Fighting Star Wars: The Battle That Never Ends

Our first introduction to the deeper lore of Star Wars occurs in New Hope when Obi-Wan Kenobi explains to Luke Skywalker that for thousands of generations the Jedi stood as guardians over the Galaxy until the dark times of the Empire. In essence, once upon a time, the Galaxy was a reasonably good place. The fact that this is no longer the case must therefore be the fault of some villain.

There are clear political implications for this version of galactic history. If only that villain can be removed, the Galaxy will once again become a good place. If only Luke would be willing to abandon his moisture farm, help Obi-Wan rescue Princess Leia, blow up the Death Star with his X-wing, learn to use the Force, and put Darth Vader into a position where he has to choose between betraying Emperor Palpatine or watching his son be tortured to death with force lightening over the course of three movies then the people of the Galaxy will be able to live happily ever after. As such, Luke is morally justified in trying to do these things even though there is only a small chance of success. Furthermore, his actions will lead to a galactic Civil War with a body count escalating presumably into the billions the closer he comes to his goal.

From the Expanded Universe, we learn that Obi-Wan’s version of galactic history has as much validity as what he says about Luke’s father. Instead, the Jedi and the Sith have been locked in a cycle of combat that has gone on for thousands of years. Neither side can ever win this struggle because they are both trapped by their own ideologies. To be a Jedi means to obey the Force and not attempt to use the Force to take over the Galaxy even if it is done to refashion the Galaxy into what they think is a better place. Any Jedi who tries to "fix" the Galaxy by actually trying to eliminate the Sith will inevitably become a Sith Lord themselves. Thus, the cycle will continue even if the Sith Lord in question is defeated. We see this in the examples of Raven, Exar Kun, Ulic Qel-Droma, and Jacen Solo, all of whom become Sith Lords themselves precisely because they tried to fight the Sith. It is the Sith who believe in using the Force to refashion the Galaxy in their own image. So, anyone who tries to directly fight the Sith has already tacitly admitted that the Sith are right about fixing the Galaxy by killing a whole bunch of people. The only thing that remains is accepting that the Sith are also right about the relatively minor details such as wiping out the Jedi and destroying the Republic.  

What limits the Sith and stops them from conquering the Galaxy and destroying the Jedi is simply the fact that they are all a bunch of Sith Lords. They will inevitably stab each other in the back in order to claim the mantle of supreme Sith Lord.

The Sith Lord who understood this best was Darth Bane. He recognized that the Sith could never defeat the Jedi in head-to-head combat no matter their superiority in starfighters or lightsaber duelists. His solution was to wipe out all the other Sith Lords and establish the Rule of Two. There should be a Sith Master and a Sith Apprentice. The purpose of the Master is to train the Apprentice to be powerful enough in the Dark Side to kill them. If the Apprentice fails, they will die and the Master will find a new student. If the Apprentice succeeds, they will become the new Master and be tasked with finding an even more powerful student to kill them in turn. Following this logic, the Sith Lords of the Bane tradition left the Galaxy in the hands of the Jedi for a thousand years until Darth Sidious was able to take ever the Galaxy as Emperor Palpatine by baiting the Jedi into fighting the Clone Wars.

Recognizing that there is no defeating the Sith allows one to put a different twist on the original films. It should be noted that neither Obi-Wan nor Yoda ever bother to directly fight the Empire. Instead, they submit themselves to the will of the Force and trust that the Sith will naturally be their own downfall. (Whatever Disney is planning to do with the Obi-Wan series that does not fit with this should be rejected as a retcon done in the spirit of greed and not out of faithfulness to the original.)  

When Luke comes to him with R2-D2 and the message from Leia, Obi-Wan agrees to leave Tatooine not to fight the Empire but to train Luke in the Force. Rather than fight against Darth Vader, Obi-Wan allows himself to be killed, teaching Luke the pacifist lesson that it is better to allow the Sith to kill you than strike them down and risk becoming a Sith Lord yourself. Obi-Wan guides Luke in destroying the Death Star. This is an act of self-defense and not designed to fix the Galaxy. Of true importance here is that Luke learns to trust the Force to fire the torpedo and not his ship's computer.

