Fictional Morality: Star Wars

Welcome, oh welcome, to the first in a short series I'm beginning on the ethics and morality of various fictional universes and the problems with them: problems qua ethical systems, problems with their reflection of reality, and the storytelling problems they create. I want to stress that I'm not doing this as a faux-intellectual exercise for comedic value (see Famous Fictional Scientists or A Mind-Bending Question); I'm giving the old ethical muscles a bit of a stretch and really looking critically at these moral codes that we are supposed to accept. It's not terribly important, as ethical work goes, but it is at least fun and could potentially reveal things about ethics in the real world.

My first order of business is one near and dear to my heart: Star Wars. The ethical problems in Star Wars are many, and by Episode III they had significantly inhibited decent, believable storytelling.

The Jedi Code

The Jedi Code is the fundamental prescription of Star Wars morality. It gives a basic, easy to memorize (I should know) rundown of things good and bad as seen by the Jedi and, thusly, as enforced on the galaxy to one extent or another. It should be said, though, that Jedi are sort of a religious paramilitary organization and they have little or no legal authority. They do not, as a major tenet, force their beliefs on anyone or lord authority over others. Their ubiquity, however, throughout the Star Wars galaxy, and their major influence in all cultures and through the halls of government mean that Jedi morality is the ethical code to which others are expected to follow, force-sensitive or not. This means they are probably influencing others with their own questionable ethical system.

The code is as follows:

There is no emotion; there is peace.
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.
There is no passion; there is serenity.
There is no death; there is the Force.

We will examine this line-by-line informed by what else we know about Jedi from the movies and hopefully we will come to a complete picture of their ethical system. (I'm eschewing the Expanded Universe here partially because it would make things too complicated and partially because it's really little more than paid fanfiction.)

The first line: "There is no emotion; there is peace." This line, at first glance, might seem to be setting up a false dichotomy between emotion and peace. This is, in a way, part of the problem, as we will soon see, but the biggest problem here that emotion and peace do not actually exist on a continuum from which a false dichotomy would be derived. Saying "There is no emotion; there is peace" is like saying "There are no carrots; there is steak." Why can't there be both?

The implication that a lack of emotion is the same as the presence of peace is one that I'm sure most people would have a hard time accepting. Emotional control is one thing; completely eradicating the concept of emotion from your psyche is another. Emotions are part of the human experience; at the risk of sounding Kirk-like (and thus injecting a bit of Trek into Wars), emotions are part of what make us human.

And moreover, is not a feeling of emotional peace in itself an emotion? I submit that it is. I also submit that it is quite possible to be very emotional about something and still be at peace. Exultant happiness does not exclude peace. Being in love does not exclude peace. One can even feel at peace in hatred, I imagine.

Even bigger problems arise when we look at the Star Wars universe as context. The biggest implication of this part of the Jedi Code is that Jedi are urged to be completely emotionless. On one hand, this allows them (potentially) to deliver impartial judgements. On the other, it denies them things that might well make them better people, put them more "at peace," so to speak. Anakin Skywalker could have had a perfectly fine marriage were it not for this code. Instead, he hid his marriage and was wracked with (poorly acted) anxiety over his breach of the code. Were this tenet absent, he would have had emotion and peace. Instead he had emotion and emotional turmoil because he was breaking Jedi dogma.

This tenet is also inherently cruel given the structure of Jedi training. The Padawan learner inevitably builds a strong emotional bond with his teacher, all the while being told that such emotion is immoral and wrong. We have problems from the outset. It is almost reminiscent of the oft-told story about various militaries through time: the troops are each given a puppy and told to love it and take care of it, then once they have bonded with it are instructed to kill their puppies. The Padawans are thrown into a situation where emotion is inevitable but are led to believe that such emotion is wrong and should be eliminated.

