Joys of Onam and a reflection

Suppose that the whole universe were to be saved and made perfect and happy forever on just one condition: one single soul must suffer, alone, eternally. Would this be acceptable?

Philosopher William James asked that in his 1891 book, The Moral Philosopher and the Moral Life. Please think about it once again and answer the question for yourself. You, as well as others, are going to live a life without a tinge of sorrow. Joyful existence. Life in Paradise. The only condition is that one person will take up all the sorrows of the universe on him-/herself and suffer – alone, eternally. What do you say?

James’s answer is a firm no. “Not even a god would be justified in setting up such a scheme,” James asserted, knowing too well how the Bible justified a positive answer to his question. “It is expedient that one man should die for the people, so that the nation can be saved” [John 11:50]. Jesus was that one man in the Biblical vision of redemption.

I was reading a Malayalam periodical, Mathrubhumi, and the editorial led me to this contemplation. Subhash Chandran, the editor, introduces Ursula K Le Guin’s story The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas (1973) to speak about Onam, the grandest festival of Kerala. The editor, who is also a celebrated novelist, speaks of the sacrifice made by Maveli [Mahabali] for the sake of his people.

According to Kerala’s legends, Maveli was an ideal ruler of the state during whose reign the people were all happy. Kerala was a utopia then. The gods became jealous and decided to expel Maveli from his own country. No less an entity than God Vishnu took avatar in the form of Vamana in order to expatriate the ideal king to the underworld, Patala. Maveli was granted his last wish, however: permission to visit his people once a year. Onam is a celebration of his annual visit.

Ursula K Le Guin’s story presents another utopia.

Omelas is a radiant city filled with joy, music and celebration. Its citizens are intelligent, cultured, and free of guilt or cruelty. Omelas is no shallow paradise; it has depth, wisdom and enlightened happiness. But there is a terrible secret that sustains that depth and joy. Locked in a windowless room beneath one of the buildings is a child who is malnourished, filthy, neglected, living in utter misery. The people of Omelas know that their happiness and prosperity all depend upon this child’s continued suffering. If ever the child is comforted or freed, Omelas’s joy would collapse.

Most citizens, after initial shock and grief, accept this cruel bargain comforting themselves with the logic of the biblical expediency: one person can be sacrificed for the welfare of the nation. A few citizens, however, refuse to accept that expediency. They leave the city and head towards an unknown place that may not even exist. Some place “less imaginable” than Omelas. They accept uncertainty and the suffering that uncertainty can bring instead of living in a system built on injustice.

Whose suffering sustains our comfort? Sweatshops that exploit the poor, the Adivasis whose forests are snatched away in the name of development, those who are still considered Untouchable and denied dignity, the poorly paid invisible workers who sustain the glitter of the metros, women in patriarchal structures, religious minorities…?

Kerala that is all set to celebrate the annual visit of their ideal king and commemorate his utopia has travelled a long, long way from all those ideals. That is, Maveli sacrificed himself in vain. Did Jesus’ sacrifice save the world?

Were those sacrifices worth anything?

It is Subhash Chandran who draws a parallel between Maveli and Jesus, both of whom belong to the mythical realm of personal sacrifice and communal redemption. There is a difference, however. Maveli lived in order to sustain a paradise on earth, while Jesus died in order to establish a paradise on earth. Gods were not pleased with Maveli. And Jesus’ God turned out to be utterly helpless: the world only became worse year after year after the painful self-sacrifice of Jesus.

Subhash Chandran ends his editorial with a scene from Dostoevsky’s masterpiece, The Brothers Karamazov. Ivan Karamazov is discussing the problem of human suffering, especially children’s, with his brother Alyosha.

Ivan asks, “Imagine that you are creating a fabric of human destiny with the object of making men happy, of giving them peace and rest at last, but that it was essential and inevitable to torture to death only one tiny creature—that baby beating its breast with its fist, for instance—and to found that edifice on its unavenged tears, would you consent to be the architect on those conditions? Tell me, and tell the truth.”

Alyosha replies simply: “No, I would not consent.”

Dostoevsky posed the question philosophically. Le Guin dramatised it narratively. Kerala celebrates it annually. 

Part of Onam celebrations: image from Mathrubhumi

There is a big difference, however, between Omelas and Maveli’s utopia, I realise as I contemplate the two. Omelas is sustained by injustice, while the Maveli myth embodies noble self-sacrifice. The child in Omelas is innocent and unwilling, which makes the utopia’s foundation morally unacceptable. Maveli, on the other hand, is a powerful and virtuous king who chooses to bow before dharma, even if it costs him everything. His sacrifice is dignified, not degrading. So, Kerala is celebrating a noble self-sacrifice in the festival of Onam, in the first week of September this year.

Omelas and Maveli both raise the question: Can happiness exist without sacrifice? But the answers are different. In Omelas, some build happiness by exploiting the powerless. Onam is a celebration of the noble self-sacrifice of one person for the sake of dharma.

How far have our leaders come from Maveli? I wish they contemplated that during this Onam.