The obligation to aid and assist kinsmen beyond the third or fourth degree is problematic, and a question into which elements of personal interest enter to a great extent. One of the greatest sources of the power of the principal kadangyang lies in their ability to command the aid of their remote kin on account of their prestige and wealth and ability to dispense aid and favor.
There is also a class, small in number, corresponding somewhat to the “clients” of the chiefs of the ancient Gauls. This body is composed of servants who have grown up in the service and household of a master, and who have been well treated, and in times of need sustained and furnished with the things needful to Ifugao welfare; another division consists of those who habitually borrow or habitually rent from one who stands in the nature of an overlord to them. This class is most numerous in districts where most of the lands are in the hands of a few men. The duty of the clients to their lord and of their lord to them seems to be about the same as those duties have always been in a feudal society; that is to say, the duty of rendering mutual aid and assistance.
The first step in any legal procedure is to consult with one’s kin and relatives. In initiating steps to assess a fine or collect an indemnity, the next step is the selection of a monkalun.
The Monkalun or Go-between
125. Nature of his duties.—The office of the monkalun is the most important one to be found in Ifugao society. The monkalun is a whole court, completely equipped, in embryo. He is judge, prosecuting and defending counsel, and the court record.[2] His duty and his interest are for a peaceful settlement. He receives a fee, called lukba or liwa. To the end of peaceful settlement he exhausts every art of Ifugao diplomacy. He wheedles, coaxes, flatters, threatens, drives, scolds, insinuates. He beats down the demands of the plaintiffs or prosecution, and bolsters up the proposals of the defendants until a point be reached at which the two parties may compromise. If the culprit or accused be not disposed to listen to reason and runs away or “shows fight” when approached, the monkalun waits till the former ascends into his house, follows him, and, war-knife in hand, sits in front of him and compels him to listen.
The monkalun should not be closely related to either party in a controversy. He may be a distant relative of either one of them. The monkalun has no authority. All that he can do is to act as a peace making go-between. His only power is in his art of persuasion, his tact and his skillful playing on human emotions and motives. Were he closely related to the plaintiff, he would have no influence with the defendant, and mutatis mutandis the opposite would be true.
Ultimately in any state the last appeal is to a death-dealing weapon. For example, in our own society a man owes a debt which he does not pay. Action is brought to sell his property to pay the debt. If he resists, he is in danger of death at the hands of an agent of the law. Much more is he in danger if he resists punishment for crime. The same is true in the Ifugao society. The lance is back of every demand of importance, and sometimes it seems hungry.
An Ifugao’s pride as well as his self-interest—one might almost say his self-preservation—demands that he shall collect debts that are owed him, and that he shall punish injuries or crimes against himself. Did he not do so he would become the prey of his fellows. No one would respect him. Let there be but one debt owed him which he makes no effort to collect; let there be but one insult offered him that goes unpunished, and in the drunken babbling attendant on every feast or social occasion, he will hear himself accused of cowardice and called a woman.
On the other hand, self-interest and self-respect demand that the accused shall not accept punishment too tamely or with undue haste, and that he shall not pay an exorbitant fine. If he can manage to beat the demands of the complainant down below those usually met in like cases, he even gains in prestige. But the monkalun never lets him forget that the lance has been scoured and sharpened for him, and that he walks and lives in daily danger of it.