This chapter discusses the roles of Anakin Skywalker in central story of the Star Wars saga, and that of Achilles in the ancient Greek epic poem The Iliad. When Anakin discovers that his mother has died violently at the hands of Tusken Raiders, his anger is transmuted into blind, hate‐filled rage and he goes on a killing spree in revenge. Like Anakin, Achilles' anger is turned into blind, hate‐filled rage when the person he loves most, Patroclus, (...) is killed by Hector, the prince of the Trojans. Like Anakin, Achilles barely managed to reemerge from the greatest danger and the greatest temptation he ever faced: nihilism. Anakin and Achilles found that going down the dark path of nihilism can cost them dearly. Like Achilles, Anakin barely makes it back from his journey into nihilism. (shrink)

This chapter discusses the role played by guardians and tyrants in Star Wars. The Jedi align themselves with the light side of the Force, while the Sith align themselves with the dark side. Although the Jedi are guardians of the galaxy, they refrain from ruling directly, acting as willing servants of the Old Republic. In Attack of the Clones, Anakin Skywalker and Senator Amidala demonstrate the trajectory of Plato's thinking when they engage in a semi‐serious debate about the (...) politics of the Republic. Plato's views in the Republic mirror the different types of rule in the Star Wars galaxy surprisingly well: democracy is vulnerable, tyrants only care about their own interests, and guardians of peace and justice are the state's best chance for flourishing. While democracy fails, allowing the Emperor to become a malevolent tyrant, the Jedi Council is cut off in its service to the Republic. (shrink)

This chapter opens with a discussion on the Luke Skywalker's role in Return of the Jedi. At the end of the film Skywalker must make a decision whether to ignore the utilitarian principle that he must kill his father to save the galaxy, or violate the ethical principle against dishonoring and murdering his own father and risk being turned to the dark side by the Emperor. Both are unacceptable to Luke. So he will have to turn a Sith (...) to the light side of the Force. Such a maneuver requires a leap of faith, and for that this chapter turns to a man who knew just how hard it was: the Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard. Luke realizes that killing Darth Vader will not bring balance to the Force. Luke defeats Vader in the duel, but saves him in not ending it the way everyone has been telling him to. (shrink)

This chapter examines the theodicy offered by the Christian philosopher and theologian, St. Augustine of Hippo. This examination of Augustine's theodicy explains the nature of the dark side of the Force to which Anakin succumbed. The chapter first explains Augustine's view of evil and how it relates to good. Like Luke, Augustine argues that moral evil, that is, evil done intentionally by a person is solely the fault of that person. For Augustine, the fault is found in the misuse (...) of a person's God‐given free will. The chapter examines this theodicy through the lens of two heroic Jedi who fall from grace: Anakin Skywalker and his grandson, Jacen. It shows how Augustine's view of the nature and relationship between good and evil opens up the possibility of Anakin's eventual redemption. (shrink)

Fatherly love should be evident in caring for the health and good of one's children, seeking to safeguard them from harm and to encourage their integrity. However, in Star Wars, Darth Vader promises his son's survival only on the condition that Luke Skywalker will serve his own monstrous, tyrannical master. Utilizing a philosophy of love and goodness to show how the parent–child relationship may be lost or regained, this chapter examines the transition in Anakin's life from a natural (...) love of others to a distorted, toxic caricature of love. The drama and trauma displayed in Star Wars allow us to recognize how an admirable love can lose its value, and in fact can become what motivates people to outrageously wicked acts. The chapter highlights that the good of the love in such relationships needs to be tempered by humility and wisdom. (shrink)

