The idea of a ‘just’ society is of one in which there is ‘justice’ in the distribution of resources and treatment of people. A key aspect of this is the idea of ‘fairness’ and a respect for individuals. While I know of no direct equivalent to the word ‘justice’ in Pāli or Sanskrit, it can be seen as one aspect of the meaning of Dhamma/Dharma in its sense of compassionate ethical norms that should guide the conduct of individuals and rulers.

Buddhism posits a basic equality of sentient beings as faced with suffering and in need of liberation. It also regards humans in particular as having a precious kind of rebirth with great potential for liberation in spite of their different karmic backgrounds. Respect for others is seen in the reflection, ‘For a state that is not pleasing or delightful to me, how could I inflict that on another?’ (SN V.353–354; Harvey 2000: 33–34). This is given as a reason for not inflicting wrong action or wrong speech on others. Other aspects of respect are discussed in Harvey 2000: 36–37.

Russell Sizemore and Donald Swearer make the point that in Buddhism there is more concern with the mode of acquisition and use of wealth—that should respectively be ethical and generous (Harvey 2000: 187–192)—than on the question of the justice of its distribution (1990: 2). In Buddhism, moral virtue is seen to lead to wealth, and Sizemore and Swearer hold that wealth is seen as a result, and proof, of previous generosity (3–4).

Nevertheless, to help the poor is seen to generate good karma, and the receipt of such help will also be karmically deserved (12). Thus, when the doctrine of kammatic [i.e. based on karma] retribution is understood as an exceptionless moral explanation and justification for the present distribution of wealth and poverty in society, it undercuts moral criticism of the distribution per se. Consequently, Buddhists concerned with how to make their present society more just appeal not to a distribution of wealth corresponding more adequately to moral desert, but to the principles of non-attachment and virtues such as compassion and generosity. (12; see Ornatowski 1996)

Thus, ‘There are norms for redistributing wealth and visions of the well-ordered society which serve as guides in criticizing existing social arrangements. These norms have primarily to do with the practice of giving, or dāna, and the appeal to the higher principle of non-attachment’ (19).

While the above is in the main true to how many Buddhists think, it includes some unwarranted assumptions, at least as regards how true such readings are to the texts of early Buddhism. While those texts certainly hold that generosity leads to wealth as a karmic result, and stinginess leads to being poor (DN II.86, MN III.170–171, MN III.205), it is not said anywhere that these are the only causes of wealth or poverty.

Indeed, the fact that it is said that karmic causes are only one among a variety of possible causes for illnesses (see pp. 21–22 in this volume) suggests that such a view would not be warranted in these texts. Thus while a person’s wealth and poverty may be due to past karma, this is only one possibility. Thus, it is not right to assume that all poverty and wealth are karmically deserved. To assume that karma is an ‘exceptionless moral explanation’ is, indeed, to come close to karmic fatalism, which is not true to the original Buddhist vision. Thus, while appeals to generosity, non-attachment, and compassion certainly are key persuaders for Buddhists in working for a more just society, this need not be at odds with an appeal to justice per se.

Mavis Fenn has pointed out that when the Cakkavatti-sīhanāda Sutta (see ‘Political Ideals’ section in this chapter) talks of the duty of a good ruler to prevent poverty, there is no reference to poverty being karmically deserved (1996: 102, 121; also, see Fenn 1991), and that a king reacting to poverty with sporadic personal giving is seen as ineffective: he must act more systematically and effectively by preventing poverty becoming systemic (Fenn 1996: 107).

Moreover, this and the Kūṭadanta Sutta (see ‘Duties of a Government Regarding the Economy and Welfare’ section in this chapter) express ‘views that correspond to simple notions of social justice—everyone should have sufficient resources to care for themselves and others, and to make religious life possible—and the notion that these values should be incorporated into the political system’ (Fenn 1996: 108).

Nevertheless, ideas of distributive justice may be muted by the idea that at least some poverty and wealth is a result of karma. Moreover, at least in Theravāda lands, those who seek to persuade others of the legitimacy of their wealth do so by reference to some or all of:

(a) the idea that it is due to their past karmically fruitful (or ‘meritorious’) actions;

(b) that it was ethically made; and

(c) that it is not the result of self-indulgent craving, by demonstrating present generosity (Reynolds 1990: 73).

In fact, a rich person is seen as having a greater opportunity to do karmically fruitful actions by giving liberally to the Saṅgha and the community. As Phra Rājavaramuni, a noted Thai scholar-monk who is also known as Phra Payutto, says, ‘A wealthy man can do much more either for the better or for the worse of the social good than a poor man . . . acquiring wealth is acceptable if, at the same time, it promotes the well-being of a community or society’ (1990: 45).

The philanthropy of the wealthy is thus an admired and encouraged quality in Buddhism. Nevertheless, Rājavaramuni holds that as long as wealth is used for the wellbeing of all members of society, ‘it does not matter to whom it belongs, whether the individual, community or society’ (1990: 53). Indeed, in modern times we see Buddhist ideas being drawn on to support socialism in Burma, capitalism in Thailand, and communism in China and Laos. Thus, while Buddhism has no central drive towards economic equality per se:

(a) rulers have an obligation to seek to avoid poverty among their people, and

(b) the well-off have an obligation to be generous to other members of the community.

While the Saṅgha’s relationship to the state has been typically one of ‘cooperation and an amelioratory approach to social change, along with support for the status quo distribution of wealth’ (Ornatowski 1996: 213), monasteries have themselves traditionally had a redistributive effect (Harvey 2000: 194–195, 204–206).

Also relevant are various ‘Engaged Buddhism’ movements, as discussed in this volume. These include: the Sarvōdaya Śramadāna village development movement in Sri Lanka (Harvey 2000: 225–234); the Santi Asoke movement in Thailand, which emphasizes a simple life, organic agriculture, and clear and low profit margins (Harvey 2013: 391–394); the social critic Sulak Sivaraksa in Thailand (Harvey 2000: 218– 227); the Vietnamese Tiep Hien (Order of Interbeing) of Thich Nhat Hanh (Harvey 2013: 411–412); and the Sōka Gakkai offshoot of Japanese Nichiren Buddhism (Harvey 2013: 404–406).

