2 though this is not to say they were leaderless (1974: 21-22).

People in Chuave also stressed that political competition varied in different clan-villages. Characterizations of political competition, however, are difficult to make. Three generalizations, still

applicable today, seem justified. First, big men could be associated with particular men's houses and still act as leaders of subclans and lineages. Second, where men of equal power existed they reached tacit or explicit agreements concerning their respective domains. Thus, rivals resided in different men's houses and, in exchanges, dominated only those distributions involving their own social groups. Third, young men first achieved recognition within their own lineage and men's house group and only later became authorized leaders of subclans or extended their authority to other men's houses.

This is not to suggest that political followings correspond to the segmentary structure of the clan; membership in particular units determines only the position of spokesman. Within the clan a man competes with other leaders for the allegiance of followers - first within his own men's house group and then more generally throughout

the village. In the past skill or bravery in warfare, physical

strength, ritual expertise in garden and pig magic all enhanced a man's reputation but were not sufficient by themselves to build a wide

following. Rather, the defining characteristics of a big man were and are oratorical skill, expertise as a distributor or manager of group valuables, and an ability to mediate disputes.

The relative importance of particular skills varies through time. In order to distribute valuables and to challenge the authority of an existing leader, a young man must contribute a large amount of his own personal wealth in given exchanges or sponsor his own ceremonies

(see chapter four). Once a big man has demonstrated his ability to provide a fair distribution of valuables and to act as group spokesman, however, he needs only to expend a minimum of his wealth and may even act in this capacity when he has not contributed to particular

exchanges. In the past young men also built reputations as fierce warriors. But an established big man's life, men say, was too

important to be risked and a big man rarely, if ever, participated in battle (cf. Bergmann 1971: 194; A. Strathern 1971: 75).

For central Simbu Brown stresses the 'emergent' big man, a leader who achieves his position through personal ambition (de Lepervanche 1973: 3). She argues that there were no 'hereditary positions' and few 'hereditary advantages' - a position she has recently reasserted despite Standish's evidence that the Simbu frequently state that 'in principle' leadership passed from father to son (Brown 1963: 5, 1979: 103; Standish 1978: 15). Salisbury has also explicitly denied

hereditary leadership in Siane though he describes a method of succession for the lineage head (1962: 22).

In Chuave a generalized ideology of hereditary leadership and a specific method of succession within the lineage endowed certain individuals with advantages most of their peers did not have and so enabled a few men an easier pathway to power. Burling states that in any hereditary system resulting in the acquisition of real power there are always ways of evading rules of hereditary accession (1974: 163). I would reverse this statement for Chuave. Achieved criteria are the basis for initial recruitment, but when ambitious men emerge appeals

to hereditary rules further bolster their status and power, and disadvantage their competitors. Furthermore, where no hereditary advantage exists, or conversely where people regard the advantaged few as inadequate leaders, men adjust beliefs about ascribed status to accommodate or rationalize post facto the status of the emergent big man. This contradiction is real: in Chuave an ideology of hereditary leadership exists, but the nature of succession is such that achieved and not ascribed traits predominate in the selection of leaders.

Brown (1979) correctly asserts that, because promising leaders may have died in warfare or because sons may claim that their fathers were big men when in fact they were not major leaders, it is difficult

to accurately test succession to big man status. Yet there is a growing body of evidence which stresses the importance of ascribed status in the selection of Melanesian leaders. Chowning (1979) and Hau'ofa (1981: 291) document many coastal and island examples of

leadership patterns that stress both ascribed and achieved

characteristics. While acknowledging the importance of competition and personal ambition in Tauade, Hallpike has gone so far as to label leaders chiefs, thus emphasizing the crucial importance of hereditary ideology (1977: 138-143). For Hagen, Andrew Strathern notes that sons

'emulate* their fathers, and that major big men favour the idea that their sons should replace them as leaders. Major big men are three times as likely to have fathers who were leaders rather than ordinary men. Yet minor big men in Hagen have no more than a fifty-fifty chance of being a leader's son. But Strathern believes achieved, not ascribed status is most important. He states that no hereditary rules exist and describes Hagen society as a meritocracy in which any advantage a son has stems from his aspirations to achieve a status similar to his father's and, perhaps, the 'head start' which a big man can give to his son, through using wealth or by ensuring that his son marries early in his political career (1971: 208-212).

In contrast the Kuraa do have a recognized hereditary rule. When the authorized leader of a sub-subclan (equivalent to the Chuave and Siane lineage) dies, his eldest son replaces him as leader (Reay 1959: 114). When a son was unable to replace his father because of

immaturity, lack of interest or for other reasons, the position passed to the leader's younger brother or to less closely related kinsmen within the sub-subclan (Reay 1981: personal communication). Sixty-four per cent of leaders in the 1950s had succeeded their fathers to this position (op cit).