From widespread unemployment and mounting international hostilities, every day we are swept into more political chaos--so one brave man looks to the Star Wars universe for answers to our most urgent problems. "You can't stop the change -- anymore than you can stop the sun from setting." Anakin Skywalker was never able to live with this wisdom shared by his mother on the day he left home to train as a Jedi Knight. That failure led him to becoming (...) the fearsome villain we all know as Darth Vader. We're living in a time of unprecedented and rapid change. An age of chaos. Democracies are in decline worldwide. Dictators are ascendant. Civic organizations are crumbling. People feel lonelier and more rudderless than in any other time in recent history. We've tried to slow down, and in some cases we, like Anakin, have tried stop the change, but failed at every turn. The fears that come with living in an age of disruption have produced public anger, and that anger has swelled movements of hate. Author Stephen Kent believes part of the solution is hiding in plain sight. A story that binds together multiple generations with a common language, a moral framework, and a sense of wonder. It's Star Wars. What if we looked to Star Wars for more than just entertainment? How the Force Can Fix the World takes this challenge on by analyzing the core principles of the Star Wars franchise: HOPE, CHOICE, HUMILITY, EMPATHY, REDEMPTION, BALANCE and rejecting FEAR. Together, these are the Star Wars roadmap for living better lives, and maybe even fostering a better politics. The path that we're on -- where fear leads to anger, and anger to hatred -- will only end in suffering. But Star Wars shows us the way back from the brink. Shared stories of virtue that are beloved across cultures and political divides are hard to come by, but Star Wars is one such story. Turn on the news; things are pretty broken right now -- but the Force can fix the world. (shrink)

Complex webs of loyalties—to people, to institutions, and to principles—ensnare even the most mundane lives. When played out on a stage as grand as the Star Wars universe, these various webs of loyalties—and the consequent betrayals of many of those loyalties—simply become easier to make out. For a narrative universe that is often criticized for its childlike simplicity, Star Wars depicts a wide variety of degrees and kinds of loyalty and betrayal. This chapter will examine some of them in an (...) attempt to clarify exactly what it is to be loyal and why it matters. To understand the central roles loyalty and betrayal play in the Star Wars universe, consider the path of its central character: Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader. The two key moments of his life are both betrayals. First he betrays the Jedi and his mentor by joining the Sith, and then he betrays the Sith and his master by saving his son. The difference is that in betraying the Emperor, Vader fulfilled the letter of his oath as a Sith, and thus remained loyal to the Sith. It is only the motivation for his action that amounts to a betrayal of the Sith; the spirit of his action, rather than the action itself, betrayed the Sith. Had the betrayal been instead one motivated by seizing power, had Vader betrayed the Emperor in order to take his place, as he had earlier proposed to Luke, he would have remained a loyal Sith. Complications like this arise in almost every betrayal. Grand Moff Trachta and Grand Admiral Zaarin both betrayed the Emperor, but did so to preserve the Empire itself. Darth Bane betrayed the entire Sith Order, but did so in order to remain loyal to the basic tenets of the Sith. We betray one person to remain loyal to another. Given this, we have to ask, is there any inherent value in loyalty itself? If loyalties conflict, as they often do, how should we decide between them? This chapter will attempt to explore and answer these questions by considering various betrayals depicted in the Star Wars universe. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Disability and the Resurrection of the Body:Identity and ImaginationMedi Ann VolpeI love Star Wars. I watched Luke destroy the Death Star as a wide-eyed eight-year-old and I relished the downfall of the imperial walkers on the ice planet Hoth. I rejoiced with Luke at seeing his father, Anakin Skywalker (Darth Vader), restored in death to the Good Side of the Force, glowing faintly alongside Obi-wan Kenobi and (...) the Jedi master Yoda. In the 1983 version of The Return of the Jedi,' Anakin's Force ghost looked like the old, wounded, disabled man whose body Luke rescued from the second Death Star about to explode. Hayden Christiansen, who plays Anakin as a young man in the prequels Attack of the Clones and The Revenge of the Sith, was only two years old then; yet the 1983 film has since been edited so that his image is the Force ghost alongside Obi-wan Kenobi and Yoda. I find this troubling—and not just because I am a cantankerous old fan who likes things the way they were.For a theologian with an interest in disability,1 the swap calls to mind the worries of some disability theologians2 about continuity and discontinuity [End Page 993] in the resurrection: if disabilities that marked us or our loved ones in this life are eradicated, how does identity persist? George Lucas explained in an interview that, when Anakin Skywalker was "redeemed," he went back to being the person he was before he was consumed by the Dark Side: the real Anakin ceased to be when he became Darth Vader.3 But the replacement of the post–Darth Vader Anakin with the young, pre-Darth Vader Anakin creates enormous problems for thinking about the resurrection, even in the fictional Star Wars universe.4 Anakin seems to lose most of his adult life. Would he remember that he had been Darth Vader, or that he saved Luke's life? If he does not remember the event, how can this Force ghost be the same person that Luke rescued from Death Star 2.0? George Lucas's decision to replace Sebastian Shaw, who played Darth Vader in the original Return of the Jedi, with Hayden Christiansen introduces radical discontinuity into the narrative. The substitution does not give us the "real" Anakin; instead, we are left with neither Anakin nor Darth Vader, but a different person; someone Luke would not have recognized, and who might well not recognize either Luke or himself.In a similar vein, Nancy Eiesland mused that, without her disability, caused by a congenital, degenerative bone disease, she would be "unknown to [herself] and perhaps to God."5 Her perception of resurrection healing was that she would be as different in the resurrection as Hayden Christiansen is to Sebastian Shaw. Drawing on classical Christian teaching from Gregory of Nyssa to Matthias Scheeben,6 I will show in this essay that Eiesland's concern [End Page 994] is misplaced. Considering the way that the resurrection body is often portrayed, however, her concern is understandable. Disability theologians' qualms about the resurrection deserve a retrieval of the classical doctrine that addresses their suspicions about the discontinuity of identity in the resurrection and upholds the full humanity of people with disabilities, even profound intellectual disabilities.IIn one sense, the questions raised by disability theologians are not new.7 First-century Christians argued about the transformation that St. Paul envisaged, which involved continuity and change. In 1 Corinthians, he tells us "a mystery … we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed. For this perishable nature must put on the imperishable, and this mortal nature must put on immortality" (15:51–53). Christians debated the nature of the change involved in putting on immortality and in their debates asked questions about the continuity of identity. Early Christian thinkers, like the early-third-century theologian Tertullian (AD 160–220), were keen to establish that the ensouled body resurrected to punishment or reward was the same as the earthly... (shrink)

