One of my most important values is justice. We want to believe the world is fair – it makes things feel safer that way. But what if it isn’t?
Three minutes of truth: “The world is not fair – thank God.” She’s my friend, and she says this to me. It sounds like a cynical relief, a sigh of realism disguised as wisdom. And yet, the sentence sticks with me – clings to my consciousness like something I should reject, but can’t quite ignore.
One of my most important values is justice. Not because I believe the world is fair – but precisely because I know it isn’t.
It matters to me that resources and opportunities are distributed fairly. Equal pay, equal dignity, equal rights.
I believe that many people – not just me – have a deep need to believe the world is fair. Because justice provides a sense of safety. If we believe that “you get what you deserve,” then there’s some order in the chaos. It becomes a kind of defense mechanism: If I just behave well, work hard, take care of myself – then good things will come to me.
But this is exactly where my friend disagrees. She doesn’t believe in that story.
I don’t see it as a naive dream that everything should balance out, or that everyone gets what they deserve. For me, it’s a moral will – a choice to face inequality and injustice head-on, instead of looking away. It’s a belief that people are responsible for each other, especially when systems fail.
To hold on to justice as a value is a kind of resistance. Against cynicism. Against resignation. Against the idea that “this is just the way things are.” It’s a quiet but stubborn voice saying: This isn’t good enough. We can – and must – do better.
Justice doesn’t mean everything should be the same. It means we try to give people equal chances. That we see people’s worth, not just their usefulness. That we protect the vulnerable, not just admire the strong. That we understand goodness doesn’t happen on its own – and evil can’t always be explained away.
But what would it actually mean if the world were fair? Would everyone truly get what they deserve – for better or worse?
Would it be the weakest, the most fragile, the most exposed who would pay the price for their vulnerability?
Would suffering be seen as proof of guilt – and privilege as a sign of virtue? If someone is in pain, does that mean they must have done something wrong?
It’s a disturbing thought. Because in a truly fair universe, we might no longer excuse ourselves when we see suffering – we’d feel compelled to explain it. And worse: we might start to believe that it’s deserved.
In some societies and cultures, poverty, illness, or social failure is seen as a sign of personal weakness. If someone doesn’t succeed, people think: They must have brought it on themselves.
It becomes a kind of moral branding: Your situation reveals your worth. It’s rarely conscious cruelty – more of a social reflex that can lead to indifference and stigma.
Certain interpretations of karma give the impression that everything happens because of past actions – maybe even in a previous life.
In that mindset, even suffering in childhood can be explained as “deserved” in some larger cosmic accounting. It can be a way to make sense of senselessness – but also an excuse not to intervene.
The belief in a just world can be comforting – but it can also lead us to judge others unfairly.
So perhaps it’s precisely injustice that opens the door to compassion?
Is it because the world is not fair that we have the opportunity to choose what is good, to reach out, to do the right thing – precisely because it doesn’t happen by itself?
Injustice doesn’t become an excuse. It becomes a call.
No child deserves to grow up in violence, hunger, or loneliness. No human tragedy can reasonably be dismissed as “something you brought upon yourself.”
So maybe my friend is right. Maybe it’s important that we don’t fool ourselves into believing the world is fair. Because doesn’t that give us a responsibility – to make it more just?
I do like the idea of the universe taking care of balance. That everything somehow works out fairly. That there’s a kind of accounting where good people are rewarded, and bad people punished.
But the world doesn’t really work that way. Karma or fate – call it what you will – often shows us that good people suffer deeply, while those who act selfishly get off easy.
Perhaps it’s because we tend to think of justice within the span of a single life.
And that’s why we can’t rely on the universe to make things fair – at least not in this life. That responsibility lies with us – in our choices and our actions.
Justice isn’t about cosmic balance. It’s about how we choose to treat one another – and where we place our responsibility.
And in that sense, the sentence may not be cynical at all – but realistic.
Maybe it’s because the world isn’t fair that we need to be.
Anita Cramer Corpas er erfaren journalist og kommunikationsrådgiver.
Speciale: Journalistik i almindelighed, landbrug, nyheder, succeshistorier, kommunikation og mediekontakt.