Stealing flowers

by Simon Longstaff

As many of you will know, this is the twentieth year of the open gardens program in Australia’s Garden State, Victoria. The curtain raiser for this anniversary season was provided by Dame Elizabeth Murdoch; who opened her renowned Cruden Farm to the public a fortnight ago.

Now, imagine that one of her visitors had come armed with secateurs and the intention to pinch a handful of Dame Elizabeth’s massed daffodils by the lake. Would this have been wrong to do? More generally, how should we evaluate the actions of those who knock off a bloom or two from their neighbour’s garden, or scrump apples from another’s orchard?

To some people, the answer to these questions will seem obvious. Taking or using another person’s property without their permission is wrong – so wrong that such behaviour is, in many cases, a criminal offence punishable by imprisonment. In general terms, it seems self-evident that we should be able to enjoy the use of our property without interference by others. Even governments – with their extensive powers to tax and acquire through compulsion – require the consent of parliament. The idea that someone might cheat or steal from us is repugnant – irrespective of our relative wealth or power.

Of course, some people reject the very idea of owning private property – sometimes as a matter of religious conviction, sometimes for reasons of ideology. Those who hold that everything should be held in common (or not held at all) will not agree that taking a flower is wrong – even if it is located across a fence (not that they would have much time for fences either). If they object, then it is likely to be based on other grounds. For example, cutting a bunch of Dame Elizabeth’s blossoms might be condemned as a kind of aesthetic crime – a vandal destroying the integrity and beauty of the garden.

Mind you, I don’t think that the ‘no private property’ case is going to get much traction these days. Interestingly, there is a ‘middle position’ that comes from a rather surprising source.

Amongst other things, the Seventeenth Century philosopher, John Locke, is credited with being one of the strongest advocates for the rights of individuals to hold property. Locke referred to ‘property’ in two senses. In the broad sense, he included a wide range of human goods – most notably the rights to life and liberty. In the narrower sense, Locke used the tem much as we do today – as ‘stuff’ that we make and accumulate. And it is at this point that his argument gets interesting.

Although Locke was a great defender of property rights, he also argued that you could not own more than you could use. Indeed, Locke believed waste to be an ‘offense against nature’. A person might enclose land and plant an orchard, but if he grew more than he could eat without waste, then Locke would allow any person to take and make use of the surplus. It is only the invention of money (ideally made from an incorruptible substance like gold) that allows for the possibility of converting a perishable surplus into a durable store of value. Seen in this light, we might ‘scrump’ a surplus apple liable to go to waste – but we dare not steal the orchardist’s money – for the latter would be wrong.

What this tells us is that, at the level of ethical principle (please remember I am not talking about the law) there may be occasions when it is okay (and even right) to make use of a perishable item without the permission of the person who claims (perhaps without justification) to be its owner. From an ethical perspective, this will not be ‘stealing’ because the claim to ownership (in such cases) is unfounded.

Now, one of the problems with this approach is that it becomes quite difficult to determine what is (and is not) surplus liable to go to waste. For example, plucking a neighbour’s carefully cultivated prize rose (for a buttonhole) has got to be wrong – even if the rose is destined to wilt. Apart from anything else, if the value of the flower is solely aesthetic (it is beautiful and nothing more) then your actions deprive the breeder of the joy of appreciating a rare instance of creation.

On the other hand, if the flower is really languishing unnoticed and untended in some obscure part of a garden, or if it is indistinguishable amidst a mass of blooms, then there may be no great wrong in it being used for some good purpose; presumably without ever being missed by its putative owner. All the better, if such a bud can be nipped without trespass or other offence to your neighbour!

Discuss icon discuss this article


Dr Simon Longstaff is Executive Director of St James Ethics Centre.

A version of this article was first published in The Sunday Age on 9 September 2007

© St James Ethics Centre

© St James Ethics Centre