For Duma I first attempted to establish the names of pre-contact leaders whose reputations as leaders were unquestionable. People remembered only four such leaders belonging to four Duma clans. Only one of these had a son and grandson who were also major leaders. Ambitious Chuave men, like those in Hagen, do not invariably claim

their fathers were big men. But because current leaders or ambitious men may claim such status for their fathers, I decided to survey

current leaders who had held government office - a status that I could check with other men throughout the area. Eleven of 52 village court magistrates (21.15 per cent) and 11 of 29 councillors (37.9 per cent) had fathers who had also served as government officials - the majority as either luluais or tultuls. Overall, therefore, 27 per cent of

men currently serving in some government capacity had fathers who had also been government leaders.

To acknowledge, as Brown does, that a test of succession is difficult because current leaders may rationalize post facto their

fathers’ status itself indicates that informants perceive heredity to be important. The following explanation by a Duma leader, age 34, illustrates the mixture of ascribed and achieved qualities preferred as the ideal type of Chuave leader.

We know a leader's way and look at his child. When a big man has a male child first that boy can be a leader. If four or five big men have children who are age-mates, one will be first [in seniority]. Will he be a leader? We d o n ’t know. A leader is a man who is clever, who speaks well and who 'steers' men's work. Is the first man a 'true' leader or a

'nothing' leader? We don't know - that is up to him. But in the lineage the first man is always the leader.

Men have different opinions about the importance of hereditary status. Some men argue that the sons of lineage heads and major leaders

automatically become big men. But the general consensus is that men watch closely the sons of leaders for indications of leadership skills.

This is the difference between 'nothing' leaders, men who may speak in public or are respected because of their fathers' status, and 'true' leaders who gain power and authority to act on behalf of the group.

While a man gives small allotments of his land to kinsmen sharing a common men's house, he gives most of his land and other wealth to his sons often well before his death. After marriage the eldest son often controls large amounts of land which he may temporarily allocate to gain a political following. Only later, when his younger brothers reach marriageable age, is it necessary to further sub-divide his land according to his father's wishes. Therefore, the sons of wealthy leaders or men owning larger than average tracts of land accrue some early economic advantage. But people also believe that a son inherits both the physical and personality traits of his father or grand-

father. Indigenous conceptions of biological and social inheritance are not well-defined, and unlike the Tauade for instance, Chuave people have no native theory of a 'creative force' or power as the basis for their hereditary ideology. Men stress that a son's behaviour tends

to replicate his father's. Humour, anger, good judgement, diligence, and personal strength are a few such characteristics. Men also

recognize that a big man encourages and even trains his son to follow in his footsteps. But unlike Hageners who also say sons emulate their fathers, in Chuave a man gains some advantage simply by his birth. Within two men's house groups in Keu, for example, many men bemoaned the fact that their current big men were childless - even though both had adopted sons - and encouraged these leaders to divorce their

'barren' wives so as to produce male children who could carry the name of the clan. The reputation of the group is thus an important

consideration in the choice of a leader; the son of a prominent big man more easily enhances the group's name by appealing to his father's

former status and exemplary actions.

The quotation above also acknowledges a distinction between age- mates (enambai) and other clan brothers. In the past, as few as five or as many as 15 youths were initiated simultaneously and travelled

together to other clans for courting parties. As in Siane, age-mates are the preferred choice for leviratic inheritance of widows (Salisbury 1962: 16). Age-mates play together as children and youths, often

forming life-long friendships. True age-mates, men whose births are close together (within approximately a one year period), share a special relationship. They often act as guardians to each other's children or name children after their enambai, thereby creating 'one- name' relationships which their children may call upon for aid in exchange. Age-mates are in many ways socially identical (Salisbury 1962: 16) and in Chuave food prohibitions affirmed the intensity of these relationships. Men could not eat the meat of pigs or game killed by age-mates, nor accept food from an age-mate's wife.^ Today,

however, age-mates do not always follow these prohibitions.

Within this subset of classificatory brothers, the first born has a special status. He is the 'first man' and should act as leader and guardian to his peers. Men say particular first born children

demonstrate leadership qualities in children's play activities and suggest that they will continue as leaders throughout their lives. Rival big men who are approximately the same age may all produce sons therefore, but one is inevitably born first and may use the terra 'first man' to legitimize his political aspirations. Ideally, the eldest of

an age-mate group marries and has a male child before his peers. Thus, when this individual becomes a big man later in his life, his child is the natural successor, not only because he is the son of a big man, but also because he is ’the first man'.

