring What I Broke.” Shoplifters restock shelves under merchant supervision. Restitution ceremonies make offenders apologize publicly.
Data shows why this works. Studies of “swift, certain, and visible” sanctions — like Hawaii’s HOPE probation program — cut recidivism by 55% compared to standard probation. Visibility matters more than severity. People fear humiliation and certainty more than distant threats of prison.
VII. Strategy: Aligning Law with Human Nature
Law succeeds when it matches human instincts. People do not obey abstractions; they obey certainty, speed, visibility, and social judgment.
Assemblies make priorities real.
Tribunals impose swift, personal sanctions.
Ledgers weaponize trust.
Exile removes predators.
Freelance officers enforce contracts.
Theater engraves lessons into memory.
Together these mechanisms create a self-correcting ecology. Harsh but adaptive, participatory yet disciplined, it turns justice from illusion into lived experience.
Conclusion: Toward the Laws of the Community
Courts delay, prisons fail, and police chase politics. Communities can reclaim justice by layering assemblies, tribunals, trust markets, exile, spectacle, and freelance officers. Each checks the other; none can drift far without correction.
The laws of the state live on paper. The laws of the community live in fear, reputation, and belonging. These forces cut deeper because they are woven into the human soul — and unlike bureaucracy, they never sleep.
But there is also a higher promise. When justice is reclaimed by the people, it does more than deter crime. It teaches responsibility, it rewards courage, and it binds neighbors together in shared vigilance. Research confirms the effect: neighborhoods with strong local governance and watch systems experience 20–30% lower crime rates than comparable areas without them. Order is no longer something delivered from on high; it is something created and sustained by all. A community that governs its own justice is not only safer — it is stronger, prouder, and more free.