As a child, I was captivated by the haunting tales of Ursula K. Le Guin, and her story of Omelas has always stayed with me. It wasn’t until much later, when I found myself amidst the chaos of Seoul’s bustling streets, that I truly understood the profound impact these stories would have on my life.
Initially, I hadn’t thought about spending my time revisiting the series like Snowpiercer. However, with its final season approaching, the idea of that perpetual train somehow captivated me. Consequently, I decided to watch the 2013 film and, all of a sudden, ideas began to flow. It turns out that Snowpiercer isn’t merely about individuals stuck on a frozen train; it symbolizes the forces that drive that train forward. Interestingly enough, it shares some similarities with Ursula K. Le Guin’s “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas.
Exploring a new angle: The themes in Omelas, Snowpiercer, The Beast Below, and now BTS’s Spring Day seem strikingly similar – they all delve into the idea of societies thriving on hidden sacrifices. As I was making these connections, the song ‘Spring Day’ unexpectedly came to mind. Yes, you heard that correctly! The music video offers a jarring blend of visual and emotional impact by drawing parallels with Omelas and Snowpiercer. Let’s dive into this intriguing web of connections, as we unravel themes of trains, sacrifice, and moral quandaries.
A journey of sacrifice
Ursula K. Le Guin’s “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas” presents a thought-provoking dilemma: a perfect city that exists due to a single unforgivable secret. Omelas is a place free of sorrow and hardship, yet its joy and tranquility stem from the pain of one child, confined in a small, dimly lit room, denied any kindness. The inhabitants of Omelas are aware of this child’s existence, but they have chosen to accept the bargain—one life for the happiness of many. Those who find it unbearable to live with this knowledge choose to leave the city.
In a simpler and more conversational way: Ursula Le Guin doesn’t make things straightforward for readers. Instead, she poses a moral dilemma that leaves us pondering – is it justified if a society chooses to sacrifice an innocent for the greater good? And she ends by showing characters who turn their backs on the system without finding a solution. They abandon the child in a state of unresolved conflict. Although they manage to evade their guilt, the problem still persists.
In the fictional universe of ‘Snowpiercer’, tensions are equally intense as the line between life and death is drawn on a relentlessly moving train. This post-apocalyptic story unfolds within the confines of a perpetual railway, where the remnants of humanity huddle together after a catastrophic climate collapse. The narrative delves into a society characterized by immense class disparity, with opulence at the front carriages and hardship in the rear. At the core of this unbalanced system is Timothy, a child who labors within the train’s mechanical heart, maintaining its momentum. His function echoes that of Le Guin’s character – hidden away, enduring pain for what appears to be the greater good and survival of the entire train.
In the short story “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas” and the film “Snowpiercer”, a philosophical query arises, albeit framed differently. While in Omelas, the inhabitants consciously disregard the suffering of an innocent child to uphold their utopian city, in Snowpiercer, the upper class exploit the lower classes for comfort and stability. Yet, the underlying question remains consistent: How much are we prepared to sacrifice – be it compassion or justice – for our own well-being? Is such a system morally justifiable when it thrives on the misery of others?
The big question remains: is it ever justifiable to sacrifice one for the greater good? And who’s really making that call? This ethical dilemma has been questioned in philosophy, reality, and especially in science fiction for a long time. It brings to mind Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan, where this very question is central to the plot. In fact, I read and translated a book into Portuguese titled “Star Trek: The Wrath of Kant”, which explores philosophical themes within the Star Trek universe. The title itself is a clever nod to Immanuel Kant’s ethical theories, contrasting utilitarian perspectives with deontological ethics, raising deeper questions about sacrifice, duty, and moral imperatives. In Star Trek, we see this conflict play out as characters grapple with the weight of such decisions, questioning who has the authority to decide the value of one life versus the many.
Enter The Beast Below: Same Ride, Different Destination
Subsequently, we dive into the realm of ‘Doctor Who’, specifically ‘The Beast Below’. In this installment, the existence of mankind hangs precariously on the hands of a secretive, tormented entity. The narrative unfolds as the Doctor and Amy explore Starship UK, a colossal vessel scouring the cosmos for a new home for Earth’s remaining populace. However, there’s a twist – this enormous ship operates by harnessing the agony of a celestial whale, tethered and shocked to keep the ship in motion. The inhabitants on board are faced with a dilemma: they can uncover the truth or have their memories erased, allowing them to live in contented oblivion.