This tenet, perhaps more than any of the others, betrays the needs of the Jedi to control the minds and actions of their own. It seems little more than a way to control people by limiting the minutiae of their lives. From a practical standpoint, it asks the nearly-impossible from Jedi and creates bad situations when Jedi make perfectly human decisions. I imagine this round proscription of emotion is responsible for more Jedi going dark than a hundred Sith Lords.

The second line: "There is no ignorance; there is knowledge." This is certainly a lofty moral prescription: learn as much as you can. With this tenet I do not think that they claim to be possessors of all final knowledge, but rather that they urge Jedi to seek knowledge constantly rather than allowing themselves to be ignorant. It's really pretty on the surface, but given its context in the Star Wars universe, it becomes essentially meaningless. The reason: newage bullshit.

Jedi sometimes seem like perpetual fonts of folk "wisdom" and empty platitudes. They are constantly being urged to "use their feelings" and think with their hearts rather than their minds. Rather than critically evaluate the options when making an important decision, Jedi are expected to meditate on it and "feel" the solution through the Force. What this means is that Jedi have no consistent, uniform way of acquiring knowledge. Presumably the scientific method exists in the Star Wars universe; I'm at a loss to account for all of their high tech otherwise. Jedi, however, while making use of the fruits of science downplay and try to eradicate the reasoned processes of thought that made it all possible in the first place.

While I'm sure that there are many, many Jedi with deep understandings of hyperdrive technology, galactic history, or Hutt biology, they can be little more than spectators who memorize the facts. They are urged to feel rather than think, to value the subjective over the objective and confirmable, the emotional over the rational (funny, considering the first line of the code). The second line of the Jedi Code fails to adequately describe how Jedi actually act and by perpetuating such a situation the Jedi are either hypocritical or (ironically) quite ignorant. The way in which they actually act regarding knowledge is intellectually irresponsible and possibly, depending on the gravity of the decision to which they "feel" a solution, ethically irresponsible. Moreover, its reliance on "feeling" truth is in direct contradiction with the first line of the Jedi Code regarding emotion.

The third line: "There is no passion; there is serenity." This line is almost just a restating of the first. The major difference is in the choice of "passion" instead of "emotion." It would seem, really, a weaker version of line one, as "passion" is generally understood as "strong emotion."

The first problem with even this limited proscription of emotion is, again, the false false dichotomy, so to speak, we saw in line one: passion and serenity are not mutually exclusive, and the absence of passion does not guarantee serenity. One who is passionately in love is often quite serene, whereas one who lacks all emotion could possibly be considered clinically depressed and then is most certainly not serene.

Of course, this line could be instructing the Jedi to eschew passion and replace said passion with serenity; that, while not mutually exclusive, it is better to be serene than not and better to be seren alone that either in concert with passion. From here I have to ask, quite simply, why?

This claim has, as far as I can see, no basis in reality and no rational back-up. Of course, looking to line two, we might get insight into how this line was created: it was not critically examined, it just "felt right." That the Jedi would deny themselves and others something so human as passion based on an ill-defined and subjective "feeling" is an object example of their lack of an equitable system of ethics.

From a practical standpoint, we also run into similar problems as in line one. Asking your Jedi to be dispassive toward everything not only denies their humanity but creates mental friction and stress when they do, as humans tend to, get passionate about things.

Another practicality issue is the utility of passion. The Jedi, as a paramilitary organization, would, were they rational, want to use all the tools at their disposal when it came time to defend the galaxy against the forces of evil. Passion is a great motivator, both in rhetoric (getting people on your side in the coming conflict) and in conflict itself. What good is it to fight impassively for your cause? A conflict, be it verbal, intellectual, or physical, almost requires passion, both so you can win over allies and so you can keep yourself fueled for the fight. The Jedi's blatant dismissal of such a useful tool is at once irresponsible and unconscionable.