Relationships between children and parents pervade the Star Wars saga, especially if people include surrogate parents. Anakin's relationship with his mother, Shmi, in the prequels impacts his trajectory toward the dark side. In The Mandalorian, Mando's role as a surrogate father to Grogu transforms them into a “Clan of Two”. But the most significant parent‐child relationship in the saga may be the one between Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader. Confucius's teachings highlight the importance of benevolence, social order, and (...) ritual propriety among other virtues and values. This chapter shows that understanding Luke's surrender to Vader in terms of Confucian filial piety makes sense of how Luke is able to overcome the allure of the dark side and become a Jedi. Confucius's Analects has a moral framework called “exemplarism”. This is the idea that moral knowledge and practice do not start with principles, rules, duties, consequences, or character traits. (shrink)

Few Star Wars characters are more beloved than Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight, son of Darth Vader, and mentor to Rey. Fictional characters like Luke are wholly defined by how people understand, interpret, and evaluate their depictions within the fictions in which they appear. This chapter explores various ways to provide identity conditions for fictional characters. It examines a more sophisticated, but again ultimately incorrect, account of fictional character identity: the Say‐So Account, in which authors determine whether two characters, from (...) two fictional works, are identical. The Perspectival Account avoids the problems seen in the earlier accounts and provides the authors with an adequate account of identity conditions for fictional characters. Further, the Perspectival Account allows the authors to explain how the truth‐value of fictional character identity claims can change over time. (shrink)

Some fans have suggested that the titles of the Skywalker Saga films are in the wrong order. Episode VIII: The Last Jedi should've been “A New Hope” ‐since Luke's sacrifice in his battle with Kylo gives Rey and The Resistance a new hope in their struggle against the First Order. In his Two Treatises of Government, Locke argues for a better solution: a separation of religious and political power. Religion should be a private affair; politics and government should be (...) a secular matter. To understand Luke's position, it's important to understand that pacifism is not a call to inaction; when something wrong occurs that could be stopped by violence, the pacifist is not obligated to stand around and do nothing. Especially when it's an act of violence, the pacifist is obligated to stop it. (shrink)

The essays in this volume tackle the philosophical questions from these blockbuster films including: Was Anakin predestined to fall to the Dark Side? Are the Jedi truly role models of moral virtue? Why would the citizens and protectors of a democratic Republic allow it to descend into a tyrannical empire? Is Yoda a peaceful Zen master or a great warrior, or both? Why is there both a light and a dark side of the Force? Star Wars and Philosophy ponders (...) the depths of these subjects and asks what it truly means to be mindful of the "living force.". (shrink)