Later, in Empire Strikes Back, Luke wishes to go rescue Han, Leia, Chewie, and the droids. Both Yoda and Obi-Wan warn him not to go. It is more important that Luke stays in a swamp studying the Force than to try saving his friends on Cloud City as this will likely lead him to the Dark Side. Luke does not listen to this advice and because of this loses his hand. On the plus side, he does gain a father.

Discovering the truth about Vader forces Luke to internalize the lesson that Obi-Wan and Yoda had been trying to teach him. He cannot defeat the Sith in a lightsaber duel. To win such a fight, killing his own father, would actually be a worse outcome than dying as it would turn him to the Dark Side. Luke, though, still wants to help the Rebel Alliance destroy the Second Death Star so he agrees to join Han and Leia on their mission to Endor. Sensing Vader’s presence, finally causes Luke to realize that there is nothing he can do to help the Rebellion. His only option is to surrender to Vader in the hope that he can either convince Vader to run away with him or that both of them would be blown up in the Death Star along with the Emperor when the Rebel fleet arrives. 

Taken before the Emperor, Luke finds himself forced into a fight with Vader that he knows he cannot allow himself to win. Of course, the Emperor is relying on the fact that Luke is not capable of simply standing back, allowing the Rebellion to be crushed, without trying to swing his lightsaber at something. Even here, Luke tries to avoid fighting Vader until Vader baits him with the possibility that Leia might turn to the Dark Side. Without the Rebellion to use against the Empire, Leia would have no choice but to turn to the Dark Side to continue her fight. That is unless Luke is willing to sacrifice himself to the Dark Side in order to defeat the Empire. While Luke initially gives in (leading to my all-time favorite Star Wars moment as Luke beats down on Vader to somber vocals), he refrains from striking the killing blow. Palpatine tries to seal the deal on Luke's downfall by making sure that Luke murders his father with the full knowledge of the consequences, but this causes Luke to step back. Luke realizes that killing Vader would not do anything to bring down the Empire but would simply make himself Vader’s replacement at the Palpatine’s side. He, therefore, gives himself over to the Force and throws his lightsaber away, knowing that Palpatine is going to kill him. In the end, Luke is saved because he refuses to fight the Sith. Instead, he allows the Sith to destroy themselves as Vader both finds his redemption but also fulfills his duty as a Sith Apprentice to kill his Master.   

This perspective on the original Star Wars films offers us a window on part of what was wrong with the prequels and sequels and how they could have been done better. The prequels should have been about Anakin's fall to the Dark Side. Rather than focusing on Anakin's relationship with Padme, we should have been given Anakin's relationship with Senator Palpatine. (The novelization of Attack of the Clones actually tries to fix this problem.) Anakin should not have gone to the Dark Side suddenly in the second half of Revenge of the Sith out of a desire to save Padme. Instead, Anakin should have spent most of the prequels faced with the problem that the Republic and the Jedi could not save the Galaxy even from petty slave dealers on Tatooine let alone from the Separatists. The only person who can help Anakin is Palpatine. Once Anakin realizes that Palpatine is a Sith Lord, he makes the choice to submit himself to the Dark Side, sacrificing the Republic and the Jedi in order to save the Galaxy. 

In the sequels, having Luke refuse to fight the First Order was fine. That being said, he should not have turned on the Force. Luke's decision not to fight to protect the New Republic should have been what drove Kylo Ren to the Dark Side. He knows that Palpatine is out there and the Republic is not capable of standing up to him. The only solution is to use the First Order to conquer the Galaxy so there is a united Galaxy to fight Palpatine. Kylo Ren is even willing to kill his own father, Han Solo, simply to more fully submerge himself into the Dark Side. He believes that only by giving himself completely to the Dark Side, no matter the personal cost to his soul, can he possibly be able to stand against Palpatine. This would explain his adoration for his grandfather Darth Vader. From his perspective, Vader was the true savior of the Galaxy. He became a Sith Lord to fight that evil from within. 

When Star Wars is at its best, it features not just space battles and lightsabers, but a profound moral question. Is it possible to fight evil without succumbing to it? As with Return of the Jedi, we should see tens of thousands of people fighting in space over Republic or Empire, a few dozen on some mission and it all comes down to one Jedi trying to save himself from becoming a Sith Lord.     

