One thing that kind of cuts against this reading is that the "utopia" part of Omelas is described much more vaguely than the dark secret. The first half of the story is basically "it's really nice, in the ways you think would be really nice. It's probably vaguely pastoral, but if you think that a pastoral setting would be boring or primitive, go ahead and imagine they have fusion power and trains or whatever. If utopia doesn't seem sexy enough, add an orgy." It has almost no specifics, just an invitation to picture whatever we think would be nice. There's flute music and horses, I guess.
On the other hand, the description of the child is unflinchingly precise. There is a child locked in a tiny broom closet in the basement, starving, living in its own excrement, feebleminded from neglect and isolation, pleading and screaming to be let out. The story tells us exactly how the child is abused and how it impacts the people of Omelas. That's why Omelas-with-a-dark-secret seems so much more real and believable than Omelas. Not because the cruelty gives it meaning or whatever, simply because the description is vivid and specific in a way that the first half of the story is not.
So if Le Guin is asking "why do we have so much trouble believing in a utopia?", my answer is "because you didn't give me anything to believe in." Asking me to imagine nice things isn't the same thing as worldbuilding.
Imagine this story had flipped the tone around, depicting Omelas in vivid detail and then following it up with "But you wouldn't believe in this utopia unless it had a dark secret, so I guess you should imagine it's powered by a tortured child or something." I probably would have had the opposite reaction - it would have seemed like something pointlessly tacked on to a perfectly nice fantasy city.
interestingly there are many examples of actually-existing-egalitarian-stateless societies (because there are of course non-egalitarian stateless societies) that have cosmologies and mythologies of constant conflict despite there being high degrees of relational egalitarianism between people. As Graeber wrote in Fragments of an Anarchist Anthropology
"In typical revolutionary discourse a “counterpower” is a collection of social institutions set in opposition to the state and capital: from selfgoverning communities to radical labor unions to popular militias. Sometimes it is also referred to as an “anti-power.” When such institutions maintain themselves in the face of the state, this is usually referred to as a “dual power” situation. By this definition most of human history is actually characterized by dual power situations, since few historical states had the means to root such institutions out, even assuming that they would have wanted to. But Mauss and Clastres’ argument suggests something even more radical. It suggests that counterpower, at least in the most elementary sense, actually exists where the states and markets are not even present; that in such cases, rather than being embodied in popular institutions which pose themselves against the power of lords, or kings, or plutocrats, they are embodied in institutions which ensure such types of person never come about. What it is “counter” to, then, is a potential, a latent aspect, or dialectical possibility if you prefer, within the society itself.
This at least would help explain an otherwise peculiar fact; the way in which it is often particularly the egalitarian societies which are torn by terrible inner tensions, or at least, extreme forms of symbolic violence."
I have to say I found this story a bit silly the first time I read it; people who walk away from this utopia are rejecting a society that is almost certainly better than anything else that exists. Almost the definition of the perfect being the enemy of the good. Doesn't help that I find it hard to understand people who aren't consequentialists.
Still, I like your take. I hadn't thought much about the meaning within the attempt to describe the society. I should probably read the story again with this perspective.
"Fundamentally, The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas is a story about fiction. The narrator is desperate to convince, but knows that whatever they say the reader will find the utopia implausible. Surely the people of Omelas are goody-two-shoes, they think. Shallow because they have no pain and injustice to endure. The revelry is empty, the beauty a facade."
I think this is a super weird sentiment. Reading the story I didn't think "oh man, a utopia, how unrealistic!" I just took it in stride that there was this cool utopia. I didn't have to be convinced. I don't think many other readers did either? You just imagine your ideal society. And then they tell you about the child thing and you're like OH NO IT'S NOT REALLY A UTOPIA and that's sort of the reversal.
I guess what I'm saying is I didn't experience any of the arc you're talking about.
I'm not sure that the viciously sarcastic paragraph is sarcastic pe se; I think it's saying "Fine, you insist that the city must have a trade-off. So here's the trade-off." and describing said trade-off. In Omelas, it truly *is* the case that they can't be compassionate without mistreating the kid. That's because of the devil's bargain (or whatever) that keeps the rest of Omelas happy. Like you say, the author's trying a reductio ad absurdum to say that it doesn't have to be that way in real life; but if she is, then Omelas must have the compassion/cruelty dynamic as a true (ie, real within the universe of the story) trade-off, just to show how ridiculous it would be if it were really a trade-off.
(The dang song started playing in my head by the time I read "95%". Rodgers could do some earworms.)
One thing that kind of cuts against this reading is that the "utopia" part of Omelas is described much more vaguely than the dark secret. The first half of the story is basically "it's really nice, in the ways you think would be really nice. It's probably vaguely pastoral, but if you think that a pastoral setting would be boring or primitive, go ahead and imagine they have fusion power and trains or whatever. If utopia doesn't seem sexy enough, add an orgy." It has almost no specifics, just an invitation to picture whatever we think would be nice. There's flute music and horses, I guess.
