Star Wars and Philosophy

by Kevin S. Decker

  Obi-Wan’s intentions are very much the same as those of the elder in the parable. He sees Luke in danger of falling into a life in which his spiritual potential will be squandered or corrupted, or quite possibly even losing that life before it had really begun. He sees as well that Luke is blind to that danger, so he uses “expedients” to lead the young man toward a more authentic life. Plato touches on a similar idea when he relates the story of Socrates and the “Noble Lie.”160 Socrates is faced with the task of explaining to the people of his hypothetical Republic why they’ve been divided into social classes of craftspeople, guardians, and leaders. To convince them, he invents a fantastic tale of their having been formed, educated, and nurtured within the earth along with their weapons and tools, and that precious metals have been mixed into them—metals that equip each man for one specific task in life. Socrates himself acknowledges that this is a falsehood, and seems reluctant to have told it:GLAUCON: It isn’t for nothing that you were so shy about telling your falsehood.

  SOCRATES: Appropriately so.

  Nevertheless, he feels, as Obi-Wan did, that it was a lie necessary for the greater good of his students. If reality fell short of Obi-Wan’s hopes, it’s as much the fault of the impatient student as of the teacher’s lie.

  “Trust Your Feelings”

  Truth can also mean a spiritual understanding and awareness that’s not provable by cold, hard facts. In Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, Harrison Ford’s Dr. Jones draws a sharp line between the two when he tells a classful of adoring students that archeology is “the search for facts. Not truth.” He then directs any students who are after truth to a philosophy class down the hall. Obi-Wan’s “certain point of view” comment may sound like a bald-faced attempt to cover his former lie; Luke certainly seems to think so. It is, however, an important reminder not to cling too blindly to a literal, mechanistic truth.

  According to Joseph Campbell, a mythologist who influenced Lucas, one of the central conflicts in Star Wars is that of man versus machine.161 The Empire, with its bland uniforms, faceless white-armored stormtroopers, a Sith Lord who’s half-robot, and of course the “technological terror” of the Death Star, represents a loss of humanity and with it the ability to see truth from any perspective other than their own—a cold, mechanistic, power-driven perspective that sees no truth beyond bare facts.162 Machines can’t see shades of meaning and are incapable of intuitive understanding; everything is black or white, right or wrong. Furthermore, by refusing to acknowledge the viewpoints of anyone but themselves, the Empire renders outsiders less than human, mere things to be exploited and conquered.

  This is why the Sith are no better for their honesty. Not only is their version of truth a narrow, limited one, but they speak it only to serve their own purposes. Truth-telling for the Sith has nothing to do with increasing wisdom and understanding; it’s just another tool to help them gain power or hurt their opponents. Ironically, in speaking more literal, factual truths, they lose the higher spirit of truth—that integrity that comes when honesty is practiced for the sake of illuminating the human soul. The Jedi try to hold this integrity. When they fail, valuing power above honor, they fall from grace and are nearly eradicated. Yoda tells Luke, “A Jedi uses the Force for knowledge and defense, never for attack,” and the same could be said about truth. Even if the intention toward a higher truth sometimes fails (as it did in the case of Obi-Wan and even more so in the Old Republic Jedi), it still serves a different and more noble end. Vader’s truth brings Luke nothing but darkness; the same truth, from Yoda and Obi-Wan, brings understanding and compassion.

  Luke is finally the one who must sort out these layers of truth and deceit. In Return of the Jedi, he rejects both versions of who and what his father is, and constructs his own truth—one that is at once stronger and more compassionate than either Vader’s or Obi-Wan’s truth.

  The symbol of the lightsaber helps illuminate this idea. Lightsabers are one of the most striking and memorable images to come out of the Star Wars films. Obi-Wan describes them as “the weapon of a Jedi Knight,” “not as clumsy or as random as a blaster,” and “an elegant weapon for a more civilized age.” They’re futuristic high-tech swords, and the sword has long been a symbol of truth—the weapon of knights and samurai, in many cases a physical manifestation of their honor. In the Tarot, the Suite of Swords represents knowledge and the intellect, and the Ace of Swords in particular is often interpreted or even depicted outright as a blade of truth cutting through layers of deception and confusion. “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” speaks of “His terrible swift sword . . . His truth is marching on.” Like truth, a sword can be used for good or evil, to protect or harm. The only difference between a Jedi’s lightsaber and that of a Sith is the blade color.

