Star Wars and Philosophy

by Kevin S. Decker

  Yet there doesn’t seem anything inherently bad about having a clone or being a clone. Unless you have very strange ideas about identity, having a clone is no threat to your numerical uniqueness. Boba Fett is genetically identical to Jango Fett, but that makes him a cross between a son and a very late identical twin.

  Sometimes people claim that it’s a bad thing to have another individual around that is too much like them. But this is hard to take seriously. We do not regard the lives of genetically identical twins as significantly inferior to those of fraternal twins, or non-twins. When Luke discovers he has a long-lost twin, is it a happy occasion if Leia is fraternal, and not if (as can happen, but very rarely), she is a differently gendered identical? Even outside of family, we actively seek out those who have a lot in common with ourselves, and we think that the more commonality, the better. Maybe we don’t want another person to be exactly like us, but there’s no danger of that from cloning, given the enormous contribution of nurture in shaping our characteristics.

  Looking at it from the other side, from the clone’s point of view, if all else is equal, what difference does it make that you’re a clone? (Sadly, I doubt that all else would ever be equal. But if we treat clones as less deserving of respect than the rest of us, that is our own moral failing, not theirs).

  Finally, there’s a general worry about the employment of artificial or “unnatural” reproductive procedures. If you still think there’s something inherently bad about cloning, compare it with ordinary human reproduction (OHR), and with reproduction by in vitro fertilization (IVF). I submit that if OHR is not inherently bad, then neither is IVF. (Remember, I’m not thereby claiming that either is always permissible—if it helps, imagine an IVF case where no embryo is lost or discarded.) The point is that we can imagine cases of cloning that parallel a typical IVF case in all the messy details. If the only difference is that we use one hundred percent of one person’s genetic material to produce the embryo, instead of fifty percent each of two persons, then surely the cloning is not inherently wrong if the IVF isn’t.

  Curiously, for a good deal of our recent history it was believed that in OHR, all the essential character of the embryo came exclusively from the man, and that the woman was little more than an incubator. Cloning might be viewed as the equal opportunity realization of this!

  Assuming I’m right, then cloning has gotten a bum rap. And if cloning is permissibly used to solve social problems, the case for cloning is bolstered (even if it has other costs). So it’s good news for cloning if we discover that clone warfare is possible and acceptable. And it’s not necessarily bad news for cloning if clone warfare is not a benefit of the process, as long as it’s not a significant harm.

  Getting into Your Genes

  The possibility of a clone army scares a lot of people. Perhaps it’s because they think that clones will be more easily manipulated: to control one is to control them all. This danger looms most clearly in the case of genetically determined traits. In a blooper that somehow survived the editing process, an Imperial stormtrooper bumps his head in A New Hope. According to George Lucas, this incident receives a genetic explanation when we see Jango Fett similarly bump his head entering his ship on Kamino, and realize that the trooper is his cloned descendant. Jango Fett is not generally a klutz, of course, otherwise it would make little sense to clone him for an army.

  But “nature” isn’t the end of the story: clones of the same host can still vary greatly in their characteristics. If an army consists of genetic duplicates of the original—an army of Bobas, say—then their similarities will ultimately depend on “nurture,” on environmental factors such as diet and education. Raise and socialize them all the same way, and they’ll presumably be very similar. But that has little if anything to do with cloning. Surely the same thing can be achieved with non-clones, with about the same rate of success. Clones can be bent to an iron will, but so can we. And it doesn’t follow that the army will be superior by being raised in a uniform environment. Perhaps it’s better to use a variety of environments, and see which produces the best soldiers—a survival of the Fettest!

  Indeed, part of the point of the clone army is that it’s superior to the droid army because the clones are more flexible, more “creative.” It’s the droids that are supposed to lack autonomy—the capacity to direct their own lives—so there’s no need to bend them at all. And they can all be stood down in an instant, as happened when Anakin destroyed the Droid Control Ship in The Phantom Menace.

  The other clones are not like Boba, however. They are genetically manipulated to reduce their autonomy, to make them a bit more like droids than you and I are. Genetic manipulation scares people, too, with or without cloning. But genetic manipulation does not seem inherently bad, either. It’s playing God, but so what? Genetic manipulation doesn’t necessarily harm anyone, as we can see from the following example. Suppose that in the story, Luke Skywalker’s parents, other things being equal, would have conceived a genetically deficient child, because of an abnormality in the egg. (Leia can be safely ignored, since she almost certainly came from a different egg, but if it helps, feel free to suppose there never was a twin). The genetic deficiency is this: the child that would have been born in the absence of treatment would have been missing an arm (a fate that befalls Luke anyway, but from environmental causes). However, the genetic deficiency is corrected prior to conception.

  There are two ways of describing the outcome. First, we might say that one and the same child, Luke, benefits from the procedure by having two arms rather than one, so the treatment is not inherently bad. (I assume that having both arms is a lot better than having just one.) But if we intuitively tie identity to genetics, and given that the genetic difference is significant, a better description is that the two-armed Luke is not the same child as the one-armed would have been. You cannot harm a non-existent child, and the existing one—Luke—is certainly not harmed by the treatment, so the genetic manipulation is not inherently bad.

