“In
the grotesque and the freak, we see ourselves and our hungers. Discuss with reference to one or two
stories.”
The element of grotesque in the case of this essay is the
awful relationship in Ursula K. Le Guin’s short story “The Ones Who Walk Away
From Omelas” in which a seemingly perfect society, a single child bears
horrific torture. This story raises a
compelling ethical dilemma, so powerful to readers because in the mirror of
such a sick relationship, we see our own situation.
It would take no great stretch of the imagination to see
the city of Omelas as a representation of the United States, or even, the
overwhelming majority of Western Civilization.
The suffering child would then represent everything that the West steps
on in the pursuit of happiness. It’s
common knowledge that there is an undue amount of suffering in the world. There are peace groups and activists working
against these problems, of course, but how much work is actually being
done? Is it not true that most of us
don’t make an effort to help the unfortunate in other countries—in our own
country? Don’t we all flip to another
channel when we see images of starving children, and a voice asking us to
donate an amount of money that is insignificant to us?
It is the same in the city of Omelas;
“They all know it is there, all the
people of Omelas. Some of them have come
to see it, others are content merely to know it is there. They all know that it has to be there. 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 weather of their skies, depend wholly on this child’s abominable
misery.” (827)
This sounds very much like the predicament of the Western
civilian with a conscience. In simpler
terms, would you sacrifice all your things, your money, your house, in order to
benefit someone in need? The continued
presence of human suffering has shown that the most common answer to that
question is no. The substantial list that Le Guin writes in
the above quote gives a sense of the large sacrifice that the people of Omelas
would have to make in order to save the child.
The fact is that we the people of the West and of Omelas chose our own
happiness over the happiness of the miserable child.
Le Guin makes her point so compelling because of how
graphically she describes the enormous disparity between the joy of the people
of Omelas and the squalor of the chosen child.
The whole first half of the story is a detailed picture of the
celebrations taking place in the city.
In the opening lines, the picture of Omelas is extraordinarily idyllic;
“With a clamor of bells that set
the swallows soaring, the Festival of Summer came to the city. Omelas, bright-towered by the sea. The rigging of the boats in harbor sparkled
with flags. In the streets between
houses with red roofs and painted walls, between old moss-grown gardens and
under avenues of tree, past great parks and public buildings, processions
moved.” (824)
The opening features
alliteration that seems to suggest a lyrical and fantastical fairy-tale element
to Omelas. It is not a city that any of
us readers will ever encounter, and seems to perfect to actually exist. This surreal state of the city gives the
reader some detachment, and it is therefore easier to accept the sick secret
that makes possible such a paradise.
By speaking directly to the readers in the second person,
and instructing us to create our own version of the city, Le Guin underscores
that Omelas is more of an idea than an actual place, which also makes it much
easier to apply allegorical meaning to the story. It removes the accusations inevitable when
one writes about problems within the society the reader belongs to, allowing
readers to be properly critical of the situation presented.
“…they could perfectly well have
central heating, subway trains, washing machines, and all kinds of marvelous
devices not yet invented here, floating light-sources, fuelless power, a cure
of the common cold. Or they could have
none of that: it doesn’t matter. As you
like it.” (825)
Clearly, if we are
allowed to modify according to our whims, Omelas is not a real city. Even in the
reality of the story, the city—the physical setting itself—does not
matter. It is the ideas expressed within
it that are important. “The Ones Who
Walk Away from Omelas” is a lens with which to look at ourselves and our global
society.
Not only has Le Guin successfully created a disturbing
image of our own reality, but she has also created, within that scenario, an
entirely believable reaction to it;
“Often the young people go home in
tears, or in a tearless rage, when they have seen the child and faced this
terrible paradox. They may brood over it
for weeks or years. But as time goes on
they begin to realize that even if the child could be released, it would not
get much good in its freedom” (827).
Upon our first
experience with the terrible price of our happiness, it can be deeply
upsetting. But over time, we learn to
ignore or begin to justify and rationalize the problem away. The child’s misery is a sacrifice necessary
for the preservation of their lifestyle.
This then, begs the question of whether or not the people
of Omelas are in the right to let the child’s suffering continue. Le Guin chooses not to define what is right
and what is wrong in her story, thereby forcing the judgment onto the
reader. Of course, it is the reader as
well, who must decide right and wrong in the world which Omelas represents.
At the close of the story, Le Guin describes a bizarre
phenomenon—people who, without giving their fellow citizens a reason, simply
leave the city.
“These people go out into the
street, and walk down the street alone.
They keep walking, and walk straight out of the city of Omelas, through
the beautiful gates. Each one goes
alone, youth or girl, man or woman….The place they go towards is a place even
less imaginable to most of us than the city of happiness. I cannot describe it at all. It is possible that it does not exist.” (828)
In the same way that
she suggested that Omelas is not a place, but an idea, she describes the
destination of the travelers. Away is their destination—the actual
place in which they settle doesn’t matter, only that it is not part of Omelas.
Le Guin makes no mention of why these people are leaving,
but it seems to be that they are disenchanted with the system under which
Omelas operates. They leave, they do not
free the child, and they allow their fellow citizens to continue their joyous
life. Passively, ineffectively, the
disenchanted leave. Is this Le Guin’s
suggested remedy to the misery caused by the West? That we leave? Are the travelers doing what is right? Abandoning not only the hard won joy of their
home, but also abandoning the child to its fate—is that the answer?
The answer to that question, I don’t think exists. This story isn’t trying to instruct its
readers, but to provoke emotion. By
showing us a freakish (and accurate) portrait of ourselves in the objective
guise of fiction, “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas” forces us to confront
the problems our society.