And besides all of that, how many Jedi even bother to follow this tenet (or the first line, for that matter)? Obi-Wan Kenobi is perhaps the finest lightsaber duelest in history, and he is quite obviously very passionate about his fights. Mace Windu is passionate about justice. Yoda is passionate about proper Jedi training. Hypocrites all, or just people being people in spite of their poorly constructed ethical system?

The final line: "There is no death; there is the Force." Onward, Christian Soldiers. That's what I think when I see this. It is, like promises of Heaven, a comfort to those doomed to die, but could possibly be used as an comfort when asking or ordering people to die. It may be all well and true in the Star Wars Universe, and evidence seems to indicate that it is, but that's no excuse for downplaying life by trivializing death.

Of course, this could be interpreted as simply a prescription that one should not fear death, in which case it is perhaps the most innocuous of tenet of the Jedi Code, especially when paired with its actual truth in the Star Wars universe. I'm left to wonder, though, about all those poor saps who are not Force-sensitive. Do they live on in the Force after death, or is that a treat reserved for only those with midichlorians in thier bloodstreams?

The Reality of it All

Disclaimer: It's fiction, it's not real, yadda yadda yadda. The protection of fiction, however, does not give a serious writer an excuse to create characters who act in way that cannot even be understood by the audience. Physics is one thing. I can, for some reason, sooner forgive settings that break our laws of physics than I can characters whose morality and decisions make no sense whatsoever.

In the Star Wars Universe, morality apparently works differently from its counterpart in our universe. This can be summed up in one simple quote from The Empire Strikes Back: "Anger. Fear. Aggression. The dark side are they." Yoda, with this instruction to his student Luke Skywalker, essentially makes the claim "Anybody who is angry, fearful or aggressive has gone to the dark side."

This would be fine if it was merely an analytical claim: "the dark side" is defined as a collection of attitudes and actions including the emotional states of anger, fear, and aggression. Were "Anger, fear, and aggression are the dark side" akin to "An unmarried male is a bachelor," we wouldn't have any problems at all. Yoda would have to defend his definition of "the dark side," certainly, but it would be up for debate and not metaphysically binding.

The problem is that Yoda is really making an empirical claim, one that is objectively true in the real world (outside of definitions) and is metaphysically binding. What I mean by that is that, in the Star Wars universe, one who is angry, fearful, or aggressive is, in a very real physical sense, participating in the dark side of the force and is thus evil. There is objective morality in the Star Wars universe, and according to it, that person is evil.

Here we come to one of my biggest problems with Star Wars morality: it completely ignores intentionality. No matter your intentions when taking an aggressive action, you are, while undertaking said act of aggression, actually evil, and not just by definition. The action is evil thanks to a pesky metaphysical technicality and all your good intentions can't make a single dent in that. The upshot is that a series of aggressive acts, or actions taken in anger, change you from a good person into an evil person (for real, again, not just by definition), and your intentions likewise change from good ones to evil ones.

Take a test case: A "hedge Jedi" who discovers his Force-sensitivity in the absence of the Jedi Council and their code of ethics. He learns his way around the Force through experimentation and eventually gets a fairly decent intuitive grasp of his powers. One day our hedge Jedi happens upon an evil, evil man attempting to rape his sister (the Jedi's sister, not the evil man's sister). He throws some Force lightning at the rapist, halting the attack. But, lacking the rigorous emotional conditioning of the Jedi Order, he does it not out of a dispassionate command to defend the innocent, but out of a passionate, emotional, and, yes, angry and aggressive (but nonetheless ethically well-motivated) desire to defend the innocent. According to Star Wars morality, this good person who acted with the same intention (to protect the innocent), because of the way in which he realized that intention is now one step closer to actually being the rapist he stopped.

But this doesn't make any sense at all. He might feel guilty about his action later on, but his action, motivated by good, would not magically make him more sadistic, twisted, and evil just because.

