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Our task is to eradicate suffering by eradicating its causes: ignorance, craving, and aversion. To achieve this goal the Buddha discovered, followed, and taught a practical way to this attainable end. He called this way the Noble Eightfold Path.

Once, when asked to explain the path in simple words, the Buddha said,

“Abstain from all unwholesome deeds,
perform wholesome ones,
purify your mind”
—this is the teaching of enlightened persons.1

This is a very clear exposition which appears acceptable to all. Everyone agrees that we should avoid actions that are harmful and perform those that are beneficial. But how does one define what is beneficial or harmful, what is wholesome or unwholesome? When we try to do this we rely on our views, our traditional beliefs, our preferences and prejudices, and consequently we produce narrow, sectarian definitions that are acceptable to some but unacceptable to others. Instead of such narrow interpretations the Buddha offered a universal definition of wholesome and unwholesome, of piety and sin. Any action that harms others, that disturbs their peace and harmony, is a sinful action, an unwholesome action. Any action that helps others, that contributes to their peace and harmony, is a pious action, a wholesome action. Further, the mind is truly purified not by performing religious ceremonies or intellectual exercises, but by experiencing directly the reality of oneself and working systematically to remove the conditioning that gives rise to suffering.

The Noble Eightfold Path can be divided into three stages of training: sīla, samādhi, and paññā. Sīla is moral practice, abstention from all unwholesome actions of body and speech. Samādhi is the practice of concentration, developing the ability to consciously direct and control one's own mental processes. Paññā is wisdom, the development of purifying insight into one's own nature.

The Value of Moral Practice

Anyone who wishes to practise Dhamma must begin by practising sīla. This is the first step without which one cannot advance. We must abstain from all actions, all words and deeds, that harm other people. This is easily understood; society requires such behavior in order to avoid disruption. But in fact we abstain from such actions not only because they harm others but also because they harm ourselves. It is impossible to commit an unwholesome action—to insult, kill, steal, or rape without generating great agitation in the mind, great craving and aversion. This moment of craving or aversion brings unhappiness now, and more in the future.

The Buddha said,

Burning now, burning hereafter,
the wrong-doer suffers doubly. . .
Happy now, happy hereafter,
The virtuous person doubly rejoices.2

We need not wait until after death to experience heaven and hell; we can experience them within this life, within ourselves. When we commit unwholesome actions we experience the hell-fire of craving and aversion. When we perform wholesome actions we experience the heaven of inner peace. Therefore it is not only for the benefit of others but for our own benefit, to avoid harm to our selves, that we abstain from unwholesome words and deeds.

There is another reason for undertaking the practice of sīla. We wish to examine ourselves, to gain insight into the depths of our reality. To do this requires a very calm and quiet mind. It is impossible to see into the depths of a pool of water when it is turbulent. Introspection requires a calm mind, free from agitation. Whenever one commits unwholesome action, the mind is inundated with agitation. When one abstains from all unwholesome actions of body or speech, only then does the mind have the opportunity to become peaceful enough so introspection may proceed.

There is still another reason why sīla is essential: One who practises Dhamma is working toward the ultimate goal of liberation from all suffering. While performing this task he cannot be involved in actions that will reinforce the very mental habits he seeks to eradicate. Any action that harms others is necessarily caused and accompanied by craving, aversion, and ignorance. Committing such actions is taking two steps back for every step forward on the path, thwarting any progress toward the goal.

Sīla, then, is necessary not only for the good of society but for the good of each of its members, and not only for the worldly good of a person but also for his progress on the path of Dhamma.

Three parts of the Noble Eightfold Path fall within the training of sīla: right speech, right action, and right livelihood.

Right Speech

Speech must be pure and wholesome. Purity is achieved by removing impurity, and so we must understand what constitutes impure speech. Such acts include: telling lies, that is, speaking either more or less than the truth; carrying tales that set friends at odds; backbiting and slander; speaking harsh words that disturb others and have no beneficial effect; and idle gossip, meaningless chatter that wastes one's own time and the time of others. Abstaining from all such impure speech leaves nothing but right speech.