The Buddha was no social revolutionary advocating the abolishment of all social divisions, but while he saw a person’s class at birth as determined by past karma, he saw no obligation to stay within the limitations of this class if talent and energy lead elsewhere. He was critical of Brahmanical claims associated with the system of four supposedly divinely ordained social classes—the varṇas of the so-called ‘caste system’—that certain people were superior or inferior by birth (e.g. at DN I.119; DN III.81; MN II.83–90, 125– 133, 147–157, 178–196; see Krishan 1986 for further discussion).

He taught, ‘Not by birth does one become an outcaste, not by birth does one become a brahmin. By (one’s) action one becomes an outcaste, by (one’s) action one becomes a brahmin’ (Sn 136), appropriating the term ‘brahmin’ and changing its meaning to refer to a truly noble spiritual person, an arahant.

He argued that the human race was one species, not four (Sn 594–656; MN II.196–197), that the social classes observable in society were not eternal, but had gradually evolved (DN III.93–95; Sn 648). A person is designated as a farmer, trader, thief, Brahmanical priestly celebrant, or king by the kind of work he does (Sn 612–619), people of different classes are equally capable of good and bad action, and gifts to a virtuous monk are of great fruit, no matter what class he comes from (SN I.98–99).

Admittedly, in Sri Lanka, due to Hindu influence, a sort of mild caste system developed. This mainly concerns who a person can eat with or marry, but it also, unfortunately, led to different monastic fraternities recruiting from different castes (Gombrich 1971: 294–317). It has also been the case that, in a number of Buddhist societies, such people as slaughterers, and, sometimes, fishermen, have been treated as social outcastes, due to their unwholesome way of life. Thailand has had a class of royalty and nobility, but of small proportions, due to a uniquely Thai feature: in each generation, the offspring of nobility are reduced in rank by one grade. For nineteenth-century Burma, Fielding Hall remarks, ‘There was, and is, absolutely no aristocracy of any kind at all. The Burmese are a community of equals, in a sense that has probably never been known elsewhere’ (1902: 54).

Buddhism greatly values social harmony and cohesion, as seen in the value placed on the four ‘foundations of social unity’ (Pāli saṅgaha-vatthu; Skt sagraha-vastu), as found in the Sigālovāda Sutta: giving (dāna); kindly speech (Pāli piya-vācā; Skt priyavākya); helpful action (Pāli attha-cariyā Skt tathārthacaryā); impartial treatment and equal participation (Pāli samānattatā; Skt samānāṛthatā), or even-mindedness to pleasure and pain (Skt samāna-sukha-duḥkhatā) (DN III.152, 232; AN II.32, 248; AN IV.218, 363; Mvs II.395; see Rājavaramuni, 1990: 36, 40 and Payutto 1993: 69–71).

The good of self and others is seen as inter-twined: ‘How, monks, guarding oneself, does one guard others? By the pursuit, development and cultivation [of mindfulness]. . . .

And how, monks, guarding others, does one guard oneself? By patience, harmlessness, a mind of lovingkindness, and sympathy’ (SN V.169). The ideal is to treat all in a friendly way (Rājavaramuni 1990: 36), but close associations and friendships are best cultivated with good, rather than bad, people, so as to receive good influences, as well as being supported rather than exploited (Sn 259, DN II.185–187).

The Noble Eightfold Path includes three factors relating to ethical discipline (Pāli sīla, Skt śīla): right speech, right action, and right livelihood (MN I.301).

Right action is defined as keeping three of the five lay precepts: avoiding intentional killing of any sentient being, stealing by theft or deception, and sexual misconduct.

Right speech concerns not only the avoiding of lying, as in the fourth of the precepts, but also other aspects of harmful speech. Speech is a powerful way of affecting other people’s state of mind and well-being, as well as one’s own, sending ripples through family, work context, and community and setting the tone for how people interact.

MN III.48–49 gives four aspects of right speech, the first of which is truthful speech: ‘Abandoning lying speech, he is one who abstains from lying speech, a truth-seeker, a bondsman to truth, trustworthy, dependable, no deceiver of the world.’ Yet truth needs to be delivered sensitively, so that unblameworthy speech is ‘spoken at the right time, in accordance with truth, gentle, purposeful, and with a friendly heart’ (AN III.243–244). Hence the Buddha declared he only spoke what was timely, true, and spiritually beneficial—even if it was sometimes disagreeable to his hearers (MN I.395).

The second aspect of right speech is explained as follows:

Abandoning divisive speech, he is one who abstains from divisive speech. Having heard something here, he is not one for repeating it elsewhere so as to divide people there from those here; or having heard something elsewhere, he is not one to repeat it here so as to divide people here from those there. In this way he is a reconciler of those who are divided, and a promoter of friendship. Harmony is his pleasure, harmony is his delight, harmony is his joy, harmony is the motive of his speech.

The third aspect of right speech is explained as:

Abandoning harsh speech, he is one who abstains from harsh speech. Whatever speech is gentle, pleasing to the ear, and loveable, as goes to the heart, is courteous, desired by many, and agreeable to many: such speech does he utter.

Angry speech has the most obvious bad impact on others. Even hearing it directed at someone other than oneself tends to generate tension. If one gets angry when raising a problem with someone, their barriers will tend to go up so that they stop listening properly. One who slanders and uses harsh speech is said (Sn 657) to have a tongue like an axe: by its use, he causes himself much future suffering. Amongst other things, speech which is not harsh should be unhurried, otherwise ‘the body tires and the thought suffers and the sound suffers and the throat is affected; the speech of one in a hurry is not clear and comprehensible’ (MN III.234).

Finally, the fourth aspect of right speech is explained as:

Abandoning frivolous chatter, he is one who abstains from frivolous chatter. He is a speaker at a right time, a speaker of fact, a purposeful speaker, a speaker on the Dhamma, a speaker on ethical discipline, he speaks words that are worth treasuring, with similes at the right time that are discriminating, purposeful.

Frivolous chatter is sometimes explained (SN V.355) as problematic due to its boring people. Indulging in it also makes it more difficult to calm the mind in meditation, as the mind tends to keep talking to itself. Hence this aspect of right speech is most important on a meditation retreat.