  In A New Hope, Luke is given his father’s old blue-bladed lightsaber; he accepts it as willingly and unquestioningly as he accepts Obi-Wan’s story. In The Empire Strikes Back, Vader slices off the hand holding that blade, an action as harsh and brutal as the truth he then speaks. Instead of joining Vader and constructing a new lightsaber under his instruction, Luke chooses to build one on his own and (presumably) without instruction. Luke’s choice of a green blade (representing life and growth), rather than a red blade as the Sith all use (representing blood and death), is certainly not accidental.

  Later, Luke confronts the spirit of Obi-Wan, who finally tells him the full story behind Anakin Skywalker’s fall and transformation. Interestingly, Luke’s response (once past his initial bitterness) is to insist that there’s good left in Vader. Obi-Wan disagrees: “He’s more machine now than man. Twisted and evil.” But Luke is through with accepting the words of others unquestioningly. Obi-Wan and Vader have given him only part of the story. The rest comes from his own intuition, the “feelings” that Jedi are told to trust above everything else.

  This is the truth of the heart, a truth beyond mechanistic facts or even shades of meaning, the final step in the path Luke chose when he turned off his targeting computer on the Death Star run. Luke seeks to build his own truth, trusting what he feels above what anyone tells him, and as a symbol of this truth he builds and wields his own lightsaber. For this reason, he alone is able to move beyond words, appearances, and the dizzying kaleidoscope of individual perspectives. He not only sees the spark of Anakin Skywalker flickering within the mechanical shell of Darth Vader, but redeems him and thereby helps bring down the Empire and the Sith against all expectations. In doing so, he redeems the fallen honor of the Old Republic Jedi and restores their truth to what it should have been.

  Philosophers in this galaxy have been debating the question of what truth is from “a long time ago” to this day, and if history is any indication, they aren’t likely to agree on it anytime soon. But at least we finally have an answer to the question of the lying Jedi: they lie because truth isn’t simple, and because they know that truth told without compassion can be brutal. Claiming that truth should always be told, regardless of other ethical considerations, is like claiming that there’s nothing left of Darth Vader to be redeemed—true on only the most superficial level. Fans may not like to see their heroes as less than honor-able, but the lesson of the lying Jedi is that truth depends on perspective, on intention, on intuitive understanding, and finally on a compassion that’s willing to see the whole picture and not just a single “point of view.”

  17

  Religious Pragmatism through the Eyes of Luke Skywalker

  JOSEPH W. LONG

  In a memorable scene from A New Hope, a skeptical Han Solo tells the idealistic Luke Skywalker, “Kid, I’ve flown from one side of this galaxy to the other. I’ve seen a lot of strange stuff, but I’ve never seen anything to make me believe there’s one all-powerful Force controlling everything.” Nevertheless, Luke becomes a hero because of his faith in his friends, his father, and most importantly, the Force, a mystical energy field in which he believes but which he cannot empirically verify.

  The question of when to belie
ve something and when not to believe is very important in the Star Wars galaxy and in our own. In fact, this is one of the central questions in the crucial branch of philosophy known as epistemology, the study of the theory of knowledge. Epistemology is important to all of us because clearly some things should be believed and others not. It seems, for example, somehow right to believe in the existence of black holes and wrong to believe in the existence of unicorns.

  In this chapter, we’ll explore the important matter of “when to believe” by first looking at the skeptical position of the nineteenth-century philosopher William Clifford, and then putting this position to the test with the help of arguments from the famous pragmatist philosopher William James. A pragmatist is a person who is committed to a practical and human view of the world and of epistemology. Pragmatists like James argue that in addition to reasons that show the truth of what we believe, there are also practical reasons to believe in something. We’ll call the former reasons truth-conducive and the latter pragmatic. We’ll see that William James’s position, that a pragmatic faith belief can be a positive thing, indeed our salvation, is exemplified well by Luke Skywalker.

