Tuesday, October 17, 2023

how does right action, right speech, precepts and vinaya account for crimes of omission?

crimes of commission = doing wrong actions such as lying, killing, etc.
The standard definitions of right action and right speech have this covered.
But what about crimes of omission?


Crimes of omission are crimes that happen as a result of one deliberately not performing an action that would prevent the crime from happening.


For example, by deliberately not telling people something you know to be true, as a direct result they are harmed, tortured, or killed.


A text book legal example of crime of omission:

if one walks past a car collision and can see that both parties are severely injured, yet makes no attempt to help nor call emergency services. This failure to act could be seriously damaging to the lives of others and may even be fatal.


Most Buddhists tend to think by abstaining from any action (not just abstaining from wrong actions), they automatically keep precepts purely.


how does right action, right speech, precepts and vinaya account for crimes of omission?


I don't know the answer to this question.
I do know that many things I've witnessed in my life, by my personal standards of morals and ethics I would consider them to be crimes of omission, 
but by legal standards, would not be considered legally a crime,
or by Buddhist precepts and vinaya, probably would not be considered wrong or entail any offense by vinaya.

What do you guys think?


Example cases of crimes of omission




Ven Bhikkhu Analayo gives the example (Compassion and Emptiness in Early Buddhist Meditation) of going by a traveler who became sick midway on their journey. The town they left behind is distant as is the next town ahead but one doesn't stop to render aid. Instead one feels sympathy and compassion and has kind thoughts toward the traveler. (AN III 189) According to this account, by having thoughts of not wishing harm but not actually doing anything satisfies an act of compassion. The traveler could fall down dead later. It wouldn't be a "crime" in the Vinaya.


Forum discussion


https://www.reddit.com/r/theravada/comments/1790qga/is_lying_worse_than_torturing_people/

Lying, vocalizing a falsehood, as well as

not vocalizing and speaking out truth when it's appropriate to do so can directly lead to torture, killing, and great harm.

For example, people promoting a corrupt Dhamma teaching from a very popular monk,

and people who know for a fact it's corrupt and wrong but don't speak out to warn others,

are enabling the spreading the corrupted Dharma and also incurring great harmful karma to themselves.

Just as one example, you can think of many others.

The main point, is abstaining from wrong actions is not enough.

Abstaining from doing right actions at the right time, can lead directly to killing, mass harm, torture, etc.

Most Buddhists tend to think by abstaining from any action (not just abstaining from wrong actions), they automatically keep precepts purely.



The factor of effort is predominantly one of positive action in the vinaya, so not acting does not result in an offense in most cases. There are offenses in the vinaya that are a result of not acting or speaking, but the scope of the rules are narrow.

Some examples.

There is the rule against monks not helping a fellow sick monk.

There is Pacittiya 12, which is about not answering questions regarding accusations of misconduct.

Pacittiya 64, which is about not informing another monk of a serious offense committed by another monk.

For Parajika 1 there is an scenario in which effort is not a factor, but rather consent. If an woman engages in the act of sex with a monk who lays perfectly still (so not acting), what determines the offense is the mental state of consent.



Related


Ajahn Chah tells an inspiring story of a teacher seeing danger in the slightest fault


 Stillness Flowing 2.3.2 -Seeing the Danger


That year, 1947, Wat Khao Wongkot also played host to a senior monk, originally from Cambodia, who was to leave a deep impression on Luang Por.
This monk possessed the distinction of being proficient in both the academic study of Buddhist doctrine and the practice of meditation – an unusual accomplishment in Thailand where an unfortunate split had long existed between the scholar-monks and the meditators.
For the most part, the scholars did not meditate and the meditators did not study;
consequently, neither group held the other in very high esteem.
However, this monk (whose name has not been recorded and henceforth will be referred to as Ajahn Khe) was blessed with a remarkable memory for the intricacies of the Discipline and profundities of the Discourses (Suttas)[19]. At the same time, he adhered to the life of a tudong monk, most at ease surrounded by the natural silence of forests, mountains and caves.


One night during the retreat, there occurred an incident that Luang Por found so inspiring that, years later, he would often relate it to his disciples.
Ajahn Khe had kindly offered to help Luang Por with his study of the Vinaya.
Following a long and fruitful session one late afternoon, Luang Por, having taken his daily bath at the well, climbed up the hill to practise meditation on its cool, breezy ridge.
Sometime after ten o’clock, Luang Por was practising walking meditation when he heard the sound of cracking twigs and someone or something moving towards him in the darkness.
At first, he assumed it was a creature out hunting for its dinner, but as the sound got closer he made out the form of Ajahn Khe emerging from the forest.


Luang Por:
Ajahn, what brings you up here so late at night?


Ajahn Khe:
I explained a point of Vinaya to you incorrectly today.


Luang Por:
You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble just for that, sir.
You don’t have a light to show the way;
it could have waited until tomorrow.


Ajahn Khe:
No, it could not.
Suppose for some reason or other I was to die tonight and in future, you were to teach other people what I explained to you.
It would be bad kamma[20] for me and for many others.


Ajahn Khe carefully explained the point again and once he was certain that it had been clearly understood, returned into the night.
Luang Por had often noted the phrase in the texts describing the sincere monk as one who ‘sees the danger in the smallest fault’.
Here, at last, was someone who paid more than lip service to that ideal, who genuinely felt the closeness of death and who possessed such scrupulousness that it made him willing to risk climbing a treacherous mountain path in the middle of the night.
It was a powerful and memorable lesson.

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