The Jain formulation of moral responsibility is unusually systematic. Harm is committed by doing it oneself, by causing another to do it, and by approving of it when done — krita, karita, anumodita — and each of those operates through mind, speech and body, which yields nine combinations, all of which the vow covers and all of which the texts enumerate. Approving is the one that catches people: eating meat you did not kill, investing in a business that does, cheering a war. Combined with the doctrine that passion is the glue that makes karma stick, this makes intention decisive — a monk who accidentally treads on an insect while sweeping carefully binds far less karma than a person who wants to kill and does not manage it. The practical apparatus that follows is enormous: the rajoharan whisk for sweeping a seat before sitting, the mouth-cloth against airborne organisms, walking only in daylight and only where you can see the ground, filtering water and returning the strainings, and the fifteen forbidden trades. None of it claims to reach zero. All of it is aimed at the interior state as much as the outcome.