The Veil of Ignorance
by Russell Hasan
DECIDE, God
said to us. CHOOSE YOUR STYLE OF CIVILIZATION. I WILL RESHAPE THE WORLD BASED
UPON YOUR CHOICE. KNOW THAT EACH OF YOU WILL BE BORN INTO ONE OF THESE SEVEN LIVES; WHICH ONE, I WILL NOT SAY…
We seven souls
stared down into a vast chasm of star-scarred space-time, looking far off into
the distance at a small blue-green planet orbiting a raging fireball; we were
standing in a circle, our feet sunk ankle-deep into the mists of eternity.
Highlighted for us to see with special clarity were seven of the fetuses taking
shape within wombs of females of the ape-like dominant species on this planet,
the seven bodies that we souls were going to be placed into by God: one, the
daughter of a drunken wife-beating mechanic; another the son of a Senator and a
wealthy heiress; yet another a son gestating within a teenage crack-addicted
prostitute; still another, the yet-to-be-born child of a lower-middle-class
used car salesman and his violin-playing wife. Four of the lives were white,
two dark-skinned and one mixed; three were boys and four were girls. Some were
looked upon as joyous blessings by their parents as their bodies grew within
the womb, others were viewed with frustration and anger, still others were a
source of mixed hope and fear.
This
decision of how to structure our society is perhaps the most important decision
that we will ever make. I knew roughly what I wanted the world to look like,
but I hoped that the other souls would agree so that we could reach a consensus….
“I think
that it is only fair,” one of the other souls said, “once we are all born into
our lives down below, for us to pool our assets and wealth and divide it up
evenly among us… just as everyone should form a collective and pool everything
among everyone on that planet. Let us destroy property. Since none of us knows
which of the lives we will be born into, this would take some wealth away from
those of us lucky enough to be born into the rich families… but some of us will
be born into want and poverty, and this way we will all have a guarantee, right
now, prior to the accidents of birth, of a fair share of money to live off of,
so that we will no longer need to be afraid of an unfortunate birth. That way
we can proceed into our new lives with confidence and vigor, rather than
panicking about the possibility of the curse of bad luck.”
“But how
can we truly be free if there is no property?” I asked. His vision was the
precise opposite of the society that I intended to advocate for. “I will do the
work that I do, and it will produce wealth, and that wealth will be mine, if
there is ownership. I want the freedom to choose to be successful. If there is
no property, if everything is shared, then what is to stop you all from taking
the money that I make, and giving me nothing for it in return? That doesn’t
seem right. That doesn’t seem fair.”
The other souls all looked at me,
some with shock and others with placid annoyance; a few of the other souls
nodded their heads in agreement with me. I was the youngest among the souls,
baked in God’s oven a mere sixteen trillion years ago. The soul who had spoken
first, a very, very, very old soul, gave me a stern gaze, as if to say that I
would be forgiven for my foolishness but only if I learned his wisdom quickly.
“Your
success will only be the result of the luck and circumstances that you were
born into,” the old soul said. “Therefore there is no such thing as a right to
the money that you make. You have no right to it, it was a gift that was given
to you… and we are entitled to our fair share of your profits.”
“A gift?” I
asked incredulously. “But I have looked at this blue world of oceans and
clouds, and the ape-things do work in
order to build their towers of stone and glass and to slaughter their meat,
they do work to build the mighty metal ships that sail them across the sky. It
seems that I will be expected to work, and if I am assiduous and industrious
then I will deserve to own the gold coins that people will pay me for my
cleverness. Surely I am correct?”
The older soul laughed at my words,
and a few of the other souls arced their lips up in smiles of sympathetic
humor. “No, surely you are wrong. You cannot possibly know that you will be
able to succeed. After all, you might be born into poverty or illness or be
born into a stupid body. If you are prosperous then it will be because you
inherited your wealth, or, if not, because you were born into a body with
strong muscles or a smart brain, because you had good DNA,
or because you were lucky enough to have loving, nurturing parents who raised
you to feel pride and self-esteem. But only a few of those seven lives are blessed; the others are
doomed to torture and misery, and you should not condemn the unlucky souls to
such agony. After all, you yourself might be born into the worst of all of the
lives, raised by a pimp and a prostitute on the mean crime-filled streets of
the ghetto, where a bullet in your head is both a constant possibility and
something to look forward to as a blissful escape from a nightmare reality. Would
you risk everything to play the game of luck and bet that you will be born into
good fortune, will you cling to your lack of wisdom, or will you embrace the
light and concede to our plan for the elimination of fear and poverty? Equality
is not something that is merely noble, it is also eminently practical as a way
for you to be safe from bad luck.”
“Luck?” I asked, and a note of indignant
anger crept into my voice. “No, not luck! I know that I will succeed or die
trying, and I am not going to let any of the pain, agony, or misfortune down on
that beautiful, miraculous blue world prevent me from accomplishing my destiny.
I will choose to be a success… and I
will not yield to you who would steal that accomplishment away from me. You are
thieves and I will not obey you!”
“Young fool, you’ll ruin everything
for me!” the older soul snarled. “For us, I mean! For us!”
“This isn’t about safety from fear,
is it?” I said, as horror dawned on me. “You know that we will forge our own
destinies by our choices, which come from us, our souls, and not the situations
which we inherit. You just want to be lazy and let me do all the work while I
carry you on my shoulders! You know that if everything is pooled then you can
take without giving! Isn’t that right? Isn’t it?”
“No!” the old soul screamed. “Don’t
listen to him! Look into your hearts and listen to your inner voice, and listen
to your fear! Only with my plan can
your fear of failure be eliminated! Only with socialism can we all achieve true
safety! We must make the brave decision, the one that takes our weakness into
account!”
WHAT HAVE YOU DECIDED? God asked
us.
“We choose socialism—”
“No!” I interrupted. “We have not
yet reached an agreement!”
I HAVE NO PATIENCE FOR WAITING
UNTIL YOUR BICKERING ENDS. I AM SENDING ALL
OF YOU DOWN TO EARTH RIGHT NOW. YOU CAN MAKE YOUR DECISION ONCE YOU HAVE
ASSUMED THE FLESH, AND THEN FIGHT
TO SEE YOUR CHOICE REALIZED.
So I was born into a human life,
and now I must fight to make freedom a reality, and to make something of the
life that I have been given. And I stand by what I said, because, ironically,
the body that I was born into is….
