Utopia, a much cherished and desired dream of man is impossible in a world that has turned a callous heart to suffering, from sheer powerlessness. The picturesque and serene backdrop of Omelas that is bustling with the vibrant and colorful procession, is offset by the subtle but haunting presence of the degenerate and despondent human child that all have turned their back on. Where do we draw the line on our need for happiness, if it infringes upon another’s joy? The gaiety and normalcy that is in stark contrast to the cold resolve and detachment to human suffering is unbelievably shocking. The air of celebration that pervades the place is not real and untainted after all! The existence of the human child, suffering from misery and malnutrition, seems like an unbearable oxymoron.
Man’s scramble for power, his desire to make for himself a name under the stars, and his attempt to grasp joy that is ever fleeting, makes him take on a compromising stance. In this child locked up in the dark, dank room is epitomized the evils of society that man turns its back on, on a daily basis. Le Guin’s central theme thus portrays this dual personality of man most explicitly. “Children dodged in and out, their high calls rising like the swallows' crossing flights over the music and the singing” (Guin 242-43), while one child lay ignored, starved and dying.
As we read the story we can’t help the anger and unbelief that rises within us at this injustice. Yet, how many times in life have we similarly turned our back to a situation despite the anguish within? The coexistence of good and evil in man’s nature, in society and in the world seems to be an inevitable fact. This city that is beautiful in its simplicity and untainted by technology or modern luxuries is nevertheless complex and far from unadulterated.
Le Guin’s noncommittal tone, merely paints the picture while leaving us to form our own opinions. The central theme strikes a chord deep within and reminds me of what Martin Luther once said, “to ignore evil is to become an accomplice to it.” This refusal to ignore, to coexist with the evil, is seen in the choice those few make, as “they leave Omelas, they walk ahead into the darkness, and they do not come back” (Guin 246). This walking away nevertheless is only a frail substitute to the courageous stand against evil that one is meant to take.
As I read this story, I had an epiphany, if you will, of issues in society today that go unnoticed. The rich get richer, while the poor remain hungry and homeless. On a recent drive down The Strip, I witnessed a disoriented man, lost in a mindless world and engaged in a conversation with himself. Everything in me wanted to reach out to him but I helplessly drove on, determined to push the thought out of my mind. Yet, I was reminded of another time, a year ago, when I bought a meal for a dear old man and emptied out the little I had saved to treat myself to a weekend’s shopping, for him. How I would love to perpetually live in the latter and yet, the former is the norm. We are sometimes caught between moving through life and watching from the sidelines, unable to slow down and powerless to make significant contributions.
The music that reverberated through the streets of Omelas in clear joyful tones was a vein attempt to squelch the drone of pitiful reality. How often do we similarly try to detach ourselves from the innumerable issues that surround us? Unborn babies continue to die voiceless as we scurry through life too busy to lend them our voice! Countless innocent women and children get trafficked into the ever-growing sex-trade industry, while we sip lemonade on our back porches and plan our next vacation. Are we really better than the citizens of Omelas?
Le Guin composed “The One’s Who Walk Away from Omelas,” between 1960 and 1970, a time when America was involved in the Vietnam War and people were experiencing the cruel claws of death and the merciless effects of war. War is one such paradox, where like the people of Omelas, “some of them understand why, and some do not, but they all understand that their happiness, the beauty of their city, the tenderness of their friendships, the health of their children, the wisdom of their scholars, the skill of their makers, even the abundance of their harvest and the kindly weathers of their skies, depend wholly on this child’s abominable misery” (Guin 245). Even though war involves mass destruction, war is sometimes the essential price you pay to defeat dictatorship, to silence the power hungry, to abolish slavery, or to be the voice against communism. Freedom is seldom free.
I wholeheartedly embrace Le Guin’s theory against the “pedants and sophisticates” who consider “only pain is intellectual, only evil interesting” (Guin 243). Surely there is no benefit in ignoring or tolerating evil. While pain can undoubtedly instill in one a maturity and wisdom that would otherwise remain unlearned, orchestrating pain in someone else and turning a blind eye to their suffering is quite the opposite. The former is necessary while the latter is unethical and not within the bounds of human right or reasoning. “To embrace violence is to lose hold of everything else” (Guin 243), which aptly describes what the citizens of Omelas have reduced themselves to. There is indeed no praise in despair itself, only praise in the lessons learnt out of despair.
Is there a way out? Can man find a possible solution that will not force him to take the path of passive resignation? Must every Utopian society be built upon a rotten foundation, as is symbolized by the child in Omelas? Must the enormity of the task so overwhelm us, that we are crippled with utter hopelessness? Must we pass through life with this premeditated notion of our inability to orchestrate change?
The answer lies in envisioning every supposed insignificant contribution, as making a change nevertheless. Ranging from wiping away a tear or creating a rainbow for someone on a cloudy day, to initiating a protest for the child in Omelas, we start with the seemingly simple and inconsequential trifles that are within our reach. Like Mahatma Gandhi said, “be the change you want to see in the world.”
Like little drops make an ocean, we are only responsible for the paths we cross, the lives we can touch and the issues that stir our conscience. We can, by taking responsibility for our sphere of influence rid ourselves of this dual personality. We can by no means give place to the phantom of indolence, negligence and lax idleness. It is imperative that we begin to shake off indifference, and cultivate active confidence in ourselves. Every life lived meaningfully will create the desired ripple effect we seek. One voice of sensitive persuasion and humane reasoning can be the thorn to burst the bubble that the people of Omelas have created for themselves. We must however essentially determine to burst the bubble we have chosen to live in ourselves.
It takes the belligerent resolve of a singular individual to begin to cut through the steely apathy and nonchalance of a few, and then an entire city. The innate dual nature of man can be surpassed, even conquered. We must still the voice of fear and doubt as we rise above, push past and prevail over the dual nature that threatens to incapacitate man and render us debilitated.
Works Cited
Guin, Ursula K Le. "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas." Literature: An Introduction to Fiction, Poetry, Drama and Writing. Ed X.J. Kennedy and Dana Gioia. 11th ed. New York: Longman 2010 242-246
n.p. “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas: Historical Context.” E Notes. n.p. 2011. n.p. 12 Sept. 2011 <http://www.enotes.com/ones-who-walk-away-omelas/historical-context >
Thripp, Richard X. “Critical Analysis: The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas.” n.p. Thripp, Richard X. 2008. n.p. 12 Sept. 2011 <http://richardxthripp.thripp.com/2008/01/critical-analysis-omelas/>
