Star Wars and Philosophy

by Kevin S. Decker

  This position, called environmental holism, maintains that the good of the whole biotic community requires recognizing the interdependence of organisms, and that the individual health and integrity of each organism depends on the health and integrity of the entire natural world.

  So while the intrinsic value of living individuals militates against their arbitrary destruction or use, the fact that intrinsic value doesn’t imply absolute value means that sometimes our ethical obligations to organisms may be trumped by other obligations. Choices can be made as to the importance of competing values. For Rolston, there’s a hierarchy of value in nature, such that some values can be overridden by others. Respecting “nature” because it has value doesn’t mean respecting “equality” among all living things. A self-conscious animal, say a Wookiee, can be said to have more value than a less conscious animal like a mynock. And yet a mynock, insofar as it has an ability to feel pleasure and pain, will have more value than a non-conscious rock.

  But while there’s hierarchy of value in Rolston’s philosophy such that more sophisticated organisms have more value, this doesn’t always mean “humans first.” As he says, “Humans count enough to have the right to flourish here on Earth, but not so much that we have the right to degrade or shut down ecosystems, not at least without a burden of proof that there is an overriding cultural gain.”63 But although human interests will lose sometimes (when it comes to deforestation, for example), what we lose is also a good thing to lose, namely, the exploitative attitude toward nature. And what we stand to gain is a more harmonious relationship with nature.64 Our obligation is to become responsible members of a human and biotic community. Rolston holds that many things need to be taken into account when making moral choices between individual animal, environmental, and human interests. For example, in our efforts to preserve the environment while pursuing human interests, special priority should be given to rare species, to species which play particularly vital roles in ecosystems, to biodiversity in the ecosystem, and to the process (rather than just the products) of nature.

  Now when it comes to the Star Wars galaxy, environmental concerns aren’t exactly the first priority. Yet there is evidence of a respect for nature and life evident in the Jedi worldview.

  “May The Force Be with You”: Lessons from the Jedi

  On the face of it, the Jedi way has much in common with a kind of mind-body dualism, whereby one must overcome his biological nature rather than become unified with it.65 After all, Yoda affirms to Luke that “luminous beings are we . . . not this crude matter.” Yoda further insists that we not judge him by his physical size and proves why in Attack of the Clones and Revenge of the Sith. After death, a Jedi’s body may disappear, and indeed Obi-Wan Kenobi becomes even more powerful after he dies and loses his physical being. This seems to suggest that the Jedi are more like “minds” who temporarily learn to work within their bodies, as one might learn to move around in a car. At the very least, this means that consciousness, the mental life of the Jedi, is more than just biological matter.

  But this isn’t the whole picture. After all, life creates the Force. “It’s an energy field created by all living things,” Obi-Wan tells Luke. The point is echoed by Yoda: “For my ally is the Force. And a powerful ally it is. Life creates it, makes it grow. Its energy surrounds us and binds us . . . You must feel the Force around you. Here, between you . . . me . . . the tree . . . the rock . . . everywhere!” This isn’t so much the “mind-over-matter” picture as one of mind and matter interacting as two parts of a whole. A Jedi padawan’s task is to become more in touch with the physical world by being more at one with the Force—a task achieved through both physical and mental training. A Jedi must learn to feel the Force, rather than just think about it. This allows him to move physical objects without touching them, influence other minds, and “see” without looking.

  There’s an important biological basis here. The Force speaks through living creatures and only to other living creatures. This may be explained by what Qui-Gon Jinn says to young Anakin Skywalker, that “midi-chlorians” are a microscopic life form residing in all living cells. We have a symbiotic relationship with them—“living together for mutual advantage.” As Qui-Gon puts it “Without the midi-chlorians life could not exist. They continually speak to us, telling us the will of the Force.” This implies that we already exist in a symbiotic relationship with these messengers of the Force, and when a young padawan learns to quiet the mind he can learn the will of the Force by feeling it through the midi-chlorians in his cells. Control of one’s mind then is also control of, and a kind of listening to, one’s body so that mind and body can be one. So when a Jedi says, “May the Force be with you,” he really means, “May you be with the Force—and may you quiet your mind to listen to it, to be aware of it.”

  Learning to listen to the Force also connects the Jedi with other living things, creating a kind of harmony with them. And in this sense, Jedi training is training in respecting nature—after all, it is a respect for the living Force. The Jedi learns to recognize symbiotic relationships of the natural world.66 Once he learns this, he grows in wisdom by understanding the entire natural world and his proper place within it.

  “Mudhole? Slimy? My Home This Is”: Jedi Living in the Natural World

  The natural world confers powers of wisdom and balance, and it’s natural environments in which Jedi feel most at home. During the “dark times” of the Empire, the surviving Jedi retreat from the city-planet Coruscant to hide among the natural caves of the Tatooine desert or the swampy marshes of Dagobah. They live with nature, rather than against it, in sparse, simple dwellings.