  Now consider the opposite sort of treatment. It clearly harms a normal child to surgically remove its arm, presumably even in the world of Star Wars with its impressive prosthetics. But suppose the “treatment” had been to alter the genetics of the egg prior to conception, resulting in an armless child, when otherwise a normal child—Luke—would have resulted. Given that genetics is essential to identity, as long as the armless child’s life is on balance worth living, it cannot be said that that child has been harmed by the procedure, since without the procedure it wouldn’t have existed at all. This is not to claim that it isn’t wrong. But if the procedure is wrong, it’s not because some child is a victim of it. Such cases can be puzzling, and it’s not clear exactly what form the cost-benefit analysis ought to take, but the fact that they involve genetic manipulation settles nothing.

  Note the application of this line of reasoning to the production of the clone army. Grant me for the sake of the argument that more autonomy is a lot better than less. Then if the genetic manipulation occurs early enough, it will be reasonable to maintain that no clone is harmed by the process—not the diminished one, and not the “normal” one that would have resulted in the absence of manipulation—as long as the diminished clone’s life is on balance worthwhile.

  I’m inclined to grant that such a life can be worthwhile. First, there are human beings with diminished autonomy who still have happy lives. And second, any worries about the life of a clone soldier being not worth living have more to do with their being soldiers than with their being clones. If it’s bad to bring cloned soldiers into existence because they will have miserable lives, they arguably are victims whether or not there is genetic manipulation. And if it does not harm the clones, it still may be wrong on other grounds, but the fact that the procedure involves genetic manipulation settles nothing.

  Different Strokes for Different Folks

  There’s an alternative to genetic manipulation that has nothing especially to do with cloning: environmental engineering of t
he clones as they develop. “Hot-housed,” the Fett clones develop at a faster rate biologically, and are indoctrinated with intensive military training. Is such environmental manipulation inherently bad? It clearly can have victims, but also can have beneficiaries, since in many cases environmental engineering (education, for instance) improves the lives of those educated.

  Two possible features of environmental manipulation are of particular moral concern: deception and coercion, bending another person’s will to your own ends by threats. Some popular ethical theories hold that deception and coercion are inherently bad, and so manipulation involving one or both is inherently bad. According to the philosopher Immanuel Kant, for instance, deception and coercion are wrong because it is always wrong to treat another person merely as a means to your ends.

  Take brainwashing. This is likely involves both deception and coercion, and so is a candidate for inherently bad environmental manipulation. One of the objectionable things about some forms of terrorism is that suicidal terrorists seem to have been brainwashed into unreasonable actions. But even here, we should not jump to the conclusion that manipulating a person’s will by coercion or deception is always wrong. When Obi-Wan uses his Jedi powers on the “death-stick” dealer in a Coruscant sports bar, that individual changes his desires drastically. He repeats mechanically, “I don’t want to sell you death-sticks . . . I want to go home and rethink my life,” and leaves. The implication is that Obi-Wan has done him a big favor.

  So when is it okay to manipulate someone’s will? One reasonable answer is: when that person already has diminished autonomy. In the attempt to protect children, for instance, we often cultivate attitudes in a manner analogous to brainwashing (we also may deceive them in the process). Perhaps this applies to the death-stick dealer, perhaps not. He is apparently young, and has made some bad choices, and so may warrant protection from himself. Another reasonable answer is: environmental manipulation of another’s will is okay when it is necessary to protect others from the person to be manipulated. This is the thinking behind ordering someone into therapy as part of their sentence for criminal behavior, and certainly could apply to the death-stick dealer.72

  The manipulation of a person’s will, genetically or environmentally, is not the only way to get them to do what you want. Another way is to use the desires they already have, by making them an offer “too bad to refuse”—this is a clear case of coercion. When Lando Calrissian betrays Han Solo and his companions, he admits that he does it under threat from Darth Vader. Extraction of information under threat of torture—as Vader does to Han shortly thereafter—is another example. Such coercion seems to be always wrong.

  Yet another way to get someone to do what you want is to use the desires they already have, by giving them an offer too good to refuse—call this inducement. It seems we are more comfortable morally with inducement than with brainwashing. Indeed, I think that our intuitions tend to go in opposite directions in the two cases: we find inducement more morally problematic the less autonomous the induced individual is. The rather childlike Jar-Jar Binks is induced into supporting Chancellor Palpatine’s grab for power by his overweening desire to play an important role in the Senate.

  This leaves us with an interesting question. Given that there’s nothing inherently bad about producing the clones in the first place, even with genetic manipulation, might the clones be victims of brainwashing or inducement? And if so, are they any worse off than other combatants in warfare? Are they perhaps better off? Can such treatment be justified, in virtue of its role in warfare? To answer, we need to examine the ethics of warfare in general.

  War: What Is It Good For?