  “A Lot of Simple Tricks and Nonsense”

  In his 1874 article, “The Ethics of Belief,”163 William Clifford tells us that faith is “wrong always, everywhere, and for anyone.”164 It’s easy to see how one could maintain that faith, or believing upon insufficient evidence, is wrong in an epistemic sense (that it may not lead to knowing a truth); but Clifford believes it is also morally wrong. To explain why he thinks faith is immoral, Clifford tells us this story: A shipowner is about to send a ship full of immigrants to the new land. The shipowner is warned that the ship is old and weathered and not overly well built at the start, and may not make the long journey. Although he could have the ship inspected and repaired if necessary, the shipowner decides to trust in Providence. “It has made many voyages,” he reasons. “Surely, it will make this one also.” Ultimately, the ship sinks and the immigrants all perish. Now, we can see why Clifford believes faith is morally wrong. It can lead to disastrous consequences. But what if the ship had made it to the new land successfully? In that case too, says Clifford, the shipowner would be guilty, “because he had no right to believe on such evidence as was before him.”165

  When Luke turns off the targeting computer of his X-wing fighter and “uses the Force” to blow up the Death Star, he is guilty of the sin of faith. What makes holding a belief immoral is not simply a matter of whether that belief is true or false, or even whether it is fruitful or unfruitful, but rather of how it originated. The danger of faith is not only that we might have a false belief or even that we should pass on a false belief to others, although this is bad enough. Still worse, if we should be in the habit of not seeking justification for our beliefs, we may become overly credulous and thus, savage, like the barbarous Sand People of Tatooine.

  Han Solo, at least the Han that we meet at the beginning of A New Hope, seems to be a skeptic like Clifford. Although he congratulates Luke on blowing up the Death Star, we can imagine how vexed he would have been if he were privy to Luke’s unorthodox method. He believes the Force is nothing but “a lot of simple tricks and nonsense,” and “no match for a good blaster at your side.” We’ve all known people who adhere blindly to what they were taught as a child, never exposing themselves to experiences which might make them doubt. Clifford tells us that the life of such a person “is one long sin against mankind,”166 and I believe he has a good point. We’d hardly respect Luke if he had refused to enter the cave on Dagobah where he faced his doubts and the knowledge of the Dark Side within himself. But does this mean that faith is always wrong?

  “I Find Your Lack of Faith Disturbing”

  Of course, faith is not always advisable. In The Empire Strikes Back, Luke has unwarranted faith in his abilities as a Jedi and foolishly leaves his training with Yoda to try to help his friends. This faith backfires and costs him dearly, as he loses his hand in an imprudent showdown with Darth Vader. But under certain conditions, William James argues that faith can be not only morally permissible, but even salvific or hero-making. Luke Skywalker’s actions ultimately help demonstrate this. James discusses the importance of hero-making faith in “Ethical Importance of the Phenomenon of Effort”:The world thus finds in the heroic man its worthy match and mate; and the effort which he is able to put forth to hold himself erect and keep his heart unshaken is the direct measure of his worth and function in the game of human life. He can stand this Universe. He can meet it and keep up his faith in it in presence of those same features which lay his weaker brethren low. He can still find a zest in it, not by “ostrich-like forgetfulness,” but by pure inward willingness to face it with these deterrent objects there. And hereby he makes himself one of the masters and lords of life. He must be counted with henceforth; he forms a part of human destiny. Neither in the theoretic nor in the practical sphere do we care for, or go for help to, those who have no head for risks, or sense for living on the perilous edge . . . But just as our courage is so often a reflex of another’s courage, so our faith is apt to be a faith in some one else’s faith. We draw new life from the heroic example.167