Nor is this only a negative concept. One who practises right speech, the Buddha explained, speaks the truth and is steadfast in truthfulness, trustworthy, dependable, straightforward with others. He reconciles the quarrelling and encourages the united. He delights in harmony, seeks after harmony, rejoices in harmony, and creates harmony by his words. His speech is gentle, pleasing to the ear, kindly, heartwarming, courteous, agreeable, and enjoyable to many. He speaks at the proper time, according to the facts, according to what is helpful, according to Dhamma and the Code of Conduct. His words are worth remembering, timely, well-reasoned, well-chosen, and constructive.3

Right Action

Action must also be pure. As with speech, we must understand what constitutes impure action so that we may abstain from it. Such acts include: killing a living creature; stealing; sexual misconduct, for example, rape or adultery; and intoxication, losing one's senses so that one does not know what one says or does. Avoiding these four impure actions leaves nothing but right action, wholesome action.

Again this is not only a negative concept. Describing one who practises right physical action the Buddha said, “Laying aside the rod and sword he is careful to harm none, full of kindness, seeking the good of all living creatures. Free of stealth, he himself lives like a pure being.”4

The Precepts

For ordinary people involved in worldly life, the way to implement right speech and right action is to practise the Five Precepts, which are

1. to abstain from killing any living creature;

2. to abstain from stealing;

3. to abstain from sexual misconduct;

4. to abstain from false speech;

5. to abstain from intoxicants.

These Five Precepts are the essential minimum needed for moral conduct. They must be followed by anyone who wishes to practise Dhamma.

At times during life, however, the opportunity may come to lay aside worldly affairs temporarily—perhaps for a few days, perhaps just for one day—in order to purify the mind, to work toward liberation. Such a period is a time for serious practice of Dhamma, and therefore one's conduct must be more careful than in ordinary life. It is important then to avoid actions that may distract from or interfere with the work of self-purification. Therefore at such a time one follows eight precepts. These include the basic five precepts with one modification: instead of abstaining from sexual misconduct, one abstains from all sexual activities. In addition one undertakes to abstain from untimely eating (that is, from eating after noon); to abstain from all sensual entertainment and bodily decoration; and to abstain from using luxurious beds.

The requirement of celibacy and the additional precepts foster the calmness and alertness that are necessary for the work of introspection, and help to free the mind from all external disturbance. The Eight Precepts need be followed only during the time given to intensive practice of Dhamma. When that time is over, a lay person may revert to the Five Precepts as guidelines for moral conduct.

Finally, there are the Ten Precepts for those who have adopted the homeless life of a recluse, a mendicant monk, or a nun. These ten precepts include the first eight, with the seventh precept divided into two and one further precept: to abstain from accepting money. Recluses must support themselves solely by the charity they receive, so that they are free to devote themselves fully to the work of purifying their minds for their own benefit and for the benefit of all.

The precepts, whether five, eight, or ten, are not empty formulas dictated by tradition. They are literally “steps to implement the training,” very practical means to ensure that one's speech and actions harm neither others nor oneself.

Right Livelihood

Each person must have a proper way of supporting himself or herself. There are two criteria for right livelihood. First, it should not be necessary to break the Five Precepts in one's work, since doing so obviously causes harm to others. But further, one should not do anything that encourages other people to break the precepts, since this will also cause harm. Neither directly nor indirectly should our means of livelihood involve injury to other beings. Thus any livelihood that requires killing, whether of human beings or of animals, is clearly not right livelihood. But even if the killing is done by others and one simply deals in the parts of slaughtered animals, their skins, flesh, bones, and so on, still this is not right livelihood, because one is depending on the wrong actions of others. Selling liquor or other drugs may be very profitable, but even if one abstains from them oneself, the act of selling encourages others to use intoxicants and thereby to harm themselves. Operating a gambling casino may be very lucrative, but all who come there to gamble cause themselves harm. Selling poisons or weapons—arms, ammunition, bombs, missiles—is good business, but it injures the peace and harmony of multitudes. None of these are right livelihood.