  Warfare involves death, injury, and myriad other kinds of suffering. The battles spectacularly depicted in Star Wars are entirely typical in this regard. Warfare is inherently bad. But this doesn’t mean warfare is always wrong. Sometimes it’s permissible to do inherently bad things, such as killing a human being in genuine self-defense.

  It is sometimes claimed that morality doesn’t apply in warfare, a view with the strange name of “realism.” If true, realism would of course have the consequence that in warfare you can do no wrong, no matter how much harm you do, or to whom. In this respect, “realism” is hopelessly unrealistic.

  Equally implausible is absolute pacificism: the view that all violence, and especially killing, is wrong. We are shocked that Obi-Wan allows Vader to kill him. We do seem to allow that a person may lay down their own life for a noble cause, if they so choose. Notice, however, that if absolute pacificism is correct, then you are obligated to let an evil attacker kill you, and moreover to let them kill anyone else. It is hard to reconcile this judgment with the claim that lives are of equal value. If your life is as valuable as your attacker’s, then it’s permissible to choose yours over theirs by killing in self-defense.

  It will come as no surprise, then, that the standard approach to the ethics of warfare is in fact modeled on permissible violence between individuals. In order for violence against another to count as genuine self-defense, it must satisfy the following conditions: reasonable belief—it must be reasonable for you to believe you are under significant threat, and that must be the reason you use violence; last resort—if you could simply run away from your attacker, and not put anyone else in danger, you ought to run away rather than kill them; and reasonable force—the response must be proportional to the threat, and not significantly threaten others in turn. This also applies to the use of violence to protect others.

  There are circumstances in which it is permissible to engage in violence to protect your nation or others. The traditional account of these circumstances is called “Just War theory.” There must be: just cause—a credible threat; right intention—the reason for fighting is to respond to the threat, with the ultimate aim of a just peace; competent authority—the decision to fight is made by true representatives of the nation or group; last resort—peaceful means have been exhausted; reasonable prospect of success—it is credible that a just peace will result. In addition, a nation or group engaged in warfare must satisfy the conditions of discrimination—only combatants are to be targeted, and proportionality—the force used must be proportionate to the threat faced.

  These conditions are not easily satisfied, and all must be satisfied for warfare to be permissible. Only the very best of reasons will do. By analogy, consider Anakin’s wholesale slaughter of the Sand People. He certainly had something like just cause, since they were responsible for the undeserved suffering and death of his mother. But he acted out of anger and a desire for revenge, and so failed to satisfy the condition of right intention. His response was out of proportion to any threat they presented to him. It certainly wasn’t a last resort, and he failed to discriminate by killing the women and children. It is also highly problematic that he acted unilaterally, in vigilante fashion.

  To Be All You Can Be, or Not?—That Is the Question

  Whatever its success, Just War theory has had very little to say about the recruitment, training, and deployment of one’s own troops. The same is true of international agreements governing warfare, such as the Geneva Convention.

  Take recruitment. Plato apparently thought that homosexual men make better soldiers, at least in couples, dubiously claiming each will fight more ardently to prove himself a worthy lover. Historically, financial reward has probably delivered more recruits than the promise of glory: mercenaries like Jango Fett have formed a substantial complement of most armies (an interesting feature of the Iraq campaign is the relatively high—by modern standards—number of mercenaries employed by the United States). Financial rewards can be less direct, too. Free college tuition is a tempting reason to join the military, as is the prospect of gainful employment.

  Recruitment practices can be morally problematic in a variety of ways. They might be unfairly exclusionary (for instance, the U.S. military’s attitude to homosexuals is rather different from Plato’s). The institution of a draft might violate autonomy, f
orcing individuals to fight against their will. Even volunteer armies are constituted to a disproportionately large extent by underprivileged social groups, especially when it comes to fighting, raising concerns of social justice—the poor used as cannon fodder by the wealthy, to put it polemically. Or a volunteer army might attract mostly thugs, who will use membership in the military as a pretext to commit moral violations.

  Next, consider training of a specifically military sort: to fight and kill. How do you get people to fight at all? The prevailing strategy is to condition military personnel, so that they will respond appropriately to situations and orders without having to think about them. They need to be physically fit, and the physical training is employed in a disciplinary fashion, to discourage individuality and develop a team mentality. To appropriately react to situations, it’s desirable to have ingrained responses—to make them a part of “muscle memory”—so that trained individuals will just execute as desired, when required. The “education and combat training” programs on Kamino that Lama Su is so proud of seem to accomplish this very efficiently.

  Take the case of Anakin Skywalker. His Jedi training came relatively late. We see other Jedi being inducted into Jedi ways as small children by Yoda, away from the influence of their families and others, rather like being raised in a monastery. The clear implication is that part of Anakin’s problem is that he was not sufficiently inculcated—not brainwashed enough—to cope fully with his ability to use the Force, and the responsibility that goes with it. Presumably, it would have been better either that he had undergone the full training, or else not have been trained at all.

  Typical military training can be morally problematic. The more autonomy soldiers have to begin with, the more problematic it is to employ brainwashing techniques to get them to do what we want—to fight, kill and die for the rest of us.