Walking With Aslan: What Only Art Can Convey

 

In the previous post, I talked about the idea that art is needed to express those things that the artist cannot express in formal words. If the artist really understands what they want to say they should simply come out and say it otherwise what you have is mere propaganda. I wish to further explore this idea. One of the primary things that formal writing cannot express is an emotional connection to an idea. 

Consider the example of Aslan from C. S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia series. On the surface, Aslan is simply a stand-in for Jesus. He is the Son of the Emperor across the sea. He takes on physical form as a lion to come among the animals of Narnia. In the early medieval understanding of the purpose of the passion, Satan had a deal with God where he had the right to all sinners as long as he never took anyone innocent. Jesus came down to Earth and lived a perfect life before being executed. He then tricked Satan into trying to take his soul. By doing this, Satan nullified his agreement with God, allowing Jesus to rescue the souls of all believers from Hell. Similarly, the White Witch has a deal with the Emperor that she has the right to kill all traitors including the human Edmund. Aslan makes a deal that, in exchange for giving up her claim on Edmund, he will take Edmund's place. The Witch kills Aslan. What she does not realize is that killing the innocent Aslan will break the Stone Table upon which her agreement is written and bring Aslan back to life. Aslan is then able to free all the creatures that the Witch had turned into stone. 

If Narnia could be boiled down into Aslan equals Jesus, there would be little point to the books. Lewis could have simply explained the doctrine of atonement in a straightforward child-friendly manner for kids to either accept or reject. What Narnia offers that no lecture on Christian theology could ever possibly convey is that emotional connection to the event. To me, the most profound scene in the entire Chronicles is when Aslan allows Susan and Lucy to accompany him to the Stone Table. There is that moment where Aslan's shoulders slump and asks the girls to put their hands on him. It is as if even the mighty Aslan struggles with the enormity of what he is about to do. The reader then joins the girls in surprise and horror as Aslan allows himself to be captured, humiliated, and murdered. We get to experience their despair, seeing that everything is now lost, followed by their joyous surprise to see Aslan standing alive before them with the Table broken. 

This emotional connection to the drama of the Cross is a central concept for Christian art. One thinks of the example of Michelangelo's Pieta. One of my personal favorites is the hymn Stabat Mater, which contemplates Mary's suffering at the foot of the Cross. 

This is not something that you can argue someone into. The biggest challenge to faith, even above any intellectual arguments, is the simple fact that even children raised within a particular religious tradition are still cut off from its artistic culture. You can give a kid all the Sunday school lectures in the world, but it is not going to help unless they are emershed within Christian art so they could contemplate the living faith that could compel an artist to produce such work. Narnia is not a trick to get kids to read about Jesus and make him look cool. It is an invitation to emersh oneself within a larger Christian artistic tradition where the mourning of Good Friday and the joy of Easter Sunday are not just theoretical concepts to be believed in but tangible realities to be felt. 

The Hitchhiking Pilgrim's Guide to Progressing through the Multiverse

 

I recently finished reading an advanced copy of the Postmodern Pilgrim's Progress by Kyle Mann and Joel Berry of the satire site Babylon Bee. As satirists, I take them very seriously. Whether or not conservatism has a future is going to come down to whether the next generation of conservative activists have properly internalized what the Bee offers. As a reviewer, I come to this newest offering of theirs from a fairly unique perspective. I am a Jew who has read John Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, C. S. Lewis' Pilgrim's Regress as well as Douglas Adams. 

In essence, what Mann and Berry have given us is the Bunyan classic if it has been written by a Christianized Adams. In the role of the pilgrim Christian, we have the unbeliever Ryan Fleming, who agrees to attend a church service because of a last request from his teenage younger brother who died of cancer. Ryan then finds himself transported into another world called the Dying Lands where he is given a quest to wake the king and save the world. As Bunyan's original has a companion named Faithful, who helps keep him on the right path, Ryan is joined by a woman named Faith. All of this is told by an angelic narrator who is essentially the Book from Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Ryan is modeled after Arthur Dent. He is a perfectly normal unexceptional person who finds himself in an insane world and insists on being his reasonable self. For example, he tries to point out to the people in the City of Destruction that, if they bothered to look up into the sky, they would see a storm of meteorites coming to destroy them and is frustrated when everyone continues eating their bread and cheese. (Granted, Ryan does find the bread and cheese to be quite marvelous and almost fails to escape himself.)  