Let's go a bit further. Say that an evil, evil overlord (motivated by a desire to do evil) lives in a tower on a hill above our hedge Jedi's village and is constantly oppressing the populace. Whenever he sends his henchmen to terrorize the village, our hedge Jedi, out of his passionate love for his friends and neighbors and his rage at the evil overlord in the tower, turns them violently back with his Force powers.

If the evil overlord attacks enough times, our hedge Jedi will eventually, defying all rationality, become just as twisted and evil as the evil overlord simply by doing the right thing. That his intentions were good are immaterial. That a real Jedi might have taken the same actions in the same circumstances is also immaterial. The fact that his actions were informed by passion and anger turns him into an evil person with intent to do evil.

I believe the complete absurdity of this speaks for itself.

All of this is informed, like so much fiction, by the myth of pure evil. The real world is not divided up into camps where good people do good things for good reasons and evil people do evil things for evil reasons. Moustache-twirling villains who sit around contemplating evil do not exist.

The prequel trilogy made an attempt to portray Emperor Palpatine as simply a power-hungry senator who really wanted order in the galaxy and seemed, on some level, to honestly think he was doing the right thing by creating that order. It all came off as pretty hollow, however, given his portrayal in Jedi as a wizened, evil old codger who just liked oppressing people because he loved doing evil. His evil, maniacal laughter while he hurled the entire senate at Yoda also belies this portrayal. At his core, Palpatine really is just your average unrealistic moustache-twirler.

Far more often people do evil things out of good intentions, or they don't really believe what they are doing to be evil. The KKK honestly believes themselves to be in the right, for example. They are not motivated to their evil by a desire to do evil, but a desire to do what they, in their twisted way, think is right. This is far more often the case. Ethics in the Star Wars universe would improve vastly if George Lucas would simply sit for a minute and think about the patent absurdity of people doing evil things for evil reasons. Even sociopaths don't, by and large, do "evil" because it is "evil." They're simply unmotivated to do good and have no empathy or conscience. A simple lack of the angel on one shoulder is different from the active presence of a devil on the other.

In the end, Star Wars morality is contrived and backed up by a dubious metaphysics that seems to exist only because the morality needs it. The morality, by contrast, is so fucked up because the metaphysics demand that it be so. Well-intentioned people simply do not magically morph into evil-intentioned people based on the emotional content of their moral decisions. In fact, most moral decisions are made because of a little emotion called "empathy." The other problem with this set up, of course, is that it's damned hard to find an evil-intentioned person. Power hungry? Sure. Psycopathic? Why not? Does evil for evil's sake? A fictional contrivance by people with small imaginations.

The Making of a Sith Lord

The best place to watch these nonsensical moral metaphysics play out is in the final hour of Episode III: Revenge of The Sith. The main character is, of course, Anakin Skywalker, a loving husband and well-intentioned Jedi who values truth, justice, and good. The problem: he's a little bit bad about emotional control.

The plot dictates that Anakin must become Darth Vader. We've known that since the end of Empire. It's tempting to say that Star Wars morality is serving the plot here, but given that Lucas's metaphysical contrivances existed long before Hayden Christensen badly read poorly written dialogue opposite the usually decent (and totally hot) Natalie Portman, I think it's fair to say that the way Anakin's fall played out is at least partially a consequence of the morality Lucas had created for his universe.

What we see, all through the movie, is a young man who is filled with good intentions but is being seduced (in a creepy old man sort of way) by the eeeevil Senator Palpatine. The thing is, Palpatine plays to Anakin's moral rightness and good intentions while doing this. At no point does Anakin's desire to do good waver. There was a brief glimpse of his anger when he slaughtered the Sand People in Episode II and some angst in Episode III, but nothing that wasn't motivated by a desire to do the right thing.

But wait! Anakin is in the office when Mace Motherfucking Windu storms in to arrest Palpatine (after a tip-off to Palpatine's evil by, who else, Anakin himself). He watches the fight and stands there, sort of awestruck, when Windu has Palpatine on the ropes. Windu decides he is going to kill Palpatine then and there because he is simply too dangerous to be left alive to stand trial. Really, Mace Motherfucking Windu had a point. Palpatine was an extremely powerful Sith Lord who was, at that very moment, attempting to kill Windu.