  What are these conditions that must obtain for faith to be morally acceptable? First, it is acceptable to have faith only when the choice is intellectually undecidable. If a little bit of thinking could decide the issue one way or the other then we cannot simply choose to have faith. Also, the decision in question must constitute a genuine option. A genuine option is a choice which is living, forced, and momentous. A living option is one where there exist at least two real possibilities that may be chosen between. As a teen, Luke had few live career options. Perhaps he could be a moisture farmer like his Uncle Owen. Perhaps he could go off to the Imperial Academy next season after the harvest. But before meeting Obi-Wan Kenobi, being a Jedi Knight was not a real live possibility. It became a live possibility only after Obi-Wan told Luke about his father and after his aunt and uncle were killed by Imperial stormtroopers. Likewise, Han Solo’s live choices are to be a mercenary or a smuggler before his adventures with Luke and Leia. Only later could he realistically choose to be an officer of the Rebel Alliance. In addition to being live, a genuine option must be forced. A forced option is one where a decision must be made, or where choosing not to decide amounts to choosing one way or the other. Luke and Leia’s decision to swing across the retracted bridge on the Death Star in A New Hope was a forced option. Choosing not to decide would be identical to choosing death (or at least surrender.) Finally, a genuine option must be momentous. That is, it must be important and unique. Deciding to go to the grocery store to buy paper towels is not momentous. Nothing very important hinges upon the decision and the decision could be made again at any time in the future. Obi-Wan’s decision to respond to R2-D2’s message from Princess Leia, however, is momentous. A great deal hangs upon it and a decision must be made immediately for as Leia pleads, “You’re my only hope.”

  Luke’s decision to have faith in the Force seems to fit all of James’s criteria. It seems clearly intellectually undecidable. How could Luke empirically test the power of the Force? 168 One must believe in the Force in order to act through it. Thus, he could hardly have the scientific skepticism necessary to set up an appropriate experiment and still control the Force. His decision is living. Either believing or not believing is a real possibility. The choice is forced. If he chooses not to decide, then for all practical purposes, he has chosen against putting his faith in the Force. And finally, it is momentous. Trusting in the Force opens for Luke unique and important opportunities. So, does this prove that Luke’s faith in the Force is advantageous? Not yet, it seems. First, we must show that the advantage Luke could gain by believing a truth is greater than the disadvantage he could have by believing a falsehood.

  “I Don’t Believe It” . . . “That Is why You Fail”

  James and Clifford agree that believing truths and avoiding falsehoods are our “fi
rst and great commandments as would be knowers;”169 but these are two different things. For instance, one could avoid error by believing nothing, but it seems clear there is value in believing some things, particularly true things. So which is more important, or does each have same worth? Clifford stresses the avoidance of error, but it seems to me that James is correct when he says that believing what’s true is equally or even more important than weeding out false beliefs.

  Furthermore, some truths cannot be realized without faith. In The Empire Strikes Back, when even Han has become a bit of a believer, he intentionally flies the Millennium Falcon into an asteroid field to lose the Imperial TIE fighters chasing him. Han’s belief in his ability as a pilot despite great odds (3,720 to one against, by C-3PO’s calculations) helps create the fact of his (and his crew’s) survival. By choosing to believe in spite of a lack of justification, Han may actually help create a truth, the truth of his survival. And this hardly seems morally wrong.

  In some cases, it seems we can create truths through our beliefs. Take the often heard story of a man confronted by dangerous criminals in a dark alley. Instead of running from the criminals or fighting them, which would be futile, the man appeals to the good in the criminals, treats them as if they were loving people. And by treating the criminals as if they were loving despite better evidence, the criminals are made loving. This is perhaps what happens when Luke confronts Darth Vader on the second Death Star at the end of Return of the Jedi. The Emperor, meanwhile, tells Luke that his faith in his friends is his weakness. But Luke’s faith proves to be his saving grace. After Luke surrenders on Endor, he reminds his father there is still good in him, that he is still Anakin Skywalker. He does this with no justification, only faith, for Obi-Wan has told him Vader is lost: “He’s more machine now than man, twisted and evil.” Eventually, Luke’s faith saves him, as Vader kills the Emperor before the Emperor can destroy Luke. But Luke’s faith is not only beneficial for himself. It also saves his father, for his faith turns Anakin back to the Light Side of the Force before he dies. It thus seems that there are certain circumstances under which it is not only morally acceptable to have faith (to believe without sufficient evidence), but it can also be salvific for oneself and perhaps even for others.