Even though a type of work may not actually harm others, if it is performed with the intention that others should be harmed, it is not right livelihood. The doctor who hopes for an epidemic and the trader who hopes for a famine are not practising right livelihood.

Each human being is a member of society. We meet our obligations to society by the work we do, serving our fellows in different ways. In return for this we receive our livelihood. Even a monk, a recluse, has his proper work by which he earns the alms he receives: the work of purifying his mind for his good and the benefit of all. If he starts exploiting others by deceiving people, performing feats of magic or falsely claiming spiritual attainments, then he is not practising right livelihood.

Whatever remuneration we are given in return for our work is to be used for the support of ourselves and our dependents. If there is any excess, at least a portion of it should be returned to society, given to be used for the good of others. If the intention is to play a useful role in society in order to support oneself and to help others, then the work one does is right livelihood.

Practice of Sīla in a Course of Vipassana Meditation

Right speech, right action, and right livelihood should be practised because they make sense for oneself and for others. A course in Vipassana meditation offers the opportunity to apply all these aspects of sīla. This is a period set aside for the intensive practice of Dhamma, and therefore the Eight Precepts are followed by all participants. However, one relaxation is allowed for those joining a course for the first time, or for those with medical problems: They are permitted to have a light meal in the evening. For this reason such people formally undertake only the Five Precepts, although in all other respects they actually observe the Eight Precepts.

In addition to the precepts, all participants must take a vow of silence until the last full day of the course. They may speak with the teacher or the course management, but not with other meditators. In this way all distractions are kept to a minimum; people are able to live and work in close quarters without disturbing each other. In this calm, quiet, and peaceful atmosphere it is possible to perform the delicate task of introspection.

In return for performing their work of introspection, meditators receive food and shelter, the cost of which has been donated by others. In this way, during a course they live more or less like true recluses, subsisting on the charity of others. By performing their work to the best of their ability, for their own good and the good of others, the meditators practise right livelihood while participating in a Vipassana course.

The practice of sīla is an integral part of the path of Dhamma. Without it there can be no progress on the path, because the mind will remain too agitated to investigate the reality within. There are those who teach that spiritual development is possible without sīla. Whatever they may be doing, such people are not following the teaching of the Buddha. Without practising sīla it may be possible to experience various ecstatic states but it is a mistake to regard these as spiritual attainments. Certainly without sīla one can never liberate the mind from suffering and experience ultimate truth.

Questions and Answers

QUESTION: Isn't performing right action a kind of attachment?

S. N. GOENKA: No. It is simply doing your best, understanding that the results are beyond your control. You do your job and leave the results to nature, to Dhamma: “Thy will be done.”

Then it is being willing to make a mistake?

If you make a mistake you accept it, and try not to repeat it the next time. Again you may fail; again you smile and try a different way. If you can smile in the face of failure, you are not attached. But if failure depresses you and success makes you elated, you are certainly attached.

Then right action is only the effort you make, not the result?

Not the result. That will automatically be good if your action is good. Dhamma takes care of that. We do not have the power to choose the result, but we can choose our actions. Just do the best you can.

Is it wrong action to harm another accidentally?

No. There must be an intention to harm a particular being, and one must succeed in causing harm; only then is wrong action completed. Sīla should not be taken to an extreme, which would be neither practical nor beneficial. On the other hand, it is equally dangerous to be so careless in your actions that you keep harming others, and then excuse yourself on the grounds that you had no intention of causing harm. Dhamma teaches us to be mindful.

What is the difference between right and wrong sexual conduct? Is it a question of volition?

