I admire those who walk away from Omelas.
I admire those who refuse to co-operate, however remotely, with some evil so that good might result. Those who because of one distant crime, committed against one unknown innocent, are willing to forfeit their livelihoods, leave their homes, be abandoned by their friends and reviled by their enemies.
I admire those who are not willing to do nothing, who are prepared to draw a line in the sand and say, thus far, and no further.
I admire those who walk away from Omelas. But I have not followed their example. I have told myself instead that their refusal is only a quixotic scrupulosity, and sometimes believed it.
I know that if we do nothing, the ghoulish use of fetal cell lines in medicine will continue. But I have gone along with everyone else and gotten vaccinated, as a condition of entering my workplace, as a condition of travelling on domestic aircraft. I have justified this decision to myself in two ways:
The first and greatest rationalisation (and O, how Dr Clam of years past would be disgusted with me) is obedience to authority. For I have come back to the Church of my ancestors precisely to put myself under authority, to put a bridle on my reason, to muzzle my logical and self-consistent consequentialist morality, since I needed some reason other than cowardice not to kill abortionists. So I have therefore to listen to the voice of the hierarchical Church. The Pope, and a fortiori to me the Pope Emeritus, have been vaccinated and encourage me to do the same. So I comply, following St. Loyola's principle, 'What seems to me white, I will believe black if the hierarchical Church so defines'.
The second rationalisation follows the principle of William S. Burroughs, 'to live is to collaborate'. I do not see how we can get away with remote co-operation with evil so that good may result. My logical and self-consistent consequentialist morality is still there, ticking away. It seems to me that there are more serious ways in which most people in most Western countries co-operate remotely with the evil of abortion.
Leaving aside the obvious abomination and far from remote co-operation of voting in the monstrous fiends who advocate such things: most people in the West pay taxes, and most people in the West lend legitimacy through participation in the electoral process to governments that allow abortion.
Civilised countries have government-funded healthcare, and civilised countries that are shot through with Satanic barbarism fund abortion. Money is fungible; so we pay for it. If I were to lose my job, I would have to go back to Australia and pay taxes.
Then there is that hard saying in Romans 13:1-2 about obeying the government. I can accept this without too much trouble if the government is an authoritarian one, since sovereignty is given by God. But a representative government makes the heretical claim that sovereignty derives from the people. In doing so, it claims to be acting in my name, and thus pollutes me with its crimes - with what it has done, and with what it has failed to do. Maybe this seems an insane scrupulosity to you. A brief anecdote: I voted for the more conservative candidate in a New South Wales state election, and a more conservative government was formed. Hooray. The more conservative premier proceeded to ram through legislation decriminalising abortion and bringing New South Wales into line with enlightened states like North Korea and the Renegade Mainland Provinces. Ffffff.... I mean, thank you, Gladys Berejiklian. I gave you a mandate and you used it to act diametrically opposite to everything I believe in. (Note to self: pray for soul of Gladys Berejiklian). If I were to lose my job, I would have to go back to Australia and participate in an electoral process that legitimised an abortion-allowing government.
So, those are my justifications.
A ninety-something German I have never met said it was a good idea; and if it is a bad idea, then there are other things that seem bad to me that I would have to do if I didn't do it.
Feeble justifications, or not?
Is it a quixotic scrupulosity, to walk away from Omelas?
Pray for us, Blessed Johanna Vera Alderliesten.
1 comment:
Chris, I read your meditation with a lot of respect. The honesty in it is rare. The Omelas image captures something real… the instinct that benefiting from hidden suffering is intolerable to a serious conscience. That instinct is morally healthy. A conscience that refuses to shrug at evil is a sign of life, not pathology.
What struck me most, though, is the tension you describe between two impulses.
On one side there is the drive toward perfect moral coherence… the refusal to cooperate even remotely with evil. On the other side there is the decision to place yourself under authority so that you no longer have to carry the full burden of that coherence yourself. You describe it very candidly: putting a bridle on your reason, even accepting Ignatius’ line about believing white to be black if the Church so defines.
That move is very revealing. It suggests that the attraction of a strong hierarchical Church is not only theological; it is also psychological and political. Authority absorbs the unbearable weight of moral decision-making.
Reading your piece reminded me of an argument Michael Jensen makes in Subjects and Citizens. Jensen contrasts two ways of imagining Christian life in society.
One model treats Christians primarily as subjects. Authority flows downward. Moral responsibility is resolved by obedience to the structures God has ordained. The hierarchy defines the boundaries of faithful action.
The other model treats Christians as citizens. Authority still exists, but believers are morally responsible agents who must exercise judgement, persuasion, and participation within a plural society. Conscience is not replaced by authority; it is formed and exercised under God.
The New Testament seems much closer to the second picture. The apostles certainly call for obedience, but they constantly form consciences rather than silence them. Paul reasons with communities, persuades them, and even allows believers to reach different conclusions on morally entangled issues (Romans 14). The early Church does not eliminate moral tension; it teaches believers how to live faithfully within it.
Your reflection about taxes, elections, and remote cooperation shows exactly why this matters. Once we begin tracing moral complicity through every layer of society, the logic becomes almost impossible to live with. If every indirect connection makes us morally responsible, then the entire structure of modern life becomes radioactive.
That is precisely why the Christian moral tradition developed distinctions like formal versus remote material cooperation. Without those distinctions, no one could live in the world at all.
And this is where Jensen’s insight is helpful. In a fallen world Christians cannot escape moral entanglement by finding the right hierarchy or the right political order. The task is not to become morally uncontaminated subjects under a perfect authority. The task is to live as faithful citizens of God’s kingdom within imperfect earthly structures.
Which means we will sometimes act, sometimes resist, sometimes comply reluctantly, and often repent. That is not cowardice. It is simply the condition of life between the resurrection and the new creation.
So when I read your meditation, I don’t see someone who failed to walk away from Omelas. I see someone wrestling honestly with the cost of living in a compromised world. The gospel does not promise a life free from those compromises. What it promises is something deeper: that the mercy of Christ covers the places where our moral clarity runs out, and that the Spirit continues to form our consciences as we try to live faithfully in the meantime.
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