Anakin, however, thanks to his dedication to doing the right thing, argues that Palpatine should be taken into custody and put to trial before a setence is decided. It is this honorable intention to extend impartiality to even the vilest of wrinkly old pedophiles (mixed, arguably, with pity and empathy for the old man's pain) that causes him to behand Windu, and Palpatine sends him to his death on the distant ground level of Coruscant.

So what's Anakin's next action after his good intentions have indirectly caused Windu's death? Does he take the Senator into custody so he can be tried? To quote Darth Vader, "Noooooooooooooo!" He gets on his knees and swears fealty to somebody he knows is evil, somebody he fucking turned into the authorities, and becomes Palpatine's dedicated evil servant!

In the next hour or so he gleefully slaughters children, attempts to kill his wife (who, out of his love for her, indirectly caused his "fall"), and fights at great length with his best friend.

His good intentions led to a series of arguably bad decisions that, coupled with the emotion and passion he felt towards his wife, caused him to become an evil person with evil intentions.

Of course, he is represented as just hopeless. This, like Lucas's pretention to Palpatine's moral complexity, rings hollow, feels like an afterthought meant to evoke moral complexity without actually containing it. The complete absurdity of Anakin's fall to the dark side, the Star Wars dichotomy that completely ignores intentionality, belies any attempts at complexity Lucas might make.

His patently absurd moral metaphysics led to one of the dumbest plots in modern cinema, and one of the least sympathetic characters ever written. Nobody can understand Anakin's decisions, because they were informed not by normal human intellect and emotion but instead by a moral framework that perforce makes smiling murderers out of good people thanks to a pointless and unnecessary metaphysical contrivance.

Of course, it might be argued that Yoda's warning about anger, fear and aggression was simply a self-fulfilling prophecy, that Anakin bought so far into Jedi ethics that he felt his fall was inevitable and thus made it so. I have two responses to that: firstly, I do not believe it is true. Anakin Skywalker was a good, well-intentioned person until the very moment when he randomly decided to become a Sith Lord. This can only be explained by a moral metaphysics that changes a person's psychological makeup as they do things that are objectively wrong in that universe. Secondly, even if it is true that Yoda's claim was a self-fulfilling prophecy rather than a metaphysically binding warning, the entire Jedi ethical system is made that much worse. The very tenets the espouse are what drive people to the dark side after they make a few mistakes. A good Jedi who screws up a couple of times feels he is irredeemable and evil and thus becomes irredeemable and evil. What's more, the Jedi are so convinced of their righteousness, so sure that their claims really are metaphysically binding, that they refuse to address the root problem and are, in a very real way, somewhat evil themselves.

I am reminded of the Catholic Church's strategy in dealing with pedophile priests: don't admit that their proscription of healthy sexual behavior is wrong and stupid, just punish the guilty.

If this doesn't condemn Jedi morality to the spice mines of Kessel, I don't know what does.

So, really, in the end, I have very little good to say about the morality presented in Star Wars. On its own merits it is frivolous, self-contradictory, and irresponsible both ethically and intellectually. It is built around a completely unrealistic metaphysical structure that causes people to act in ways that people would never act and change in ways that people would never change. It is a major contributing factor to some really bad "character development" and storytelling.

So who cares, really? Well, maybe nobody, but I'm pretty sure there are people out there who never gave a second thought to the "goodness" of the morality espoused by the Star Wars movies. I used to be one of them (memorized the Jedi Code, remember?). I'm hoping that, like people who unquestioningly think Ghost Hunters is true, I might reach a few folks with this and get them really thinking about ethics rather than just accepting, Jedi-like, something that "feels right."

Up later: The morality of Dungeons and Dragons.