In 1682, the Palace of Versailles became the seat of power in France, where King Louis XIV remained blissfully safe from the riots of his starving subjects. Louis built this chateau with exactly this purpose in mind, alongside the convenient bonus of distracting the nobles with gardens, art, gossip, and wine — leaving Louis free to rule without obstruction.

When I visited Versailles myself, I was struck by its gross opulence. Entire rooms covered in gold leaf, with furnishings of extravagant beauty and complexity. I am told that, within its painted walls, no noble would drink from the same glass twice. Each goblet would be disposed of after a single sip, or so the legend goes.

But this blissful luxury came at a cost. Not to Louis or his spoiled nobles, but to all those forced to subsist beyond the palace walls. While the royals enjoyed unspoilt goblets and unending scandals, French citizens were banned from emigrating beyond their nation’s borders. More than 100,000 protestants were stripped of their freedom, their possessions, and their lives. A shift in climate caused crop failures and famine, leaving hundreds of thousands of Frenchmen without food or income. While Louis ate croissant and drank wine, his people faced subjugation, famine, and discrimination.

Had Louis remained in Paris, such affluence in the face of such suffering would have never occurred. It was only his separation from those he exploited that allowed such egregious inequity. Even if his heart was not softened by the faces of his broken people, his walls would have been when they rose against him. But instead, he sat miles away, behind golden gates and enormous gardens, feasting while they starved.

Today, Versailles is looked upon by many as a monument to brutal authoritarianism. The thought of some few enjoying extravagant luxuries while so many suffer is truly horrifying. And yet, we condemn this inequality while sitting behind the walls of our own, modern Versailles.

Consider the smartphone. A piece of technology more powerful than the computers which took men to the moon, and small enough to fit in our pocket. Opulent beyond belief. Immoral beyond expression.

Cobalt, used in nearly every phone battery, comes primarily from mines in Central Africa. It is mined in horrible conditions by those paid barely enough to survive. Child labor is so common that, in 2012, IPS concluded that some cellular phones come at the cost of two children’s lives.

And if this isn’t disturbing enough, consider the frequency with which we replace our technology. A modern equivalent to the unspoilt goblet, the average American replaces her phone every two years. The abuse and exploitation of children is fueled by our need for the newest design, and continues even when that newest product is worse than its predecessor.

We condemn the opulence of Versailles while killing children and polluting the earth, all so we can play candy crush on the newest, fastest miniature supercomputer.

To further the comparison, those of us in the western world are so distracted by petty gossip and extravagant lifestyles that it is difficult to see beyond our palace gates. If you were unaware of the children sacrificed to the gods of Apple and Samsung, it’s likely not your fault. We are fed stories about multicolored dresses (yes, that was the New York Times), told to idolize the wealthy solely for their wealth, and get 24 hour news coverage of a misspelled tweet. Just as Louis distracted his nobles, so the elite distract us.

Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World tells the story of a dystopia forged in the flames of diversion. His people are drugged, loved, and amused into submission. They ignore the horrors of their world in favor of the luxury of their palaces, all the while billions suffer enslavement and censorship. Today, Huxley’s world reads like prophecy.

If we truly aspire to liberty and justice for all, if we truly believe that all men are created equal, then we must acknowledge the self evident truth of our own gross opulence. Our futuristic world is built on the backs of men, women, and children who suffer far beyond its walls. Like Louis’ subjects, they endure subjugation, famine, and discrimination. And if we are to offer them salvation, we must escape our own, modern Versailles.