No. Sex has a proper place in the life of a householder. It should not be forcibly suppressed, because a forced celibacy produces tensions which create more problems, more difficulties. However, if you give free license to the sexual urge, and allow yourself to have sexual relations with anyone whenever passion arises, then you can never free your mind of passion. Avoiding these two equally dangerous extremes, Dhamma offers a middle path, a healthy expression of sexuality hiwch still permits spiritual development, and that is sexual relations between two people who are committed to each other. And if your partner is also a Vipassana meditator, whenever passion arises you both observe it. This is neither suppression nor free license. By observing you can easily free yourself of passion. At times a couple will still have sexual relations, but gradually they develop toward the stage in which sex has no meaning at all. This is the stage of real, natural celibacy, when not even a thought of passion arises in the mind. This celibacy gives a joy far beyond any sexual satisfaction. Always one feels so contented, so harmonious. One must learn to experience this real happiness.

In the West, many think that sexual relations between any two consenting adults are permissible.

That view is far away from Dhamma. Someone who has sex with one person, then another, and then someone else, is multiplying his passion, his misery. You must be either committed to one person or living in celibacy.

How about the use of drugs as aids to experience other types of consciousness, different realities?

Some students have told me that by using psychedelic drugs they passed through experiences similar to those they encountered in meditation. Whether or not this is really so, having a drug-induced experience is a form of dependence on an outside agency. Dhamma, however, teaches you to become your own master so that you can experience reality at will, whenever you wish. And another very important difference is that the use of drugs causes many people to lose their mental balance and to harm themselves, while the experience of truth by the practice of Dhamma causes meditators to become more balanced, without harming themselves or anyone else.

Is the fifth precept to abstain from intoxicants or to abstain from becoming intoxicated? After all, drinking in moderation, without becoming drunk, does not seem particularly harmful. Or are you saying that drinking even one glass of alcohol is breaking sīla?

By drinking even a small amount, in the long run you develop a craving for alcohol. You don't realize it but you take a first step toward addiction, which is certainly harmful to yourself and others. Every addict starts by taking just one glass. Why take the first step toward suffering.? If you practise meditation seriously and one day you drink a glass of wine out of forgetfulness or at a social gathering, that day you will find that your meditation is weak. Dhamma cannot go together with the use of intoxicants. If you really wish to develop in Dhamma, you must stay free from all intoxicants. This is the experience of thousands of meditators.

The two precepts concerning sexual misconduct and the use of intoxicants particularly need to be understood by people from Western countries.

People here often say, “If it feels good, it must be right.”

Because they don't see reality. When you perform an action out of aversion, automatically you are aware of agitation in the mind. When, however, you perform an action out of craving, it seems pleasant at the surface level of the mind, but there is an agitation at a deeper level. You feel good only out of ignorance. When you realize how you harm yourself by such actions, naturally you stop committing them.

Is it breaking sīla to eat meat?

No, not unless you have killed the animal yourself. If meat happens to be provided for you and you enjoy its taste as you would that of any other food, you have not broken any precept. But of course by eating meat you indirectly encourage someone else to break the precepts by killing. And also at a subtler level you harm yourself by eating meat. Every moment an animal generates craving and aversion; it is incapable of observing itself, of purifying its mind.

Every fibre of its body becomes permeated with craving and aversion. This is the input you receive when eating non-vegetarian food. A meditator is trying to eradicate craving and aversion, and therefore would find it helpful to avoid such food.

Is that why only vegetarian food is served at a course?

Yes, because it is best for Vipassana meditation.

Do you recommend vegetarianism in daily life?

That is also helpful.

How can making money be acceptable conduct for a meditator?

If you practise Dhamma, you are happy even if you don't make money. But if you make money and do not practise Dhamma, you remain unhappy. Dhamma is more important. As someone living in the world, you have to support yourself. You must earn money by honest, hard work; there is nothing wrong in that. But do it with Dhamma.

If somewhere down the road your work may have an effect that is not good, if what you do can be used in a negative way, is that wrong livelihood?

