Having read Ursula K. Le Guin's "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas," one will long remember the beautiful and happy city described by the author and the painful intrusion of reality when the reader is presented with the moral dilemma. At first, most of us are likely to resent the happiness of Omelas and consider walking away the only option. Indeed, the story was written as an illustration of the moral principle of rejecting happiness if it comes at the expense of another (Collins). However, considering ourselves morally superior to the people who stay rings hollow once we make simple parallels with our own reality. Besides, most people stay in Omelas, and perhaps we should look more closely at the structure of their universe - there's more to the city and the condition governing its existence than senseless scapegoating.

There is no doubt about the allegorical nature of the story; Le Guin herself notes in the introduction that "the dilemma of the American conscience can hardly be better stated" (qtd. in Collins). Indeed, the parallel is clear - just as theirs, our society favors some at the expense of others. There is also a difference: whereas in Omelas one child suffers, the number of victims in our world is innumerably greater.

From the beginning of human history, societies have been constantly changing, evolving from virtually egalitarian hunting-and-gathering tribes to complex economic systems of postindustrialism. We live on one planet, but in different worlds - first world countries, second world, third - all too familiar. However, most of the advanced countries owe their current superiority to the riches of countries they once subjugated and the hard labor of peoples they enslaved; the history of human progress is that of war and dominance.

Even though we left slavery and colonization in the past, in our world one's prosperity still depends on another's misfortune. Although the world economy produces several times the amount of food needed to feed all, many are starving; immigrants work jobs nobody else wants and receive a pittance; workers are unemployed because their factories were moved overseas - we all know the numerous instances of injustice and who profits from them. These are our "children in the closet," and although we don't think much about this side of our lives, it is no less real than the suffering child in Omelas.

Yet we don't seem to be walking away. Few of us donate every spare penny or volunteer to fight AIDS in Africa. Instead, we enjoy education and careers. We go holiday shopping and travel around the world. Those unfortunates (at least, most of them) are far away, and our lives are here and now. Besides, we are not to blame, and even if we chose to struggle for them, we couldn't help much. This is what we tell ourselves, and all of it is true. But let's be honest - we are those who stay, those who play by the rules and don't mind having a head start in the game.

And what of Omelas, bright-towered by the sea? The existence of the suffering child denies Omelas' utopian bliss. Yet the city's life is very close to utopia - much closer than ours is. There are no wars and no soldiers. There are rules - "singularly few" - but there are no rulers (426). Religion serves people, and not vice versa. They are sufficiently advanced technologically, but their existence does not revolve around progress. Rather, it revolves around life itself - for theirs is worth living.

The people of Omelas are happy. Something prevents us from accepting this truth (those monsters! Have they no heart?), but we seem to forget that there are happy people even in our world where many more injustices threaten the peace of one's mind. But shouldn't the people of Omelas at least feel guilty? Despite the author's "deliberately naive disavowal of guilt in Omelas," puzzled critics think that they definitely should (Brandt; Knapp). However, since this opinion contradicts the author's the issue of guilt invites further thinking.

Much of the author's description of Omelas is fill-in-the-blank: "I do not know the rules and laws of their society..."; "they could perfectly well have central heating...Or they could have none of that"; "I think there ought to be beer." But there seems to be something the author is sure about and indicates with all certainty: "One thing I know there is none of in Omelas is guilt" (426-27). How strange. However, when we think about the dark secret of Omelas, the condition of the city's happiness, we realize that it is not the people of Omelas who created the rule. It is not they who put the child in the closet, and it is not in their power to release it - indeed, no one ever tries to rescue the child.

We read: "If the child were brought up into the sunlight out of that vile place, if it were cleaned and fed and comforted, that would be a good thing, indeed; but if it were done, in that day and hour all the prosperity and beauty and delight of Omelas would wither and be destroyed" (428). Destroying the entire city's life and glory in a day (worse - in an hour) does not sound like something people could possibly accomplish. And so we have no choice but to accept that the condition is of divine, not human, nature. It is, indeed, a strange arrangement. But our example of God sacrificing His own Son so that people could have salvation might seem no less strange for someone born in Omelas.

Why, then, should they feel guilty about something they didn't do and have no control over? Guilt being one of the most devastating emotions, if it were allowed to reside within the city walls, the bargain would lose its meaning, as would the entire story - guilty people cannot be happy and enjoy life. Since we do not want the story to lose its point, let's accept the guiltless and happy Omelas, just as the author repeatedly invites us to. After all, this is a necessary step for us in reaching beyond the moral challenge itself to the vital role it plays in shaping their lives.

One suffers so that others could be happy; the idea of scapegoating, no doubt, is not a pleasant one. But is this what happens in Omelas? Besides the fact that it is quite hard to comprehend how the wretched one's misery can actually bring happiness to the city, it is also unclear why every adolescent is told about the child and many go to see it. In our world, if something poses a threat to our peace of mind, the less we know about it, the better. But the story makes it clear that they need to know about the child; perhaps it's even part of the arrangement. In a way, their awareness seems intended to guide their moral development.

When something tragic happens to us or our loved ones, the experience changes the way we see the world and deal with it. If a person's best friend died of a drug overdose, the person will be careful with drugs; if a boy's sister was raped, he will never be abusive with women. But not that many of us have had this kind of experience, and crime and accident statistics on TV and in newspapers rarely have the poser to affect us the way our personal experience would.

In Omelas, however, the suffering child is very real, and its misery induces insight rather than guilt. Young people come to realize what a priceless gift their life is when they learn about the little one that never sees sunlight. They can't release it, but they owe it to the child not to bring more suffering into the world, and they will not waste their lives on grudges, animosity, and crime.

Instead, they will try to make the world better, multiplying the riches of their culture and celebrating life. We find the direct support of this idea in the text: "it is their tears and anger, the trying of their generosity and the acceptance of their helplessness, which are perhaps the true source of the splendor of their lives" (429). The child's suffering does not take away theirs, and it does not by itself bring happiness to Omelas. Instead, people make the right choices in life, and they build their happiness themselves.

The view of Omelas as happy and functional does not negate the existence of people who walk away. It does, however, change our perspective on their motives. While some critics consider their leaving an escape from "hideous" and "unfit for human habitation" Omelas (Knapp), we can choose to view their decision differently. They leave because they believe in the possibility of the alternative - the world where people would not need to be constantly reminded of the dark side of life to appreciate their good fortune. Chances are, sooner or later they will build this better world.

It can be difficult to see the familiar patterns in the fictional world of Omelas, just as it is difficult to discern in its name the familiar name of the American city (Salem, O(regon) on the sign that Le Guin saw backwards in her rearview mirror). Le Guin, the "high priestess of science fiction" (Sherwin), uses her talent to give a wake-up call to people who choose to ignore certain facets of the world because they can't deal with them. She shows that those who won't actively fight injustice do not have to be passive observers. They, too, can make a difference by changing, to begin with, their own attitudes and behavior. Instead of shunning disturbing truth, people can learn from them and let this knowledge guide their future choices, making their lives richer and the world they life in happier.