Omelas

I remember reading a story where in which a Utopian society called Omelas existed, where a thriving community of blissful, eloquent, and civilized people lived. Omelas, and those living within the city perpetuated in a state of splendor at the cost of a child, who was required to live in a constant state of disgust, darkness, and despair. When citizens grew older and aware enough, the existence of the child’s state became known. Most people became accustomed to the knowledge, and even accepted it, as a fee worth paying for their bliss to continue. A few, however, left, unable to handle staying. The author of this story, Ursuala K Le Guin, wrote about where these individuals went. She called it a place, “…even less imaginable to most of us than a city of happiness. It is possible it doesn’t exist.”

This story remains ever so relevant. And it forces me to contemplate the oxymoron of “informed ignorance”. I believe ignorance exists, and that it is not necessarily a punishable offense. The not knowing of pertinent information when a person is not sure such information existed is beyond their control. I do know that I know some, but the more that I learn, I realize that there is far, far more that I do not know, and that I would not be capable of learning it all in a lifetime despite my grandest efforts.

Informed ignorance is different. Having an understanding that there is something wrong, whether in your family, your community, your country, or the world, and purposely avoiding information is a deliberate decision to stay in the state of ignorance. This state may be chosen for several reasons but at the core of those reasons is, I believe, a resistance to and/or fear of change. For example, perhaps one may not want to look into certain types of food production to avoid being potentially repulsed by their favorite treats, or one may not want to look into their significant other’s whereabouts when they’re suspicious of fidelity. There is a fear in not just knowing but having to do something about the knowledge.

This concept is prevalent throughout society. There is a widespread avoidance of looking at opposing views or exploring new ideas, fearing what we potentially will not agree with or understand. It is natural, in my opinion, to fear what we do not know and to fear that knowledge of the unknown will change the stakes of our own perceived safety as we have come to understand it. Maintaining safety is innate. It is a skill of survival to address perceived threats with trepidation, regardless if those threats are physical, mental, or emotional. Thus it is an extremely high expectation to assume that all people would naturally or regularly gravitate toward the unfamiliar with ease.

I am in no way excusing or encouraging to stay in one’s comfort zone or realm of perceived safety. Nor am I discouraging it. I think that is the individual’s choice to navigate which is best and when each is best for them. The important thing to explore is what will the choice to remain ignorant cost you? What can one potentially lose and/or gain by residing only in a familiar place? What experiences will you have or miss by engaging only with like minded individuals? And if knowledge of “different” demands something different, is there an assumption that the new place of non-ignorance will be intolerable? If it is intolerable, what is telling you it will remain that way if change is the only constant?

I like to imagine Le Guin referred to the place those who leave Omelas go to as, “possible it doesn’t exist,” with hope that it does. I like to imagine those that left Omelas, those with dignity, humility, and a quest for justice, are those among us today. I hope that within us is an intolerance to hide within all privileges, including the privileges of wealth and power, at the cost of those without said privileges. I would like to imagine that I would have walked away from Omelas toward a place where a shelter of happiness can exist without the foundation of suffering holding it up. I like to imagine the risk of walking away, regardless of result, is a greater reward in and of itself than remaining in a facade of comfort.

The truth is, many of us are in Omelas. Many of us are privileged, based upon our wealth, our power, our country of residence, our community, our race, our gender, our career, our sexual orientation, our education, etc and many of us have not yet walked away, nor have we examined what it means to walk away. And unlike the story of Omelas, our lives are not linear, and we can potentially face walking away from an Omelas every day. My invitation to you is to examine what “walking away” would look like? How could figuratively “walking away from your Omelas” be possible? And ultimately, given what’s at stake in your world today, who do you want to be: an Omelas resident or one who walks away?