Right livelihood is one that is not dishonest or otherwise causing of suffering. Wrong livelihood is trade in: weapons (being an arms salesman), living beings (raising animals for slaughter),1 meat (being a slaughterer, meat salesman, hunter, or fisherman), alcoholic drink, or poison (AN III.208). It is also seen as any mode of livelihood that is based on trickery, pressure tactics, or greed (MN III.75); hence it is said that in his past lives as a bodhisattva, the Buddha: ‘earned his living by right livelihood: he was one who abstained from crooked ways such as cheating with weights, false metal and measure, taking bribes, deceiving and fraud and from such acts of violence as maiming, beating, binding, mugging and looting’ (DN III.176). To have an eye on how to increase one’s wealth is fine, but to be blind to ethical considerations, so as to do so ‘with tricks, fraud and lies: worldly, purse-proud’, is to be ‘one-eyed’ (AN I.129–130).

The Mahāyāna Upāsaka-śīla Sūtra adds that one should also avoid making nets or traps, dying silk, and tanning leather (T 24, 1488, 1048c02–08). The Mahā-ratnakūṭa Sūtra (T 11, 310, 312a29–b06) adds that:

10. A son of the Buddha should not horde swords, sticks, bows, or arrows, or do business with people who cheat others using false scales or measurements. He should not abuse a position of authority to appropriate others’ property, nor restrict and sabotage others’ success out of jealousy. Neither should he raise cats, foxes, pigs, or dogs. A bodhisattva who does so disgraces himself by committing a secondary offence.

In the modern context, a Buddhist might add others forms of wrong livelihood to the list (Whitmyer 1994). For example: doing experiments on animals; developing pesticides; working in the arms industry; and perhaps even working in advertising, to the extent that this is seen as encouraging greed, hatred, and delusion, or perverting the truth (Saddhatissa 1971: 52; Aitken 1984: 52).

The Maṅgala Sutta holds that a great blessing is ‘work which is free from upset (anākulā)’ (Sn 262), which of course can often arise from conflict amongst employees or between employees and employer. The Sigālovāda Sutta says that a person should look after servants and employees ‘by arranging their work according to their strengths, by supplying them with food and wages, by looking after them when they are ill, by sharing delicacies with them and by letting them off work at the right time’ (DN III.191). In response, they should be diligent, honest, and uphold their employer’s reputation. The Ārya-bodhisattva-gocara, an early Mahāyāna text,2 says that a good ruler should censure those: ‘who do not properly share with their wife, children, servants, maids or workers; or who make the livelihood of others difficult through overworking them or asking them to perform degrading work’, as this is ‘wrong livelihood’ (Jamspal 107b).

Several texts outline an ideal for a Buddhist ruler to follow so as to ensure a peaceful and harmonious society (cf. Saddhatissa 1970: 149–164). The Buddha had an admiration for some of the tribal republics of his day. At one time, he said that the Vajjian republic would flourish if the people continued to:

hold regular and frequent assemblies . . . meet in harmony, break up in harmony, and carry out business in harmony . . . not authorise what has not been authorised, but proceed according to what has been authorised by their ancient tradition . . . honour, respect, revere and salute the elders among them, and consider them worth listening to . . . not forcibly abduct others’ wives and daughters and compel them to live with them . . . honour, respect, revere and salute the Vajjian shrines at home and abroad, not withdrawing the proper support made and given before . . . make proper provision for the safety of Arahants, so that such Arahants may come in future to live there, and those already there may dwell in comfort. (DN II.73–75)

One can see these as the principles of respecting collective decision-making, concord, tradition, elders, women, religion, and holy men and women. The importance of these social principles was such that the Buddha saw them, or adapted versions of them, as ensuring the flourishing of the monastic Saṅgha. Nevertheless, he could see that the days of the tribal republics were numbered, as they were gradually being swallowed up by new, expanding kingdoms. Indeed, he saw the falling away from the above principles as the thing that would allow their being overwhelmed by these kingdoms.

The Buddha also had views on kingship: the role of a king was to serve his people by ensuring order and prosperity for them. The Aggañña Sutta (DN II.80–98; Collins 1998: 448–451) describes the origins of human society as part of a process of moral decline from relatively ideal conditions at the start of a cycle of world evolution (Fenn 1996: 111–117). Here, the first king is said to have been chosen by his people—as the most handsome, pleasant, and capable—to punish wrongdoers, in return for a share of the people’s rice (DN III.92). This can be seen as a kind of ‘social contract’ theory of kingship. Opposing the Hindu idea of divine kingship, Candrakīrti later argued: ‘The first king was created by his own action and the people, not by the Almighty One. A king is the same as a common person in lineage and in nature’ (Ṭīkā [Derge Tengyur fol.75a] on Āryadeva’s Bodhisattva-yogācāra-catuḥśātaka, cited by Jamspal at xxxi).

The Buddha’s advice on how best to run society was often couched in terms of ideal legendary rulers known as Cakkavatti (Pāli; Skt Cakravartin), or ‘Wheel Turning’ kings, whose ethical, compassionate rule is said to have caused a divine wheel to appear in the sky. In the Cakkavatti-sīhanāda Sutta (DN III.58–79),(3) the duties of such a ruler are that he should revere Dhamma and rule only in accordance with it. He should: look after all his people, and also animals and birds; prevent crime and give to those in need; and consult monks and brahmins regarding what are wholesome or unwholesome actions (DN III.61; Rājavaramuni 1990: 38–39). B. G. Gokhale says that the key contribution of Buddhism to Indian political theory was ‘the acceptance of a higher morality as the guiding spirit behind the state’.4

In the Jātaka stories, the Bodhisattva teaches the ten duties of a true king (rājadhammas): generosity, ethical discipline, self-sacrifice, honesty and integrity, gentleness, self-control, non-anger, non-injury, forbearance, and non-opposition/uprightness (e.g. Jat III.274 and Jat V.378). In the Mahāvastu (I.274–277), a Lokottaravāda text, advice to a king includes: do not fall under the power of anger; be impartial in arbitrating disputes; do not be indulgent in sensual pleasures; admit large bodies of immigrants; favour the poor and protect the rich; cultivate ties of friendship with neighbouring kings; act ethically; and be circumspect, and diligent in the care of the treasury and granary.