Jordan Peterson argues that true art requires that the artist has an idea but one that they cannot directly put into words. If the artist understands the message they wish to convey then they should come outright and say it. If the artist consciously tries to smuggle a message into a story then what they have is propaganda and the inherent dishonesty of the process undermines its artistic value. What makes the original Pilgrim's Progress work, despite the fact that it is a Puritan sermon crammed into story form, is that it is so blatant and earnest as to be above the charge of guile. 

Bunyan's message that he makes no attempt to dress up is the Protestant doctrine of justification by faith. To understand it is to recognize that it is a horrific doctrine that no one would willingly accept unless they were forced to through divine revelation or the reading of scripture. You are a totally depraved sinner and there is no action that you can perform that can make you less deserving of eternal damnation. That being the case, Jesus still died to save you despite your fundamental unworthiness of salvation. To be justified through faith means to walk that tightrope and simultaneously believe both of these things at the same time. 

Christian's primary struggle in the early stage of his journey is with this balancing act. He comes to know that he is a sinner living in the City of Destruction by reading a book written by the creator of the world that tells him this fact. Christian, therefore, abandons his wife and children even to the point of covering his ears and shouting "eternal life" as he runs away from them. Evangelist tells him to stay on the road to the Celestial City as that is the only way he will eventually be able to be relieved of his burden of sin. What repeatably gets Christian off of the path is the temptation to believe that there might be an alternative way to escape his burden, such as following the Law, or despairing of ever being redeemed. 

The purpose of Bunyan is not to convince us to accept justification by faith by making it sound attractive or reasonable. On the contrary, Bunyan wants us to recognize that we need to accept this belief no matter how much it violates our every moral intuition simply because it is true. It also should be noted that Christian's struggle is not over his belief in God. The king's existence is an assumed fact. The only question is whether he can internalize the logic of justification by faith so that it carries him all the way to the end.  

This can be contrasted with Lewis, whose John utterly rejects the Landlord. It is not so much that John does not believe in the Landlord, though he is relieved when Mr. Enlightenment informs him that the Landlord was invented by the stewards, but that John rejects the sort of relationship the Landlord offers where, if you follow his rules, and you can live in his house with him forever but if you violate the rules you will be sent to his scorpion pit. John does his best to keep away from anything connected to the Landlord. His primary companion is Virtue (Kant) who insists on not caring whether the Landlord with his bribes and threats might exist. Instead, John seeks to find his island (joy). What John slowly is forced to accept is that, if he wants to cross the canyon of Peccatum Adae and reach his island, he is going to need the Landlord in the form of Mother Kirk.

In essence, Lewis was a 19th-century style romantic who came to accept that, in order to salvage this romanticism, he needed to ground it within a Christian worldview. Jesus, for Lewis, was all the best of mythology made real in human history. Lewis was not interested in the question of salvation let alone whether one could be saved through faith or works.

The big question for Lewis was whether one could maintain the enchanted worldview in the face of modernity that would allow someone to relate to God as a real individual as opposed to a mere theoretical proposition. Part of the appeal of Lewis, unlike Bunyan, is that his writing was designed to not antagonize readers. Anyone, even a Jew like me, could embrace Lewis as an exercise in attempting to maintain, with a straight face, that there is more to the universe than simple materialism. 

Lewis was a fundamentalist, not in the modern sense of holding particularly conservative theological views but in the sense of the early twentieth-century Christian Fundamentals pamphlets. Lewis was not interested in rehashing the early modern debates within Protestantism and ultimately with Catholicism, but in offering a few basic principles for a wide spectrum of Christians to rally around, what Lewis referred to as "mere Christianity." For Lewis, this primarily meant accepting that the God-Man had entered history in the person of Jesus in a completely factual and literal sense.  

