On Le Guin's Omelas

"The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas", by Ursula K. Le Guin, is available here: http://www-rohan.sdsu.edu/faculty/dunnweb/rprnts.omelas.pdf 

The following is my reflection on this piece:


What a wonderfully haunting short story! The potential for allegorical interpretation abounds because the story is so relevant and yet abrupt. My mind immediately seeks to find the reason, if one is given or implied, for the necessity of keeping such "imbecile" children locked up. If this could be understood, then perhaps we might gain some allegorical insight into the way in which we, in the American Omelas, treat our unfortunate ones.

First, we must notice that we can only speak of these children as 'unfortunate', since no systematic or environmental etiology is implied. The possibility of neglect is acknowledged, but how could this be in Omelas, where all are engaged in the work of happiness? No, these children were feeble-minded from birth, and only fate can be blamed for their estate. If they were ever neglected, it was because they did not seem to respond with the spark of life to the movement of the trees or the sound of music. Thus, this fatalistic etiology provides a grounding, both for the stopping of all discussion into the possibility of preventing such children from coming in the first place, and in the second place, it justifies the social myth which seeks to create a value out of their seemingly valueless existence. In essence, Omelas did not cause the child to be born this way, but Omelas must, of virtue, act justly in light of this brute fact. There is a brutal logic which follows from this myth of origin. It is here that the rock divides the stream of consciousness, between those who stay in Omelas, having accepted that brutal logic, and those who leave Omelas, having rejected it. They are the ones in search for another explanation of the origin of that child, and thus for their origin as well.

The fact that one was born unfortunate means that all others who find their place in the tempered felicity of Omelas are the fortunate ones. They do not need to seek any further for a purpose for their lives. They ought to pursue life to the fullest, beauty to the highest, because they are the fortunate ones. Fate could have chosen them to be in that unfortunate one's stead, and so life is a gift, a grace, and a debt which must be repaid with virtue. The Unfortunate One ends up being their scape goat, their Messiah, their salvation.

This answers the hardest question of Omelas's brutal logic: why not just kill the unfortunate one(s)? Actually, it may be, from the information given, that all but one of the unfortunate ones, if there are many, are killed once they are identified. Only one must be kept for the purpose of the brutal logic. Only one is necessary to be a spectacle of what is possible if the fortunate ones deny their godhood, the transmigration of their souls through virtue and art. The unfortunate one represents the animal nature of the flesh which is alienated from its soul. This is why it is useless to identify the child as either boy or girl. Sex, art, music, all of these are without gravity to it. This is why it is no great tragedy to keep it locked up, out of sight but not out of mind. The real tragedy is letting it live. This is the price that it must pay for the good of society. The unfortunate one is the shadow they cast by daring to stand in the Sun. They do not seek to make the shadow smaller by laying down, by coming nearer to the ground and remember their flesh and the dust from which they sprang. No, their destiny is to cast a shadow over the whole sphere of the Earth, blotting out the Sun, on the way of their ascent, as the moon might eclipse the Sun.

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How much does our religion, our civic mythology as Americans, as modern people, as those in the technological age of information, mimic that of Omelas? Or perhaps a more interesting question: to what extent does the Judeo-Christian ethic of the West result in the brutal logic of Omelas? One thing is sure: every time a capitalist propagandist exclaims that "One cannot multiply wealth by dividing it! There is no way for government to give wealth to some without taking it from others!" and other such phrases, he is plying wares of Omelian logic. What this Capitalist is saying is true, if we assume that those who are fortunate are so because of fate (and thus the Unfortunate One is born of fate as well). In order for Omelas to humanize the Unfortunate One, she must lie. She must be unjust. She must halt the music of the flutist, and ask him to go change the diaper of the Unfortunate One. The horses must be stabled because of the danger that the Unfortunate one may be trampled. There is no more time for games, since Omelas must stop euthanizing all the other unfortunate ones, and now the excess which gave Omelas her leisure and art is to be consumed with caring for those who cannot care for themselves. Omelas must become content with occupying her body forever. There is no time, being told by religion it is wrong to shirk her moral responsibility to care for all, to transcend her body and become like a god. This is the great tragedy; this is the stake. The issue, seen through Omelian eyes, is not one human life over another, but the life of God(s) over the life of an animal. The unfortunate one will die; there is no getting around that fact. And while its lungs pump air, it will not ever experience one moment of divine wonder. Why, the logic of Omelas begs, must so many gods be sacrificed on the altar of one animal who's doomed to die anyway. The gods live forever, transcending their bodies in pursuit of perfection, but Fate has already decided that the unfortunate one is dead to this chase. Thus, Omelas is not killing this Unfortunate One, it is already dead to all the values which transcend this life, and thus are the only values which really matter. No, Omelas actually honors the Unfortunate One by allowing it to play a role in the deification of Omelas, by being the black velvet upon which the diamonds of Omelas shine all the more brightly.

Do we justify our inhumane treatment of all flesh that is not alive in the soul to divine virtues? Sadly, I would say that this is true, but perhaps only true of the best of us. I am afraid that there is an unthinking sentimentalism which causes some of us to "care" for the needs of these unfortunate ones, but yet always looks on them as unfortunate. Thus, the power of the logic is only broken for these sentimental caretakers through incoherence. Perhaps this is a hidden virtue, to call another unfortunate, and yet not to treat oneself as fortunate, and thus to join the damned in their damnation. I do not know how to divide these things aright, but only to see that they are divided. The best of us, in our cruelty, understand the logic of Omelas. And we are prepared to confirm the damnation of Fate. We readily damn the Unfortunate ones, and all flesh which is not engaged in deification. We will use all animal life and all of the flesh of the earth if, through burning it, our souls might be raised into heaven on the smoke. 

The only alternative is to reject the fortune which Fate delivers, to reject it even as a concept. Perhaps "imbecile" children are born in Omelas because she has not yet learned charity. Perhaps there are ecological virtues as well. Perhaps there's no such thing as a weed. Perhaps one cannot become perfect through escaping the demands of the flesh.
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I might also speculate on the estate of those who leave Omelas. They do not go to another city; this is sure. No city can exist without casting a shadow on her countryside. There is no permanence to the city, nothing like the permanence of the redwood forest. The city is a launch pad for the cultured elite to blast off into heaven. It will consume the earth.