It is said that when kings act unethically (adhammika), this bad example spreads through the various groups of their people. Hence the seasons go awry, and gods are annoyed so as to bring about bad weather, crops are poor, and the humans who live on them are weak and short-lived (AN II.74–76; see Reynolds and Reynolds 1982, 153 and Jamspal 111a–b). That is, a king is seen to have a responsibility to maintain, through his actions and influence, the moral fabric of society and nature (cf. Payutto 1993: 63–68).

Stanley Tambiah refers to this as the ‘multiplier-effect’ of kingship on the conduct of the rest of society (1976: 50), such that it is acceptable to unseat an unworthy king. In one Jātaka story (Jat III.502–514), a king who is a thief is overthrown.

In Buddhist history, the Indian emperor Aśoka (c.268–239 bce) is particularly revered as a great example of a Buddhist ruler who sought to live up to the Cakkavatti ideal, though he never actually claimed to be one himself.5 The Magadhan empire, which he inherited, was the largest India was to see until its conquest by the British, and included most of modern India except the far south. An important source of knowledge on Aśoka are the many edicts which he had published by having them carved on rocks and stone pillars (see Nikam and McKeon 1959; Dhammika 1993; and Gurugé 1993). In the Sixth Rock Edict, he expressed his aspiration thus: ‘No task is more important to me than promoting the well-being of all the people. Such work as I accomplish contributes to discharging the debt I owe to all living creatures to make them happy in this world and to help them attain heaven in the next’ (Nikam and McKeon 1959: 38).

Aśoka inaugurated various public works: wells, rest houses, and trees for both shade and fruit for travellers; and medical herbs and roots for humans and animals. Such measures were also fostered in Indian regions beyond his actual empire, by what must have been early ‘foreign aid’ measures (Nikam and McKeon 1959: 64–65). He exhorted his people to live by moral norms, particularly nonviolence, himself abandoning his forebears’ custom of violent expansion of their realm. He also gave up hunting, gradually became vegetarian, and passed various animal welfare laws. Though he was personally a Buddhist, and ruled in accordance with Buddhist ethics, he did not make Buddhism the state religion, and urged mutual religious tolerance and respect. He not only supported Buddhist monks and nuns, but also brahmin priests, Jain monks and nuns, and ascetics of other religious sects. His Twelfth Rock Edict says:

King Priyadarśī honors men of all faiths, members of religious orders and laymen alike, with gifts and various marks of esteem. Yet he does not value either gifts or honors as much as growth in the qualities essential to religion in men of all faiths.

This growth may take many forms, but its root is in guarding one’s speech to avoid extolling one’s own faith and disparaging the faith of others improperly or, when the occasion is appropriate, immoderately.

The faiths of others all deserve to be honored for one reason or another. By honoring them, one exalts one’s own faith and at the same time performs a service to the faith of others. By acting otherwise, one injures one’s own faith and also does disservice to that of others. For if a man extols his own faith and disparages another because of devotion to his own and because he wants to glorify it, he seriously injures his own faith.

Therefore concord alone is commendable, for through concord men may learn and respect the conception of Dharma accepted by others.

King Priyadarśī desires men of all faiths to know each other’s doctrines and to acquire sound doctrines. (Nikam and McKeon 1959: 51–52)

The spirit of the above is in tune with modern emphases on respect for diversity, and multiculturalism.

To varying extents, many Buddhist rulers have sought to follow such ideals and examples, though sometimes they only went in for a ‘self-serving proclamation’ to this effect (Tambiah 1976: 226). In Sri Lanka, the king came to be seen, from at least the tenth century, as the lay head of Buddhism, its protector, and as a bodhisattva, with the idea that ‘The king is a bodhisattva on whom the sangha bestows kingship in order that he may defend the bowl and robe’ (Tambiah 1976: 97). Kings of the Pagan period (1084–1167) in Burma came to see themselves as Cakkavattis and bodhisattvas (Tambiah 1976: 81). In Thailand too, in Sukhothai and Ayutthaya times (fourteenth–eighteenth centuries), and into the nineteenth century, kings were seen in these terms and sometimes identified themselves with the Bodhisattva Metteyya, who will be the next buddha on earth (Tambiah 1976: 96–97). They have also been expected to follow the above ten duties of a king and the twelve duties of the Cakkavatti. Nevertheless, as elsewhere: ‘The heads of kings rolled frequently because succession rules were vague, rebellions endemic, the overall political scaffolding fragile, and the territorial limits expanding and contracting with the military fortunes of the ruler, his subordinate chiefs, and his rivals’ (Tambiah 1976: 482).

On the other hand, one of the advantages that Chinese emperors saw in Buddhism was that its nonviolent emphasis discouraged rebellions.

Where Buddhism has been the dominant religion:

Kingship as the crux of order in society provides the conditions and the context for the survival of the sasana (religion). They need each other: religion in being supported by an ordered and prosperous society is able to act as a ‘field of merit [karmic fruitfulness]’ in which merit making can be enacted and its fruits enjoyed, while the king as the foremost merit maker needs the sangha to make and realize his merit and fulfil his kingship. (Tambiah 1976: 41)

While monks are generally expected to keep aloof from overt political activity, this is not always the case.

In modern times, in Tibet, monks and nuns have been active in demonstrations against the Chinese Communist colonization of the country. In Burma, monks have sometimes led the populace in demonstrations against the corrupt military regime that has only recently been open to democratic reforms; some monks have, though, also encouraged repressive measures against the Muslim Rohingya minority. In Sri Lanka, monks have publicly voiced their allegiance to particular political parties—though the laity often see this as inappropriate for them.

Many of the above ideals can also be applied to rule by an elected government, and Buddhist values are open to democratic rule. Indeed, within the monastic Saṅgha, there is provision for voting on matters where a consensus cannot be reached (MN II.247; Vin II.93–100, Vin IV.206; Collins 1998: 436–448). That said, there is an expectation that those who govern should be an ethical example to others, along with a realistic acceptance that this has often not been the case. It is notable that a wise person is said to protect their wealth from various threats, including it being taken by ‘kings and thieves’ (AN IV.282).

As to whether rule based on majority voting will produce good laws, well, if one focuses on the Buddha-nature, or luminous mind (AN I.10), and that people need to have had good karma to have been reborn as humans, one will have more confidence in majority rule. But if one focuses on the greed, hatred, and delusion that often feed human actions, one will be less confident. Politicians pandering to greed and prejudice to gain votes are a danger.

