The Second Precept Revisited

As in most all religions and cultures, Buddhism has its own set of rules, or precepts, by which it asks its members to abide.  These include the usual prohibitions that govern conventional morality: do not kill, do not lie, do not steal, etc.

In Buddhism, the number and the wording of the precepts varies from tradition to tradition, from school to school, and there is no universally recognized wording or number to the precepts.  Some schools of Buddhism have but five precepts and some have eight or more.  Some have long lists of precepts for monks, some of which are just general rules for living in a specific monastery ("Always lock the kitchen door after 8:00 p.m."), and shorter lists for laypeople.  

In most traditions, though, the First Precept prohibits killing and the Second, stealing.   The Second Precept, though, is often interestingly worded.  If it were to merely say "do not steal," would that prohibit someone from taking a found object of value, like a wrist watch left by a lake or a compass dropped along a hiking trail?  Is taking something lost by others still stealing, even if the original owners long since gave up trying to find the object, and the object couldn't possibly ever be tracked back to the former owner?

Beyond objects not now or formerly the property of other persons, what about taking from nature?  Is extracting coal from deep beneath the earth stealing?  Is over-harvesting natural resources stealing?

Buddhism deals with these questions partially by the way it phrases the precept.  Instead of simply saying, "Do not steal," the Second Precept is often stated, "Do not take that which is not freely given."

The forgotten wrist watch and lost compass were not freely given.  They were not gifted to you by their former owners.  Taking them may or may not constitute "stealing" in the eyes of the law, but it would violate the precept against taking that which is not freely given.  Does the earth freely give up  the mineral resources stored beneath its surface?  If so, why is so much effort and industry required to extract them?  Are the tuna that are over-fished to the point of ecosystem collapse freely given, or is the Second Precept being violated?

Reading Robin Wall Kimmerer's fine book, Braiding Sweetgrass, I found it interesting to learn that native American people exercise a practice similar to the Second Precept.  "Take only what is given, and treat it with respect," a village elder tells his audience.  When it comes to nature, specifically hunting and agriculture, Kimmerer describes an "indigenous canon of principals and practices that govern the exchange of life for life," collectively known as the Honorable Harvest.

When in the woods searching for a certain plant for its medicinal or nutritional value, or while out hunting, the Honorable Harvest dictates not to take the first one you find, as it may be the only individual in that local population, and picking it would mean there would be no others in the future. And of course it goes without saying that you never take the last, leaving none behind. Not only is the Honorable Harvest ecologically sustainable, but it recognizes that somewhere between the first and the last is that which nature is giving freely.  It represents a way of practicing the Second Precept with regard to nature.

Kimmerer's book abounds with indigenous knowledge and wisdom, and I fond it interesting to observe the parallels between native American traditions and Eastern teachings and thought, as well as the contrasts between those two traditions and Eurocentric Judeo-Christian practices.  For example, Western settlers and missionaries thought the natives were "lazy" and "undisciplined" when harvesting corn, as they left half the plants in the field and only took home as much as they needed for that winter.  But the natives knew that taking more would only go to waste, while the corn left in the field would assure seeds for next year's harvest.  Similarly, when harvesting rice, the natives "carelessly" let half the bounty fall back into the water instead of carefully reaping all the grains. Again, the native practice  was replenishing seed for the future instead of grabbing as much as possible.

The natives were taking that bounty which could be sustainably  harvested, that which was freely given, rather than depleting stocks for short-term bounties in the manner of the European settlers.

In the end, the settlers took over the continent, and to this day we're paying the consequences of their and our overconsumption.