It depends on your intention. If you are concerned only to accumulate money, if you think, “Let others be harmed, I don't care so long as I get my money,” this is wrong livelihood. But if your intention is to serve and nevertheless someone is harmed, you are not to blame for that.

My company produces an instrument that, among other things, is used to gather data on atomic explosions. They asked me to work on this product, and somehow it did not seem right to me.

If something will be used only for harming others, certainly you should not be involved in that. But if it can be used for positive as well as negative purposes, you are not responsible for the use others make of it. You do your work with the intention that others should use this for a good purpose. There is nothing wrong with that.

What do you think of pacifism?

If by pacifism you mean inaction in the face of aggression, certainly that is wrong. Dhamma teaches you to act in a positive way, to be practical.

How about the use of passive resistance, as taught by Mahatma Gandhi or Martin Luther King, Jr.?

It depends on the situation. If an aggressor can understand no other language except force, one must use physical strength, always maintaining equanimity. Otherwise one should use passive resistance, not out of fear but as an act of moral bravery. This is the Dhamma way, and this is what Gandhiji trained people to do. It requires courage to face with empty hands the aggression of armed opponents. To do that one must be prepared to die. Death is bound to come sooner or later; one can die in fear or bravely. A Dhamma death cannot be in fear. Gandhiji used to tell his followers who faced violent opposition, “Let your wounds be on your chest, not on your backs.” He succeeded because of the Dhamma in him.

You yourself say that people can have wonderful meditation experience without maintaining the precepts. Isn't it then dogmatic and inflexible to put so much stress on moral conduct?

I have seen from the case of a number of students that people who give no importance to sīla cannot make any progress on the path. For years such people may come to courses and have wonderful experiences in meditation, but in their daily lives there is no change. They remain agitated and miserable because they are only playing a game with Vipassana, as they have played so many other games.

Such people are real losers. Those who really want to use Dhamma in order to change their lives for better must practise sīla as carefully as possible.

The Doctor's Prescription

A man becomes sick and goes to the doctor for help. The doctor examines him and then writes out a prescription for some medicine. The man has great faith in his doctor. He returns home and in his prayer room he puts a beautiful picture or statue of the doctor. Then he sits down and pays respects to that picture or statue: he bows down three times, and offers flowers and incense. And then he takes out the prescription that the doctor wrote for him, and very solemnly he recites it: “Two pills in the morning! Two pills in the afternoon! Two pills in the evening!” All day, all life long he keeps reciting the prescription because he has great faith in the doctor, but still the prescription does not help him.

The man decides that he wants to know more about this prescription, and so he runs to the doctor and asks him, “Why did you prescribe this medicine? How will it help me?” Being an intelligent person, the doctor explains, “Well, look, this is your disease, and this is the root cause of your disease. If you take the medicine I have prescribed, it will eradicate the cause of your disease. When the cause is eradicated, the disease will automatically disappear.” The man thinks, “Ah, wonderful! My doctor is so intelligent! His prescriptions are so helpful!” And he goes home and starts fighting with his neighbors and acquaintances, insisting, “My doctor is the best doctor! All other doctors are useless!” But what does he gain by such arguments? All his life he may continue fighting, but still this does not help him at all. If he takes the medicine, only then will the man be relieved of his misery, his disease. Only then will the medicine help him.

Every liberated person is like a physician. Out of compassion, he gives a prescription advising people how to free themselves of suffering. If people develop blind faith in that person, they turn the prescription into a scripture and start fighting with other sects, claiming that the teaching of the founder of their religion is superior. But no one cares to practise the teaching, to take the medicine prescribed in order to eliminate the malady.

Having faith in the doctor is useful if it encourages the patient to follow his advice. Understanding how the medicine works is beneficial if it encourages one to take the medicine. But without actually taking the medicine, one cannot be cured of the disease. You have to take the medicine yourself.

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