Press alertness to corrupt politicians and ethical dangers in policies can be a safeguard, but this needs to be done in a discerning and fair way; Buddhist texts value criticism given by the wise, though not criticism from ‘foolish and ignorant people who speak without having investigated and evaluated’ (MN II.114). Having a judiciary that is separate from law makers is in line with the Buddhist idea that even a ruler is subject to ethical norms, albeit that the law and morality are not the same.

In Myanmar/Burma, reputedly devout Buddhist Aung San Suu Kyi has been a focus for bringing democracy back to the country (it existed there previously from 1948 to 1962), and in Japan the third largest party in parliament is the Kōmeitō, which originated as the political wing of the Sōka Gakkai and remains influenced by it.

In the Cakkavatti-sīhanāda Sutta (see ‘Political Ideals’ section in this chapter) it is said that a new Cakkavatti once followed all the duties of such a ruler except giving to the needy, resulting in poverty arising for the first time in ages. Consequently, stealing arises. When a thief is caught and is brought before the emperor, he explains that he stole as he was poor: so the emperor gives him some goods with which to support himself and his family, carry on a business, and make gifts to renunciants and brahmins. When others hear of this, though, stealing only increases. The emperor therefore makes an example of the next thief by executing him. This then leads to thieves arming themselves and killing those that they rob, so that there are no witnesses (DN III.64–68). The Buddha sums this up as follows:

Thus, from the not giving of property to the needy, poverty became rife, from the growth of poverty, the taking of what was not given increased, from the increase of theft, the use of weapons increased, from the increased use of weapons, the taking of life increased—and from the taking of life, people’s life-span decreased, their beauty decreased. (DN III.68)

Thus, a government that allows poverty to develop is sowing the seeds of crime and social conflict. Systemic poverty threatens law and order and thus inhibits both social cohesion and personal morality (Fenn 1996: 107). Of course, all those who are poor do not commit crimes, but poverty makes crime, especially theft (and perhaps also rebellion) more likely, and in certain cases relatively more excusable. It is interesting that the sutta contains what might be called both left-wing and rightwing emphases, respectively: look after the poor, harsh punishments breed more violence in society; if welfare provision is too easy to attain, this encourages unjustified claims on it.

Related themes are found in the Kūṭadanta Sutta (DN I.134–136; Collins 1998: 476– 480). Here, the Buddha tells of a rich and powerful king of the past who wanted to offer a lavish sacrifice to secure his own future welfare, in accordance with Brahmanical practices. He therefore asks his brahmin adviser, the Buddha in a past life, how to go about this.

In reply, the brahmin points out that the kingdom was being ravaged by thieves and brigands. This situation would not be solved by executions, imprisonments, or other repressive measures, for those who survived such measures would continue to cause problems (as often happens in anti-guerrilla measures today). He then gives an alternative plan to ‘completely eliminate the plague’, which involves granting grain and fodder to those who cultivate crops and raise cattle; granting capital to traders; and giving proper living wages to those in government service:

Then those people, being intent on their own occupations, will not harm the kingdom. Your Majesty’s revenues will be great, the land will be tranquil and not beset by thieves, and the people, with joy in their hearts, will play with their children and dwell in open houses. (DN I.136)

The king then carries out this advice and, in line with further counsel, conducts a great sacrifice, but one in which only such things as butter and oil were offered, not the lives of animals, no trees were cut down, and no one was forced to help (DN I.141). While Gombrich (2006: 85) comments that this passage was meant mainly as a critique of Brahmanical sacrifice, and that he knows of no Indian king who did such things as grant capital to businessmen, the spirit of the passage still expresses a Buddhist ideal—and one which has often been cited by a number of Buddhists in recent times. Moreover, in his Traibhūmi-kathā, the fourteenth-century Thai prince Phya Lithai has a Cakkavatti advise other kings to lend capital, at no interest, to subjects in need of it for trading (Reynolds and Reynolds 1982: 151–152).

A key message of both the above texts is that if a government allows poverty to develop, this will lead to social strife, such that it is its responsibility to avoid this by looking after the poor, and even investing in various sectors of the economy.

The Mahāyāna philosopher Nāgārjuna (c.150–250 ce), in his Rāja-parikathāratnamālā (RPR), advised King Udayi that he should support doctors, set up hostels and rest houses, supply water at arid roadsides, and:

Cause the blind, the sick, the lowly,
The protectorless, the wretched
And the crippled equally to attain
Food and drink without interruption. (v. 320)

Always care compassionately for
The sick, the unprotected, those stricken
With suffering, the lowly and the poor
And take special care to nourish them. (v. 243)

Provide extensive care
For the persecuted, the victims (of disasters),
The stricken and diseased,
And for worldly beings in conquered areas. (v. 251)

Provide stricken farmers
With seeds and sustenance,
Eliminate high taxes
By reducing their rate. (v. 252)

Eliminate thieves and robbers
In your own and others’ countries.
Please set prices fairly and keep
Profits level (when things are scarce). (v. 254)

The Ārya-bodhisattva-gocara, which Lozang Jamspal says was the favourite handbook of many teachers in Tibet, such as Tsong kha pa, particularly in their advice to rulers (Jamspal xv and xxvii), says that a ruler should not tax people in a way that harms the poor, such as when crops fail or during a famine, but give them aid (Jamspal 104b). Those who refuse to pay taxes are not exactly stealing but are doing ‘an acutely nonvirtuous act brought about by miserliness’ (Jamspal 108b).

Buddhist kings have varied considerably in the extent to which they have lived up to the above high ideals, but in Sri Lanka, people regard medieval kings as having presided over a period of agricultural abundance based on extensive irrigation works, religious flourishing, and charity. In the Cūḷavaṃsa chronicle (Geiger 1929), it is said of King Upatissa I (362–409) that ‘For cripples, women in travail, for the blind and sick he erected great nursing shelters and alms-halls’ (ch. 37, vv. 182–183), and of Mahinda IV (956–972 or 1026–1042):

In all the hospitals he distributed medicine and beds, and he had food given regularly to criminals in prison. To apes, the wild boar, the gazelles and to dogs he, a fount of pity, had rice and cakes distributed as much as they would. In the four vihāras [monasteries] the king had raw rice laid down in heaps with the injunction that the poor should take of it as much as they wanted. (ch. 54, vv. 30–33)

In Cambodia, King Jayavarman VII (1182–1218) built a chain of 102 hospitals open to all and ordered the gathering of herbs, minerals, and animal parts to supply these, each of which had a shrine to the buddha of healing, Bhaiṣajyaguru.