Men often adjust generational boundaries to accommodate men who have demonstrated leadership abilities. When I asked men who would replace Mama, a former government official, as leader of his subclan, they named four minor big men whose ages ranged from mid-thirties to late forties. Three of these men claimed to be the eldest of their age-grades. They paid no attention to the set of men who had been initiated together; rather, each man simply defined the boundary of his age-group downward from his own birth and ignored all older men.

Subsequently, the onus is on followers to determine who becomes the subclan leader and who becomes the 'first man' by deciding which claims to first born status are legitimate and which may be ignored. Big men are not always the 'first men' of respective subclans, and it cannot be said that proven leaders acquire this title post facto. Rather, there is an occasional adjustment to the alignment of generations to accommodate capable leaders. When a big man has some legitimate claim as the eldest of his generation, this is unnecessary. But the fact remains that just as men have an advantage because they are 'first', so too - at least in some instances - men become 'first' men because they have proven themselves as big men.

Variations in this belief in both Kuma and Siane help explain succession at the lineage level. As I have noted, Kuma succession for the sub-subclan's 'first man' is from father to eldest son. In Kuma, as in Siane and Chuave a man has many 'fathers' - all subclan members - but commonly only men of the same sub-subclan, who are born about the same time as a man's father, may be addressed by this kin term. An actual brother or patrilateral parallel cousin who may be a secondary leader is technically next in succession to the authorized

leader if the leader's son is too young. When such secondary leaders are the most senior of a line other than that of the leader, they are disqualified as 'first' because they were too young when the previous leader died or retired. Alternatively, the secondary leader 'is the most senior of a line junior to that of a leader who has no sons' (Reay

In Siane the lineage head is yarafo, eldest brother, to his own generation and 'first father' to children in the lineage. Succession to the yarafo's position passes from first father to next eldest brother of the same generation. This new eldest brother then becomes

yarafo to his own generation and first father to all children in the lineage. When all members of the parental generation have died or retired, the yarafo of the next generation becomes lineage head. Salisbury states that the 'dividing point between generations is arranged so that the yarafo of the rising generation is a capable person and anyone younger than him is his younger brother' (1962: 22).

Chuave and Siane kin terms are equivalent. In Chuave, within the lineage the aunam, eldest brother, replaces the ne n a m, first father Although a man may call any older male of his own generation 'eldest brother' the term is generally restricted to lineage members. People thus equate succession to the positions of 'first man' and 'first father'; the latter is a more specific form of the former. The first father is a leader to younger members of his generation within the lineage, occasionally acts as the guardian of lineage land, and oversees lineage distributions. Today, because of inflation in ceremonial exchange, subclan leaders commonly assume these responsi­ bilities and override the authority of particular lineage heads (see chapter four).

The major difference between modes of succession in Siane and Chuave is that Chuave people believe the shift from first father to next eldest of his generation is a temporary one. Because, as in Kuma, the lineage head's son may not be of an age to act as leader, the

headship must pass to the eldest member of the older generation. When the lineage head's son comes of age, he replaces any younger members of the aunam's generation who retire, provided he is a capable man. The division between generations is adjusted to accommodate his new status. Because the lineage has declined in significance as a social group, only old men could accurately assess the former importance of the aunam or describe succession to the lineage headship. Younger men stressed that father-son succession and age-grading were important in the subclan or more generally, throughout the clan.

a combination of ascribed and achieved status is important in these three societies. In each, I would argue, relationships between men of a single generation, especially between age-mates, and the notion of hereditary father-son succession are important. But in reality particular conditions and political competition distort systems of succession. A lineage leader, for example, may not have a son and so a secondary leader replaces him. Conversely a man may delay his

retirement in order that his own son, and not the son of a previous leader, is given the time to demonstrate his leadership capabilities. Within the lineage and subclan it is followers who must determine which of several possible competing claims to authority are legitimate. In the absence of elections the test of leadership was in the actual exercise of authority. People either heeded the aspirant to

leadership or ignored his claims to succession. Today, leader and follower alike signal the importance of both ascribed and achieved status when they give or withhold their support, or when they attempt to manipulate the system to fulfill their own or another's political ambitions.

The case for despotism

One central and still unresolved issue in highlands ethnography concerns the degree of power that pre- and early post-contact leaders possessed. Brown argues that the introduction of government officials and institutions by the Australian administration resulted in leaders whose power was unprecedented by traditional standards (1963).

Salisbury has contested this by arguing that 'although the indigenous ideology was one of democratic equality and competition, the empirical situation at this time [pre-contact] was one of serial despotism by powerful leaders' (1964b: 215). Salisbury demonstrates how a number of factors - including economic changes as well as the existence of administration sanctions - enhanced the power and sphere of influence of some post-contact leaders. He concludes that anthropologists have