  And when a Jedi gets into trouble, he consistently finds an ally in the natives of some very natural environments. The “ecocommunities” of the Gungans and the Ewoks are very much at one with their environments. The Gungans are less technologically advanced than most other nearby cultures, while the Ewoks have virtually no technology. Ewoks live within the trees and their homes, clothes, and weapons are made out of simple materials directly from their environment. Right away Leia and Wicket the Ewok are natural allies against the stormtroopers. There seems to be no genuine evil found on Endor. Never mind that the Ewoks originally captured and planned to eat Han, Luke, and Chewie—it was nothing personal! In Star Wars there’s a big ethical difference between violence done out of duty or necessity (the Jedi and the Ewoks, respectively) and violence done out of anger or greed (Anakin slaughtering the Sand People in revenge and the bounty hunters, respectively).

  Strangely enough, the Jedi are fighting to establish what these “natural” communities already have—a unity and harmony with the world. For if we asked ourselves what the galaxy would look like after balance is restored to the Force, we might guess that it’s a galaxy where democracy reigns, but an intergalactic democracy that lets eco-communities like the Ewoks and the Gungans live harmoniously and maintain their distinct identities as “peoples.” In other words, it would be a galaxy where harmony and diversity are supreme, which are the very ideals of environmental ethics.

  Only biological creatures are in touch with the Force in this way. Here we learn of a key distinction between “artifacts” and “organisms” in Star Wars. And Rolston makes this same point, first made by Aristotle: A machine doesn’t have its own natural goal, but instead receives its purpose from humans.67 A machine has no self-generating or self-defending tendencies. In our world, as of yet, only biological creatures have this. Robots can’t reprogram themselves the way that even earthworms or algae can in order to adapt creatively to a change in the environment.

  And time and again we see that for all the threat and intimidation of the technologically advanced stormtroopers, battle droids, AT-AT walkers, and the Death Star, ultimately they can’t outdo biological creatures working in harmony. When battle droids collide with the Gungans, and stormtroopers with the Ewoks, the biological creatures always have the surprising advantage: They work with nature to defend nature, and natu
re is one with the Force. By doing this, they can respond to new and challenging environments. Jedi know this and while they use technology, it’s always in the service of the Force of nature. So, while the Dark Side moves closer and closer to overcoming the natural world, it fails in the end. When push comes to shove, the natural processes in the biological world can always overcome human creations of technology, even if it’s the “ultimate power in the universe”—the Death Star. As Darth Vader admonishes one Imperial officer: “Don’t be too proud at this technological terror you’ve constructed. The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of the Force.”68

  Culture versus Nature

  Environmental philosophers differ when it comes to whether human culture is part of the natural world or is significantly distinct because it’s a product of deliberate behavior and not the spontaneous processes of nature. This is also left unclear in Star Wars. On the one hand, the Jedi are cosmopolitan. They find the city-planet Coruscant comfortable enough to base their Temple where they reside, meet, and educate young Jedi. On the other hand, many cities in Star Wars are full of corruption and decay. Obi-Wan warns Luke as they enter the urban world of Mos Eisely, “You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.” The upside of cities is that they allow different people to meet, live, and come together for intergalactic deliberations. The downside is that they offer anonymity which shelters and disguises dark characters, like shape-shifting bounty hunters and Dark Lords of the Sith. Consequently, in cities, people try to mind their own business—no one is bothered in the slightest by Han killing Greedo in the Mos Eisley cantina. And as Qui-Gon says of Mos Espa, “Spaceports like this one are havens for those who don’t wish to be found.”

  Of course, for all the dangers of living in one of the major cities, the dangers of not living in them can be just as great—if not greater. The humanist values of the Republic, manifest in its anti-slavery laws, are simply ignored on Tatooine. The remote world, apart from civilization, can become its own breeding ground for evil. To reconcile the values in the natural world with the humanist values of the Republic, we might look to Obi-Wan’s explanation to Boss Nass, the ruler of the Gungans. In order to convince him that he should be concerned for the Naboo during their time of crisis, Obi-Wan reminds him that the Gungans have a symbiotic relationship with the Naboo: “What happens to one affects the other, you must realize this.” Later this natural alliance between the two peoples proves vital for saving both from the Trade Federation. Indeed, the Force’s fundamentally symbiotic relations exist not only at the microscopic level of the midi-chlorians, but among different cultures and forms of beings. As Padmé is quite aware, once this point is conceded, an even stronger organic relation is possible—one capable of fighting an entire droid army.

  For an environmental philosopher like Rolston, natural communities are held together by causal relations, whereas human communities are held together by additional meaningful relations. 69 Perhaps Obi-Wan’s description of the relationship between the Gungans and the Naboo is only a metaphor, since there’s a similar split between the natural world and the cultural world of the democratic Republic. After all, when traveling through the planet core on Naboo, Qui-Gon doesn’t make such a big deal when his little sea craft nearly gets eaten by a fish, which in turn gets eaten. “There’s always a bigger fish,” he says calmly. Yet, he wouldn’t so casually describe the Trade Federation’s pressure on the Naboo in this way. Despite his respect for the natural world, he sees that it’s governed by very different principles. By contrast, human-like relationships should be governed by democratic principles, which the Jedi regularly defend.