The above implies that citizens have a duty to pay taxes, as a support for various public benefits provided through the government, provided their administration and the rate is not oppressive. They also have an interest in a lawful society, and a duty to obey laws that have a basis in ethics and fairness.

They have a right not to be oppressed by their government, though: in the social contract model of kingship implied by the Aggañña Sutta (see ‘Political Ideals’ section in this chapter), the very basis of a ruler’s legitimacy is that he should protect the welfare of those he rules.

With its emphasis on non-harming, Buddhism has strong support for rights to freedom from oppression. When it comes to the rights to positive benefits, its emphasis is somewhat less strong, seeing such things less as entitlements and more as something that it is good for others to choose to provide. Nevertheless, its political ideals, as outlined above, clearly see governments as having key responsibilities to look after their people.

A ruler should not only seek to prevent crime by preventing poverty, but also to deal with crime appropriately to prevent its increase. The Aggañña Sutta describes the first king as chosen by his people to punish wrongdoers. In return for being supported by his people, he should ‘show displeasure (khīyeyya) at that which one should rightly show displeasure, censure (garaheyya) that which should rightly be censured, and banish (pabbājeyya) those who should rightly be banished’ (DN III.92). The duties of a Cakkavatti include that he should ‘let no crime (adhamma-kāro) prevail’ (DN III.61).

In the Buddha’s day, some kings used gruesome forms of executions (MN I.87; MN III.164), but the Mūga-pakkha Jātaka (no. 538) says that a king is reborn in hell through harshly punishing robbers by having them hit with a whip barbed with thorns, chained up, speared, or impaled (Jat VI.3–4).6

Steven Collins (1998: 419–459) discusses this jātaka as a typical example of what he calls ‘Mode 2 Dhamma’ in which ‘the assessment of violence is context-independent and non-negotiable, and punishment, as a species of violence, is itself a crime’. This contrasts to other Pāli material in ‘Mode 1 Dhamma’, in which ‘the assessment of violence is context-dependent and negotiable. Buddhist advice to kings in Mode 1 tells them not to pass judgment in haste or anger, but appropriately, so that the punishment fits the crime’ (420).

The Janasandha Jātaka (no. 448) has the bodhisattva as a king who ended executions and even opened the doors of prisons (Jat IV.176). In the Petavatthu (Book IV, story 1), a ghost appeals to a king not to execute his former friend for trading in stolen goods: the friend will be reborn in hell if this happens, whereas if freed, he can do good deeds and not experience the results of his crime in hell. The king then goes with the criminal to a monk, who advises that the man is released and should concentrate on good actions.

The present Dalai Lama echoes such ideas:

every one of us has the potential to commit crimes, because we are all subject to negative disturbing emotions and negative mental qualities. And we will not overcome these by executing other people My overriding belief is that it is always possible for criminals to improve and that by its very finality the death penalty contradicts this. . . . I believe that the deeper nature of mind is something pure. Human beings become violent because of negative thoughts which arise as a result of their environment and circumstances. (Dalai Lama 1998)

Here a story from Ajahn Brahm (an English monk based in Australia) is relevant. He had taught prisoners and a prison officer told him, ‘All the prisoners who attended your classes never returned to jail once they were released.’ Ajahn Brahm, on reflection, thought that this was because:

In all my years teaching in prisons, I had never once seen a criminal. I have seen many people who had committed murder, but I have never seen a murderer I saw the person more than the crime. It is irrational to define people by one, two, or even several, horrible acts that they have done. It denies the existence of all other deeds that they have performed, the many noble acts. I recognized those other deeds. I saw people who had done a crime, not criminals. When I saw the people not the crimes, they also saw the good part of themselves. They began to have self-respect, without denying the crime. Their self-respect grew. When they left the jail, they left for good. (Brahm 2014: 24–25)

Emperor Aśoka set up a ‘Ministry of Dhamma’, through which he sought to prevent wrongful imprisonment and punishment, to free prisoners when appropriate, and to aid prisoners’ families if they were in need (Nikam and McKeon 1959: 58–63). Nikam and McKeon’s translation (60–61) of his Pillar Edict IV has a reference to his use of the death penalty, although K. R. Norman’s more recent translation sees no such reference (1975: 21). Richard Gombrich (n.d.) comments:

K. R. Norman showed the word which had been taken to refer to execution refers only to flogging. So Aśoka was the first [known] ruler in history recorded to have abolished the death penalty. Make no mistake: the state that uses the death penalty is to that extent corrupting its citizens and going against the Buddha’s teaching.

In Gupta times (320–540 ce) in India, the mainly Hindu kings, probably due to Buddhist influence, abolished the death penalty in their empire, with fines being the most usual punishment, and only serious revolts leading to the amputation of a hand. Later the Buddhist Harṣa (606–647) also abolished the death penalty and replaced it with life imprisonment (Basham 1967: 120). The Korean monk Hye Ch’o (eighth century) reported that Buddhist kings of central India only used fines as punishment.

However, in Tang China, the legal code included capital punishment (Ch’en 1973: 96). In Japan, Damien Horigan (1996: 285–286) reports that: ‘In 724 ad, Emperor Shomu (r. 724–749), a devout Buddhist forbade the use of the death penalty. This was during the end of the Nara Period (715–794). Likewise, there were very few executions during the Heian Period (794–1185).’ However, executions resumed in the more turbulent Kamakura period (1192–1336).

The Milindapañha, a Theravāda text dating from perhaps the first century ce, says that acts done by those who are mentally disturbed should not be punished (Miln 221).

The monk Nāgasena, when asked about punishments, ignores King Milinda’s reference to maiming, torture, and beating but admits that thieves should be ‘rebuked, fined, banished, imprisoned . . . or executed (ghātetabbo)’. This was not because this execution is ‘approved of (anumata)’ by buddhas, but because of their own wrong actions (Miln 184–188).