This third brand-new 'Star Wars & Philosophy' title once again takes a fresh look at the franchise with all-new chapters. The focus of this volume is the more recent entries into the franchise, including hit TV shows such as THe Mandalorian. Modern applied philosophy is also used to analyse the Star Wars universe: In addition to thorny metaphysical questions about the nature of time and free will, this volume highlights the staggering cultural impact of George Lucas's universe. The newest Star (...) Wars narratives tackle ethnicity on alien worlds and how love and sex with a droid like L3-37 would work ("It works"). The connections between the Separatist Freedom Movement and the struggle for social justice in the USA in the 21st century are brought to light. And philosophical second looks at Rian Johnson's The Last Jedi prove there is much more to this controversial entry in the Skywalker saga. (shrink)

Does it take faith to be a Jedi? Are droids capable of thought? Should Jar Jar Binks be held responsible for the rise of the Empire? Presenting entirely new essays, no aspect of the myth and magic of George Lucas’s creation is left philosophically unexamined in The Ultimate Star Wars and Philosophy. The editors of the original Star Wars and Philosophy strike back in this Ultimate volume that encompasses the complete Star Wars universe Presents the most far-reaching examination of the (...) philosophy behind Star Wars – includes coverage of the entire film catalogue to date as well as the Expanded Universe of novels, comics, television series, games and toys Provides serious explorations into the deeper meaning of George Lucas’s philosophically rich creation Topics explored include the moral code of bounty-hunter favourite Boba Fett, Stoicism and the Jedi Order, the nature of the Dark Side, Anakin and Achilles in a nihilism face-off, feminism and being chained to a giant slug, cloning, de-extinction, fatherhood, Wookiees, loyalty, betrayal, guardians, republics, tyrants, terrorism, civic duty, friendship, family, and more! Publishing in time for the global release of Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens on December 18, 2015 – hotly anticipated to become the first film to top $3 billion in worldwide box office sales. (shrink)

The Phantom Menace (TPM) is one of the most polarizing films in the Star Wars franchise. In short, the philosophy in TPM is to Daoism what Taco Bell is to Mexican food: TPM may not be most authentic example of Daoist philosophy, but it's got some of the same flavors. Daoist writings feature many stories where someone who may seem useless turns out to be successful, or something that seems to be worthless turns out to be invaluable. TPM features many (...) examples of those who are apparently useless and worthless triumphing over those who have better training, technology, or skills. Symbiosis is also a theme that runs through TPM. TPM's final victory is not the result of conscious intention. Victory comes, not through careful planning or heroic effort, but rather by Anakin being in the moment, acting without acting, just like Qui‐Gon told him to do. (shrink)

At first, he was merely scary and cool: tall, shrouded in black, with a deep, forbidding mechanized voice. Darth Vader, dark lord of the Sith -- torturer, murderer, fiend. But Vader, who returns to screens this week in Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, isn't simply evil, which may add to his appeal. While the first three released Star Wars films tracked Vader's redemption -- introducing him as the embodiment of evil, then revealing he was Luke Skywalker's father, then (...) allowing him to redeem himself -- the prequel trilogy has chronicled his descent, from sunny-faced slave boy to Sith lord. (shrink)

