Breaking Every Paradigm - Curating Life, Love & The Wonder of Being

The End of Dystopia

When I was fifteen our English teacher gave out a writing assignment after having fielded a heated class debate on the probability of man ever being able to create a utopian world. This was one of the most emotive classroom debates I had ever witnessed, in fact students were still arguing amongst themselves as they exited the classroom. I didn't have much to say during the class, I was content to listen and observe but what I gained from that observation has stayed with me to this day, although I was not able to tease apart the deepest nuances of what was truly happening until much later.

That evening, being a studious and diligent student - living before the days of the Internet, with only my mind and old print library books to guide my thoughts - I began to handwrite my assignment. I knew what I wanted the world to be like, so I created that one. It began very well, and after two pages I felt as though I had mastered the question admirably. As I proceeded into the finer details, I hit the wall, the one I suspected our teacher in his wisdom knew all of us (in our youthful arrogance) would eventually discover.

I sat back in dismay, staring at the pages covered with my careful, well-thought out words, the handwriting neat and legible. I looked at the clock, two hours lost. I still had to complete my assignment, only this time I had no idea what to say. As I sat and puzzled through different paths, I realised that a utopian world was utterly impossible, at least within the world I knew - there would always be someone who would be given a raw deal and their discontent would therefore nullify the possibility of a utopian society being able to exist. In frustration I pushed away from my desk and saw another hour had passed and still I had nothing that could be said in favor of the probability of man being able to create a utopian society.

I realised I had to complete the assignment stating I had tried to create a society which could work, even ones I personally would not like only to find every one of them wanting. I grimly completed the homework. There could be no utopian society. Not for man, it was just not possible. I went to bed late that night and woke up the next morning troubled. It had to be wrong, if we could create the concept of a utopian world, then it followed somehow there could be one. But how?

I was only fifteen, I did not know how to approach that question, at least not within the limited framework of the technological times I lived in. I decided to put the question on hold, to puzzle over another day. I promised myself I would never forget this experience and one day I would find a way to see a utopian world being possible. I promised myself never to give up searching for the answer.

Later that day back in our English class, we duly handed in our assignments, everyone chattering excitedly about what they had written. Each had created a world of their liking, and one by one the arguments commenced again as each defended their world as the best one to each other. I felt ashamed as I handed my work in, I had obviously failed, no one else seemed distressed. Perhaps I had misunderstood the assignment, or perhaps I just thought too much. Nevertheless there was no time to change anything. What was done was done.

A week later, my English teacher stopped me in the hallway in between classes.

'I would like a word please,' he said.

I followed him back to the empty classroom, and watched with trepidation as he went to his desk and picked out my assignment from the papers piled there. I felt my heart drop to my toes, dread consuming me. I knew he was going to say something awful about what I had written. I hated to disappoint him, I admired him and longed for his hard-won approval. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but he already had one hand in the air, palm forward to stop me. I closed my mouth.

'There is no such thing as a utopian society, and with the way we are, there likely never will be.' He handed me my assignment, marked with a good grade. 'I enjoyed what you wrote. I expect you to go into journalism at the very least. Do not disappoint me.' He glanced at the clock. 'You are late for your next class.'