Among Mahāyāna texts, the Ārya-bodhisattva-gocara says:

When a ruler believes that punishment [of the wicked] will not be effected through mere obloquy, then, concentrating on love and compassion and without resort to either killing, damaging of sense organs, or cutting off of limbs, he should try warning, scolding, rebuking or beating them, or confiscating their property, exiling them from the state, tying them up, or imprisonment.7 A ruler should be tough, but not in any heavier way than these. (Jamspal 105a)

Nāgārjuna, in his Rāja-parikathā-ratnamālā, advised King Udayi to banish murderers rather than executing them (RPR 337). Moreover:

Especially generate compassion
For those murderers, whose sins are horrible;
Those of fallen nature are receptacles
Of compassion from those whose nature is great. (v. 332)

Free the weaker prisoners
After a day or five days
Do not think the others
Are never to be freed. (v. 333)

As long as the prisoners are not freed,
They should be made comfortable
With barbers, baths, food, drink,
Medicine and clothing. (v. 335)

Just as unworthy sons are punished
Out of a wish to make them worthy,
So punishment should be enforced with compassion
And not through hatred or desire for wealth. (v. 336)

Yet for many crimes, it is no real ‘compassion’ to let people get away with their actions: this both threatens the peace and order of society and allows people to persist in ways which are morally harmful to themselves: ‘If a ruler . . . is too compassionate, he will not chastise the wicked people of his kingdom, which will lead to lawlessness and, as a result, the king will be unable to remove the harm done by robbers and thieves’ (Jamspal 115a–b).

The Suvarṇa-bhāsottama Sūtra also says a king ‘must not knowingly without examination overlook a lawless act. No other destruction in his region is so terrible’ (Emmerick 141–142, cf. 135–137).

In the Ārya-bodhisattva-gocara, the aim of punishment is that criminals ‘might become good persons again’ (Jamspal 108a) who do not neglect their obligations (Jamspal 105a).

David Loy claims that a common feature of judicial systems in countries where Buddhism has been the predominant religion is that ‘the only acceptable reason for punishment is education and reform’ (2000: 149). On Tibetan practice, he cites (159) Rebecca French, ‘The goal of a legal proceeding was to calm the minds and relieve the anger of the disputants and then—through catharsis, expiation, restitution and appeasement—to rebalance the natural order’ (1995: 74), while Virginia Hancock says that ‘Buddhist punishment is arguably specific to the character of the individual (rather than being driven by principles or facts) and the affected community, and is oriented to future practice and rehabilitation’ (2008: 121).

Karma brings appropriate results for crime—what some might see as retributive punishments, but Buddhism sees as unfortunate natural results—such that ‘the Buddhist theory of crime is first and foremost a theory of reconciliation and rehabilitation’ (Hancock 2008: 127).

The important thing is not to exact revenge on a person for an act expressing an indelibly evil nature, but to help them change in a better direction. Indeed, there is evidence that teaching Vipassanā meditation to prisoners reduced reoffending rates by helping prisoners to accept their wrongdoing and seek to change their ways (Harvey 2009: 59–60).

The idea of the Buddha-nature, or the earlier idea that ‘this mind is luminous, but it is defiled by defilements which arrive’ (AN I.10), points to a potential for good deep in everyone, no matter how it is covered by negative mental states. This can be seen to represent a potential for reform in all. A famous case of rehabilitation is that of Aṅguḷimāla (MN II.97–105), who used to kill and collect the fingers of his victims (cf. Loy 2000: 149– 151). Tamed by the Buddha, he gave up his way of life and ordained. King Pasenadi accepts that as a precept-keeping monk, he would respect him, rather than seek to drive him from his kingdom (M II.101); Aṅguḷimāla later became an arahant. In the United Kingdom, the Buddhist prison-visiting organization is called the Angulimala Trust (http://www.angulimala.org.uk).

While there are clearly Buddhist arguments against the use of the death penalty, and these have been acted on to varying extents, there are still states with majority Buddhist populations that make some use of capital punishments. It is used in Japan, though criminals are executed only after they have confessed and repented, so they can be on death row for many years. It is outlawed in Cambodia (1989) and Bhutan (2004), its use is de facto banned in Sri Lanka (1976), Burma (1993), South Korea (1997), Mongolia (2012), and Laos, and it is permitted in Thailand, but in recent years the king has been commuting most death penalties (Horigan 1996: 287). It is used in Taiwan, Vietnam, and Singapore, which has the highest rate per population in the world.8

The extent to which any country encodes the ethics of its people in law is a variable matter (see Harvey 2000: 342–350). Aśoka, while placing some legal restrictions on the killing of animals, felt that careful reflection and meditation were better means to moral improvement than legal compulsion (Nikam and McKeon 1959: 40, see 33–34). In Buddhist countries, while there have been and are certain legal restrictions on the killing of animals, which clearly breaks the first precept, these are limited. Butchers are not sent to prison. Likewise, though selling alcohol offends against the principle of ‘right livelihood’, doing so is not banned in any Buddhist country. That said, while all Burmese kings used the rhetoric of enforcing Buddhist morality, few went to the lengths of Alaungpaya (c.1755) and Badon (c.1790), who outlawed the slaughter of animals, and it seems that Badon even imposed the death sentence for alcohol or opium use.

Passages cited above suggest that for Buddhism, the job of a ruler or government is to prevent immorality descending into social disorder and to encourage morality, if not rigidly enforce it. The Ārya-bodhisattva-gocara (Jamspal 106a–b) says that ‘slaughterers, bird killers, and pork sellers’ should be punished, but only by being chastised and warned. It also sees the king as having a role in improving the morality of his people: ‘Rulers . . . are called ‘pleasing ones’ [rāja] in that they [are responsible for] maintaining the happiness of people, causing them [the people] to be good’ (Jamspal 102b). The Suvarṇa-bhāsottama Sūtra says: ‘For the sake of suppressing what is unlawful, a destroyer of evil deeds, he would establish beings in good activity in order to send them to the abode of the gods’ (Emmerick 135).

