In medieval Iceland, a victim of violence owned his legal claim the way a merchant owned his cargo. If the injured party was too weak to press his case before the Althing, he could sell the claim to a chieftain who would prosecute it for profit. Claims changed hands like any other property because they were property: a right to collect damages from the offender, valued by the assembly and enforceable through the community's combined economic pressure. No state attorney appeared, and no public budget funded the prosecution. Victims or their heirs decided whether to pursue the case or transfer the right entirely, and the system sustained itself for over three centuries with what David Friedman described as one part-time government employee.
Iceland's system was not an anomaly. Irish brehons, who served as private jurists without government appointment, calculated a specific price for every criminal injury, with a killer owing an eric plus an honor price calibrated to the victim's social standing and murder carrying double the fine assessed for manslaughter. Enforcement rested on sureties who had pledged their own property to guarantee the offender's compliance. On a different continent with no shared legal heritage, Somali xeer assigned diya groups the collective obligation to pay or receive blood compensation for any member's actions, with the standard price for a man's life set at one hundred camels. Convergence across disconnected civilizations points to a common economic cause: wherever people traded and needed to resolve injuries to continue trading, the same incentive structure produced the same institutional response.
Restitution treats crime as an economic injury to a specific person and prices the remedy accordingly. A thief owes the stolen goods plus damages calibrated to the severity of the offense. Rothbard formalized this principle in his Ethics of Liberty: the criminal loses his rights to the extent that he has invaded the rights of another, and the emphasis in punishment must fall on paying the debt to the victim. Under this logic, the first obligation of the thief who stole fifteen thousand dollars is to restore that sum plus damages, including judicial costs and foregone interest. Victims are made whole, and the incentive structure aligns with justice: the offender works to repay the debt because repayment is the only path back to full standing in the community.
Insurance against crime is the historical default. In Anglo-Saxon England, the frankpledge bound every free man over twelve into tithings of ten, each member jointly liable for the fines of any member who offended or fled. Diya groups under Somali xeer operated on the same principle at larger scale: from birth, every male belonged to a group that pooled resources so that any member's criminal liability became the collective debt, and his security depended on maintaining good standing within it. If a group member killed someone from another clan, the victim's kin could exact blood revenge on the killer or any of his male relatives, and the diya group existed precisely to convert this threat into a financial settlement: one hundred camels, paid collectively, purchased peace between the clans and closed the dispute. Elders negotiated the terms, and because the economic burden fell on every member, each had a financial interest in preventing the killing that would trigger the next assessment. The monitors had their own money at stake, which made them better watchmen than any salaried constable. A frankpledge tithing that included a violent man paid higher costs, which meant the group had every incentive to expel him or bring him under control before he generated another liability.
Enforcement in these systems rarely required physical coercion because economic exclusion imposed costs that imprisonment could not match. A merchant expelled from the Champagne fairs lost the most profitable trading network in medieval Europe, and the Hanseatic League maintained blacklists of traders who defaulted on arbitration rulings so that any port harboring a blacklisted merchant risked its own standing with the League. Modern credit reporting and platform reputation systems operate on the same principle: the cost of exclusion from a valuable network exceeds the cost of compliance with its rules, and compliance arises from calculated self-interest.
Victim-centered justice became state-centered prosecution for one reason: revenue. English kings discovered that criminal fines paid to the crown generated more income than fines paid to victims. Over centuries they diverted victim-directed payments, bot and wite alike, into the royal treasury until by the time Henry II consolidated royal courts in the twelfth century, prosecution had become a state function staffed by crown employees pursuing institutional interests. A robbery victim could not negotiate restitution with her attacker because the case belonged to the crown, and if the court convicted the offender, the penalty took the form of imprisonment that returned nothing to her. States kept the fines, built the prisons, hired the prosecutors, and told the public that this arrangement was civilization itself.
Every pathology economists predict from monopoly appears in state criminal justice. Police in the United States clear fewer than half of violent crimes and fewer than one in five property crimes, and victims of burglary and assault overwhelmingly receive no restitution from the process. Warehousing offenders costs tens of thousands of dollars per prisoner per year and produces recidivism rates above seventy percent, which means the state pays to make criminals worse and releases them to victimize the same communities again. Historical restitution systems required offenders to work toward repaying victims. Modern incarceration forces taxpayers to fund confinement while victims receive nothing.
Technology is restoring the architecture that states displaced. Bitcoin-based escrow systems like Resolvr adjudicate disputes through community voting with funds locked in Discreet Log Contracts, releasing payment only when the verdict arrives. Nostr's web of trust produces a public, auditable reputation record equivalent to the medieval merchant's standing at a fair: visible to all counterparties and destructible by dishonest behavior. Insurance markets already price risk for every other category of human activity, and there is no economic reason why defense against crime should be the single exception. Hoppe's proposal for insurance-based defense follows the logic that produced the frankpledge and the diya group: pool risk across a community and let premium pricing discipline members whose behavior generates excess liability.
An insurance company that covers defense against crime funds the architecture that prevents claims from arising. Gated communities and private patrol services already operate on this logic within existing property law. Private security in the United States employs more personnel than all public police forces combined, and it does so under market discipline: a firm that fails to prevent incidents at a client's property loses the contract. An insurer covering a community against violent crime would price premiums according to the community's risk profile, which means communities that excluded known offenders and maintained effective access controls would pay less while communities that tolerated high-risk individuals would pay more. Price signals accomplish what police budgets cannot: precise allocation of defensive resources according to the actual preferences of the people being defended.
An insurer who cleared fewer than half of claims and lost money on seventy percent of resolved cases would be bankrupt within a quarter. State criminal justice operates on these numbers year after year because its revenue comes from compulsory taxation, not from satisfied customers. Victims once owned their criminal claims, and communities insured against the liability that crime produced. States confiscated this architecture centuries ago and replaced it with something more expensive and less effective by every measure their own agencies publish. Private arbitration and cryptographic escrow are already pulling commercial disputes out of government courts, and criminal disputes will follow for the same reason they always have: victims who own their claims price their injuries with greater accuracy than any government attorney assigned to represent them.