A group of kids gathered in a playground after school every day to play and wrestle and do kid stuff.

The two strongest kids were bitter rivals. They fought almost every day.

One day the slightly stronger of the two kids had an epiphany.

He was tired of wasting his strength fighting his rival. It was not only pointless and destructive; it was immoral.

From now on he would use his strength responsibly — against strength itself. He would impose a regime of justice in the playground, where nobody could be stronger than any other.

So the strongest kid announced to the weaker kids that he would no longer be the strongest kid. From now on he would give his strength away. Whenever the weaker kids found themselves in a power disparity, his strength would be theirs. He would jump in and help the weaker kid prevail over the stronger one.

The former strongest kid, having renounced strength, would now be known as the justest kid.

The weaker kids loved this idea, and immediately rose up against the second-strongest kid. With the help of the justest kid, they beat his ass, and brought him down to their level.

And whenever the second-strongest kid — or whichever of the kids who became a little more powerful than the others — tried to attack the justest kid, they all viewed this as what it truly was: an attack on justice itself.

Indeed, wherever things became even slightly unequal or hinted at injustice, the justest kid stepped in and gave away his strength, and with the enthusiastic cooperation of the other kids, quickly reestablished perfect equality and justice.

And the justest kid’s plan worked.

Everywhere he looked, he saw only justice and equality.

And the kids discovered that they too loved equality and justice, and preferred it greatly over the brutal and abusive struggle for power that formerly dominated their playground.