  Restoring Balance to the Force

  Rolston reminds us that even in a humanist ethic there’s still a sense that individual welfare is inseparable from the good of the whole, “recognizing on a moral level in human affairs the symbiosis in biology.”70 But ultimately, the goal in environmental ethics is to balance the goods of human culture and the goods of the natural world. Achieving balance for humans is actually restoring balance, since it’s out of an intricately balanced natural world that we have evolved. Although distinct human communities and natural communities have developed, they’re not so different that they can’t live in harmony. Restoring balance to the Force, for the Jedi, must mean restoring balance within the entire living community—including cultural and natural worlds. Whether there exists a real or only a metaphorical symbiotic relationship between human communities may be left somewhat unclear in Star Wars. But in either case, restoring the natural symbiotic-like relationship is what the Jedi consistently work toward. It’s evident in all they do: deliberations among the Jedi and between other peoples, diplomatic missions, and sometimes “aggressive negotiations . . . negotiations with a lightsaber.” The Jedi see themselves as part of a greater whole with other living things. When Anakin begins to see himself as more important than the whole, he begins his break with the Jedi way. Conversely, the redemption of both Han Solo and Lando Calrissian comes about when they each begin to see their role in the larger cause of the Rebellion.

  The Jedi worldview brings us toward an ethic which includes all living things. But unlike environmental ethics, here the interconnections are not just within ecosystems, but to the one living system of the Force. Ultimately, all living things are unified by the living Force, regardless of place. But an important general view of Jedi philosophy is shared with an environmental ethic, namely, that we should extend our ethical worldview to include all living things. The point of environmental ethics is just this idea of inclusion. Such a view reminds conscious beings of their dependence on the natural world and of the interdependence of all living things. Each individual, as precious as he is, is part of a greater whole. And as it happens, the reward is internal too. For if we’re all part of the living Force, then restoring its balance is also restoring the balance within each of us.71

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  Send In the Clones: The Ethics of Future Wars

  RICHARD HANLEY

  Clones can think creatively. You’ll find they are immensely superior to droids . . . They are totally obedient, taking any order, without question. We modified their genetic structure to make them less independent than the original host.”

  —LAMA SU, Prime Minister of Kamino

  It’s called Star Wars, and warfare is definitely a very bad thing, with loss of life, injury, and myriad other kinds of suffering. The toughest kind of ethical question is: When is it okay to do very bad things? When you’re the good guys? Maybe that’s true, but it’s rather unhelpful. When God is on your side? Again, maybe true, but unhelpful. And anyway, isn’t the Force with the bad guys as well, in a big way?

  Two critical questions arise for the moral justification of warfare: when is it okay to engage in warfare, and how should you conduct yourself in warfare? It also matters, of course, how you conduct yourself after warfare. But overlooked in the standard approaches to the ethics of warfare is the question of how to recruit and treat your own combatants.

  In Attack of the Clones, the Republic faces the prospect of war within its own ranks, as a separatist movement led by Count Dooku assembles a massive droid army. Supreme Chancellor Palpatine engineers a vote to counter the threat with an army of clones which happens to be ready and waiting on Kamino. A battle ensues, and Yoda grimly notes, “Begun, the Clone War has.”

  This story raises another important contemporary moral issue besides warfare: cloning. Can it be permissible to produce clones of whole organisms? (That’s what I’ll mean by “cloning” in what follows.) What if the organism is a person, like Jango Fett? Can it be permissible to manipulate the process to engineer clones’ characteristics, the way the clone army is engineered on Kamino? And in warfare, can it be permissible to use a clone army, rather than typical human beings? In what follows, I’ll answer, “Yes” to all the above.

  Cloning Gets a Bum Rap

  The defender of warfare takes for granted that something can be inh
erently bad and permissible. It’s also true that something can be wrong and not inherently bad. Public opposition to cloning is visceral, but I’ll argue that much of it is misplaced. I don’t think cloning is inherently bad. It can be wrong, but we have to answer ethical questions about the wrongness of actions that are not inherently bad by using a cost-benefit analysis. Cloning might be dangerous (like not letting a Wookiee win), or consume valuable resources needed elsewhere (like pod racing), or expensive (like renting the Millennium Falcon), or unreliable (like Han Solo’s word), or liable to corruption and abuse (like the Force). It might have little application to human social and medical problems. It might in practice require the wholesale loss of valuable human lives (as those who object to the destruction of human embryos might claim). But if cloning is not inherently bad, and harms no one (or does relatively little harm), it’s not wrong. Moreover, the burden of proof would be on the opponent of cloning—in the absence of clear evidence that the harms outweigh the benefits, we ought to permit things that are not inherently bad.

  So why think cloning is not inherently bad? Because there’s no good reason to think it is. First, set aside the “yuck” factor. That the idea of something is disgusting or creepy—giving Jabba the Hutt a sponge bath, say—has no tendency to show that it is inherently bad. Second, set aside the popular rhetoric. People are apt to use impressive language in condemning cloning—claiming that it’s contrary to human dignity, for instance—but what’s really needed is cogent argument that it’s inherently so.