 

With this in mind, we can begin to explore a major challenge of using Adams to make Bunyan work for a modern audience. The key to translating Bunyan is that there is no way that you can make him acceptable to most modern readers. Considering the amount of time that he spent in prison, it is not as if his message was all that acceptable to seventeenth-century ears.  

Bunyan was too earnest to do satire. I do not read Pilgrim's Progress as any kind of absurdist comedy. The book needs to be read with full salvation or damnation seriousness. The only thing absurd is why would a sinner like Christian be given so many chances to get back on the road when he did not even deserve to make it out of the City of Destruction? By contrast, Lewis can be seen in a comic light as he wished to mock his own highly roundabout path to Christianity and he offers a romp through modern philosophy. 

Absurdity was something essential to Adams and it connected to his atheism. His point was not the conventional Dawkins-style atheist polemic to render religion as absurd and atheism rational. Rather, he embraced a world that was absurd. The question then becomes, if the world is absurd no matter which way you turn, might it make more sense to accept a world that is absurd in its lacking of meaning than one where there are beings in charge who are ridiculous? 

Mann and Berry struggle with striking the right tone in their writing and ultimately in finding the purpose of their book. The book could have been a self-acknowledging satire of themselves as the kinds of people who read Adams and yet have somehow remained religious Christians. Alternatively, it could have served as a vehicle for the authors to explore something about their worldview that defies straightforward exposition. Much of the strength of the Babylon Bee is that it captures certain truths that could only be expressed by satire. If readers take nothing else from the Bee it should be the simple question of how is it that a satire site consistently offers a more thoughtful analysis of the world than CNN.  

The Postmodern Pilgrim offers some genuinely excellent moments with ideas that are best expressed through the surreal allegory of Pilgrim's Progress. The random people getting killed by falling meteorites in the City of Destruction offer a powerful response to Ryan's struggle with theodicy. We are tempted to turn the unfairness of children dying against God when it should cause us to contemplate the fact that we may randomly die at any time. People living in the time of Bunyan had a certain spiritual advantage over us as they were constantly confronted with dead children. There could be no pretense that life on Earth could be perfected as an end in itself. 

We have one of the best versions of the Devil since Screwtape. There is this delightful ambiguity to him because he tempts Ryan with what Ryan honestly wants, mainly to escape his miserable situation and get back home to his life. Ryan's Arthur Dent personality works well in these scenes. He knows better than to make an agreement with the Devil yet also sees nothing wrong with just talking to the Devil and struggles to say no when the Devil turns out to be so unfathomably reasonable. 

Similarly, there is Ryan and Faith's visit to Urbina. Readers of the original will be familiar with Faithful's martyrdom in the city of Vanity Fair, which is modeled after Jesus' passion. As such, the narrator offers the spoiler that Faith is going to die. Even though I was expecting Faith's death, how it is done still managed to be poignant. 

What I loved is how the authors make use of the issue of abortion with Humanist demanding that the travelers murder a child as the price of staying in the city. The scene captures why abortion is so important for religious conservatives. Living in a secular society that offers ever greater material comfort and seems to also make moral progress all without religion, where does one find the moral grounding to resist? If a person can truly see a fetus as a living being then the moral authority of modern secularism simply collapses. At the center of secular society is the mass murder of children. Without this murder of children, secular society, with women being able to pursue careers and sexual fulfillment as opposed to family and children, would not be practical. If people on the left demand that conservatives deny that abortion is murder and instead celebrate abortion as a constitutional right and as the liberating act of a woman freeing her body from the control of patriarchal society as the price of being accepted into secular society, then conservatives need to accept that they cannot be part of that society.  

This is a good book that makes for a fun read whatever your religious beliefs. I think it could have been a better book if the authors had been willing to spend the time giving it a more consistent narrative. The angel fails as a character because he does not advance the narrative and ends up as a distraction. One should not confuse making references to popular culture with actually being funny. The final meeting with the king certainly suffers as a McGuffin. Perhaps, instead of writing The Postmodern Pilgrim as a book, the authors could have used the travels of Ryan and Faith as a regular feature of the Babylon Bee where the Devil could offer us updates on their travails and progress.