On the other hand, the description of the child is unflinchingly precise. There is a child locked in a tiny broom closet in the basement, starving, living in its own excrement, feebleminded from neglect and isolation, pleading and screaming to be let out. The story tells us exactly how the child is abused and how it impacts the people of Omelas. That's why Omelas-with-a-dark-secret seems so much more real and believable than Omelas. Not because the cruelty gives it meaning or whatever, simply because the description is vivid and specific in a way that the first half of the story is not.
So if Le Guin is asking "why do we have so much trouble believing in a utopia?", my answer is "because you didn't give me anything to believe in." Asking me to imagine nice things isn't the same thing as worldbuilding.
Imagine this story had flipped the tone around, depicting Omelas in vivid detail and then following it up with "But you wouldn't believe in this utopia unless it had a dark secret, so I guess you should imagine it's powered by a tortured child or something." I probably would have had the opposite reaction - it would have seemed like something pointlessly tacked on to a perfectly nice fantasy city.
interestingly there are many examples of actually-existing-egalitarian-stateless societies (because there are of course non-egalitarian stateless societies) that have cosmologies and mythologies of constant conflict despite there being high degrees of relational egalitarianism between people. As Graeber wrote in Fragments of an Anarchist Anthropology
"In typical revolutionary discourse a “counterpower” is a collection of social institutions set in opposition to the state and capital: from selfgoverning communities to radical labor unions to popular militias. Sometimes it is also referred to as an “anti-power.” When such institutions maintain themselves in the face of the state, this is usually referred to as a “dual power” situation. By this definition most of human history is actually characterized by dual power situations, since few historical states had the means to root such institutions out, even assuming that they would have wanted to. But Mauss and Clastres’ argument suggests something even more radical. It suggests that counterpower, at least in the most elementary sense, actually exists where the states and markets are not even present; that in such cases, rather than being embodied in popular institutions which pose themselves against the power of lords, or kings, or plutocrats, they are embodied in institutions which ensure such types of person never come about. What it is “counter” to, then, is a potential, a latent aspect, or dialectical possibility if you prefer, within the society itself.
This at least would help explain an otherwise peculiar fact; the way in which it is often particularly the egalitarian societies which are torn by terrible inner tensions, or at least, extreme forms of symbolic violence."
I have to say I found this story a bit silly the first time I read it; people who walk away from this utopia are rejecting a society that is almost certainly better than anything else that exists. Almost the definition of the perfect being the enemy of the good. Doesn't help that I find it hard to understand people who aren't consequentialists.
Still, I like your take. I hadn't thought much about the meaning within the attempt to describe the society. I should probably read the story again with this perspective.
"Fundamentally, The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas is a story about fiction. The narrator is desperate to convince, but knows that whatever they say the reader will find the utopia implausible. Surely the people of Omelas are goody-two-shoes, they think. Shallow because they have no pain and injustice to endure. The revelry is empty, the beauty a facade."
I think this is a super weird sentiment. Reading the story I didn't think "oh man, a utopia, how unrealistic!" I just took it in stride that there was this cool utopia. I didn't have to be convinced. I don't think many other readers did either? You just imagine your ideal society. And then they tell you about the child thing and you're like OH NO IT'S NOT REALLY A UTOPIA and that's sort of the reversal.
I guess what I'm saying is I didn't experience any of the arc you're talking about.
I wonder if you've ever read "Pacific Rim" by Kim Stanley Robinson? It's his attempt to imagine a real, no-cheats utopian society.
I'm not sure that the viciously sarcastic paragraph is sarcastic pe se; I think it's saying "Fine, you insist that the city must have a trade-off. So here's the trade-off." and describing said trade-off. In Omelas, it truly *is* the case that they can't be compassionate without mistreating the kid. That's because of the devil's bargain (or whatever) that keeps the rest of Omelas happy. Like you say, the author's trying a reductio ad absurdum to say that it doesn't have to be that way in real life; but if she is, then Omelas must have the compassion/cruelty dynamic as a true (ie, real within the universe of the story) trade-off, just to show how ridiculous it would be if it were really a trade-off.
(The dang song started playing in my head by the time I read "95%". Rodgers could do some earworms.)
I wrote a post that argues that Le Guin frames the story such that the action of walking away is only a spiritual victory, and not a utilitarian victory: https://wearsshoes.tumblr.com/post/185262330136/hedonic-utilitarianism-suggests-one-should-not
Whether you interpret this as a problem with human intuition or utilitarianism is up to the reader.
> I know the Scott Alexander deep cuts, okay.
Geez, I thought *I* did, but I don't recognize that one, you've got me beat there! :P