What do we find when we look at Buddhist-influenced premodern law? Of all Buddhist countries, Burma has had a traditional legal literature most strongly influenced by Buddhist norms (Huxley 1995: 49–50). In Sri Lanka, no traditional law texts survive, and caste was the basis of dispute settlement and social organization. In Thai and Khmer traditions, the king was seen as the primary source of law. In China, Buddhism could only marginally influence the existing legal tradition. Surprisingly, Tibet’s laws were much less influenced by Buddhist ideas than in Burma, perhaps because it took its law from Central Asian states to its north (Huxley 1995: 55).9

In Burma, as elsewhere in Southeast Asia, the main types of law texts were:

1. Rājathat: the less ephemeral of a king’s commands (Huxley 1995: 48), which included general guidance to the judges in the royal courts (Huxley 1997: 75).

2. Dhammathat: ‘customary law’ (Huxley 1995: 52), which gives guidance on unofficial dispute settlement, especially at village level (Huxley 1997: 74). In the form of digests of law for popular consumption, their rules ‘should be obeyed because they are as old as human society, or because they are universally acknowledged as correct because they are implicit in the Buddha’s dhamma’ (Huxley 1997: 73). Indeed, they were seen as ‘editions of the age-old law text which is written on the walls at the boundary of the universe’ (Huxley 1995: 52).

3. Pyatton: Jātaka-type stories of clever judges, or reports of cases (Huxley 1995: 49) which give ‘helpful legal information’ in the form of non-binding precedents (Huxley 1997: 78).

The dhammathat texts were often composed by monks (Huxley 1995: 48), especially those expert in monastic discipline (53), and indeed, the Vinaya is often quoted in Southeast Asian legal literature, as well as its reasoning style being influential on law (Huxley 1997: 70–71). Both in Burma and elsewhere in Southeast Asia, it is notable that ‘no sharp distinction was made between law, morality and good behaviour. Law texts [of any of the above three types] are often bound together with Jatakas and other works on ethics and politesse’ (Huxley 1997: 81).

In spite of the strong Buddhist influence on traditional Burmese law, Andrew Huxley, an expert in this field, can find no ruling on abortion in it,10 even though Buddhist texts see abortion as a serious act of killing a human (Vin III.73; Harvey 2000: 313–326). He speculates that this may be because abortion did not ‘threaten the king’s peace . . . nor does it lead to a claim for compensation to be mediated at village or suburb level’, and so came under the remit of neither rājathat nor dhammathat.

In Thailand, one 1978 study found that the majority of people saw abortion as immoral, yet also held that the abortion law should be liberalized to allow it on socioeconomic grounds and for a broader range of medical grounds (Florida 1998: 24). In 1981, when Parliament was debating liberalization of the law, a poll of monks found that 75 per cent held that the bill was immoral, yet 40 per cent felt it should pass, with only 40 per cent opposing this (the figures for nuns were 12 per cent and 78 per cent) (World Fellowship of Buddhists Review 1981: 30). While such a mismatch of views might seem surprising, there is a logic to it. On the one hand, Buddhism is clear that abortion is an unwholesome action; it also holds that to deny that an unwholesome action is unwholesome is itself a potently unwholesome action.

On the other hand, Buddhists may be concerned about the suffering of women undergoing botched illegal abortions, which threaten their health, with only the wealthy being able to afford safe abortions. Thus, while a Buddhist would expect the karmic results of abortion to arise in the future, she may see less need for legal punishment to follow from the act. Thus the support for liberalizing the law, or the lax enforcing of the existing law, as occurs in some countries.

Notes:
1. Ven. Payutto sees this as including controlling prostitutes (1993: 61).
2. Full title, Bodhisattva gocara-upāya-viṣaya vikurvaṇa-nirdeśa Sūtra, also known as the Āryasatyaka-parivarta. Jamspal holds that it was composed some time be-tween the second century bce and the first century ce. References are to the Tibet-an pagination as indicated in the translation.
3. See: Saddhatissa 1970: 154–157, 159–160; Collins 1998: 480–496; Fenn 1996: 100–108; Reynolds and Reynolds 1982: 135–72 gives a developed Theravāda view on Cakkavattis.
4. Gokhale 1996: 22. See Tambiah 1976: 9–53 on early Buddhist ideas of kingship; 39–53 on the Cakkavatti ideal. On the latter, see also Obeyesekere and Reynolds 1972, which also deals with ideas of kingship and social order in Sri Lanka.
5. He came to be seen as a Cakkavatti, however (Divyāvadāna, Vaidya edition, 1958: 239). On Aśoka, see: Ling, 1973: 151–174; Basham 1982; Swearer 1995: 64–66. For the later Theravāda view of Aśoka, see Reynolds and Reynolds 1982: 172–189.
6. Andrew Huxley discusses the influence of this text on certain traditional legal texts in Southeast Asia (1991: 345).
7. Though Stephen Jenkins (2014: 435–436) suggests a harsher reading of the list of acceptable punishments.
8. Harvey 2009: 60–61; Infoplease: The Death Penalty Worldwide https://www.infoplease.com/world/ political-statistics/death-penalty-worldwide; http://www.deathpenaltyworldwide.org/.
9. Though French reports that Buddhist ideas affected the way the law was applied (1995: 114).
10. Personal communication.

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Suggested Reading
Harvey, P. (2000) An introduction to Buddhist ethics: foundations, values and issues. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Harvey, P. (2009) Buddhist perspectives on crime and punishment. In: J. Powers and C. S. Prebish (eds), Destroying Māra forever: Buddhist ethics essays in honor of Damien Keown. Ithaca, NY: Snow Lion, 47–66.
Nikam, N. A., and McKeon, R. (1959) The edicts of Asoka. Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press.
Ornatowski, G. K. (1996) Continuity and change in the economic ethics of Buddhism: evidence from the history of Buddhism in India, China and Japan. Journal of Buddhist ethics 3, 198–240.
Payutto, P. A. (1993) Good, evil and beyond: kamma in the Buddha’s teaching. Bangkok: Buddhadhamma Foundation Publications. Available from: http://www.buddhanet.net/pdf_file/good_evil_beyond.pdf.
Saddhatissa, H. (1970) Buddhist ethics: essence of Buddhism. London: George Allen and Unwin. Sizemore, R. F., and Swearer, D. K. (eds) (1990) Ethics, wealth and salvation: a study in Buddhist social ethics. Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press, especially ch. 1, by Phra Rājavaramuni