In stories like Omelas, Snowpiercer, and The Beast Below, the hardships and suffering are concealed, confined out of sight. However, Doctor Who presents an intriguing twist: it poses a question – do you wish to learn about the suffering that powers your world, or would you prefer to remain ignorant? The Doctor, always standing for what’s right, chooses to liberate the whale, risking the stability of the system and placing faith in its ability to steer the ship. Yet, there’s no simple triumph here. Although the whale is freed, it’s crucial to remember that for years, human survival has been sustained by this creature’s pain. Is it ever right to justify the means by the ends?
In these tales, the idea of selfless sacrifice is profoundly woven, yet it encompasses more than mere suffering; it delves into the decisions individuals make, whether they maintain or overthrow systems that foster pain and misery. The story Omelas illustrates those who elect to leave, Snowpiercer portrays revolutionaries, and The Beast Below offers a choice between remembrance or oblivion.
Spring Day: The train we didn’t see coming
Next up is the moving picture “Spring Day” by BTS, which artfully connects deep philosophical musings to an emotional odyssey. In this video, the train in “Spring Day” serves not as a dystopian conveyance but as a metaphor for time’s passage and the burden of sorrow and recollection. However, the train imagery, particularly one arriving at an empty station, shares similarities with “Snowpiercer.” This is a voyage fraught with emotional luggage, a means of travel that advances while simultaneously leaving something behind.
In addition, the song “Spring Day” makes a subtle allusion to Omelas through its name. Just as the characters in Omelas and “Spring Day” grapple with loss and sacrifice, they question what we must relinquish to advance. This theme echoes the same query posed by other stories: how do we continue living when confronted with the awareness of what has been forsaken or sacrificed for survival or progress?
The symbolism in this song is particularly powerful when considering its connection to the Sewol Ferry disaster, an unfortunate incident that claimed many young lives in South Korea. The song’s themes of sorrow, resilience, and navigating life after such a catastrophic event resonate strongly with the emotions experienced following this tragedy. In much the same way that Omelas compels its inhabitants to acknowledge the price of their joy, Spring Day prompts us to ponder the national grief it represents, questioning how individuals cope with the weight of such a loss and how society can progress despite carrying this burden.
Instead of the bleak dystopias depicted in “Snowpiercer” and “The Beast Below”, “Spring Day” presents a more poetic exploration of these themes. Similar to “Omelas”, it carries a profound yet subtle weight, conveying its message through lyrical means. While not as violent as “Omelas”, the emotional intensity and contemplation on loss are equally impactful.
The train transforms into a site of sorrow, embodying the path through grievance, yet it’s not bereft of optimism. It implies that as we bear our losses, we can still advance. However, it doesn’t avoid the heftiness of this journey—much like in Omelas, there’s a cost, but it’s an emotional burden within us.
The final stop: A reflection
In essence, these narratives portray a recurring theme: societies that rely on some form of sacrifice, which may not always be immediately visible. This could range from an oppressed child, a hardworking underclass, or even a tormented whale. Each tale invites us to scrutinize the structures we inhabit – are we unwittingly part of these systems, such as the residents of Omelas who accept the child’s suffering as essential? Or are we advocates for change, like the revolutionaries in Snowpiercer? Alternatively, do we choose to disregard, to remain oblivious, similar to the citizens of Starship UK?
Additionally, there’s the song “Spring Day” that doesn’t depict a dystopian setting but instead encourages us to confront our sorrows and losses. It’s not about deciding whether to flee or resist, but rather learning how to bear the burden of what we’ve lost in life.
As the TV series “Snowpiercer” nears its conclusion, it distinguishes itself from other dystopian adaptations that didn’t quite make it, such as the recent misstep with “Uglies.” However, “Snowpiercer,” which originated as a graphic novel, has remarkably transitioned across different platforms, from cinema to television, without derailing the train’s progress. As we approach the final destination, there seems to be an underlying sense of mystery in the atmosphere.
The series concludes by leaving us pondering over lingering conflicts, mysteries unsolved, and a feeling that the struggle for revolution, survival, and the sacrifices endured won’t cease once the closing credits play. It prompts us to question what becomes of the world it departed, as if the train has arrived at its destination yet the journey might persist, trapping us within the system, questioning our role – are we part of the solution or merely passengers on an unending path?
Ultimately, these tales provoke us with unresolved mysteries, urging us to ponder what we are prepared to give up – be it bodily, emotionally, or ethically. In the closing stages of our examination, we’re confronted with a question: Are we leaving Omelas in disgust, rising up in rebellion, or merely turning a blind eye?
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2024-09-21 19:15