In Lucas's universe, the Jedi have a special capacity to connect with the Force. There is nothing more powerful in human psychology than the power of attraction in the love of one person for another. The power of passionate love between persons – sexual‐love or love of the body – is experience of the Force. The Jedi also teach their trainees to have a detached, compassionate love for others that is sometimes called “Platonic love.” Anakin's transformation into Darth Vader (...) seems to contradict a prophecy about him: that he's the Chosen One who would bring balance back to the Force. Star Wars doesn't leave the original love, Anakin's passionate love for Padmé, behind. The Force love of Rey and Ren concludes the drama of love that finally achieves the balance of the Force in the sequel trilogy. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Imagined Apotheoses: Drake, Harriot, and Ralegh in the AmericasWilliam M. HamlinPerhaps the two best known stories of Europeans being taken for gods by non-European peoples are those of Hernan Cortés in Mexico and Captain James Cook in Hawaii. Separated by two hundred sixty years, five thousand miles, and vast differences in cultural and linguistic context, these two incidents nonetheless share many traits in the conventional telling. Cortés and Cook (...) were both strong leaders, for instance, both capable of inspiring devotion among their subordinates. Both men became amateur ethnographers during their lengthy sojourns away from Europe, both sought to promote an image of respectful rather than rapacious foreign incursion, and both are said to have been taken for returning gods by the native peoples among whom they landed: Cortés for the Toltec culture-hero and demigod Quetzalcoatl, Cook for the Hawaiian deity Lono. Click for larger view View full resolutionFigure 1.“The Far Side” cartoon by Gary Larson. Courtesy of Chronicle Features, San Francisco.Recent scholarly studies and debates—among them the rather strident dispute between Gananath Obeyesekere and Marshall Sahlins over the alleged deification of Cook by eighteenth-century Hawaiians—have opened up these returning-god theories to skeptical critique and detailed justification; but such discussions have had little, if any, impact on popular imagination. 1 [End Page 405] Indeed, the idea that redoubtable European explorers can be (and often are) perceived as supernatural beings by non-European “primitives” has been uncritically perpetuated to this day by filmmakers, fantasists, writers of popular history, and purveyors of cultural literacy. E. D. Hirsch, Jr., for instance, informs our children that Caribbean islanders encountered by Columbus “asked if he had come from heaven”—the implication being, of course, that they took him for a god. 2 And in the recent film, 1492: Conquest of Paradise, we hear the indefatigable Admiral (played by Gerard Depardieu) claim that “on every island the natives welcome us with great generosity and trust.... Because of our appearance, we have been mistaken for gods, and are treated accordingly.” 3 Fortunately, we also have a “Far Side” parody of the cultural conceit on which such ideas in part rely, but the cartoon serves as well to demonstrate just how thoroughly the conceit has permeated our collective awareness (see figure 1). 4 Click for larger view View full resolutionFigure 2.“It’s against my programming to impersonate a deity.” From The Return of the Jedi, dir. Richard Marquand, Lucasfilm, Ltd., 1983. All Rights Reserved. Courtesy of Lucasfilm, Ltd.Let me offer just one other example. Near the end of the popular 1983 film The Return of the Jedi, the forest-dwelling Ewoks begin to chant and salaam upon first glimpsing the golden robot C-3PO, who in turn tells his captured comrades, “I do believe they think I am some sort of god.” When Han Solo sarcastically asks the robot to use his “divine influence” to help extricate them from their predicament, C-3PO replies that such an action would be improper: “It’s against my programming to impersonate a deity.” Here we see, embedded within a film romance, both the classic trope of the apotheosized foreigner and the related motif of the foreigner’s reluctance to [End Page 406] play the god-role (see figure 2). It is worth noting, however, that while C-3PO may be unwilling to exploit the Ewoks’ misperception, Luke Skywalker is not; he uses the “Force” to convince the Ewoks of the robot’s magical prowess and, more to the point, to perpetuate their misapprehension. 5What I wish to suggest in this essay is that certain habitual Western assumptions or conceits regarding cross-cultural encounters—assumptions which have been usefully termed “myth models” inasmuch as they condition human perception and find frequent discursive expression—coexist easily but in fact disjunctively with certain other ideological structures in many early modern travel narratives and colonial accounts. Obeyesekere, in his provocative book on the supposed deification of Captain Cook in Hawaii, has linked such myth models to the conceptual structures of the longue durée as characterized by Fernand Braudel, and it is possible that they may also be... (shrink)

Are good and evil a “point of view”? Do Jedi and Sith alike merely crave greater power? What does a “space opera” have to teach us about how to live virtuously? George Lucas created Star Wars as a modern-day morality tale, modeled on classical epics, such as Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, tragic dramas written by the likes of Sophocles, Seneca, and Shakespeare, and the scriptures that inspire religions in the East and West. This chapter canvasses the metaphysical and moral themes (...) across the three trilogies that make up the “Skywalker saga” to construct a genealogy of how “the Force” evolved throughout these films. At the heart of this conceptual development is the question of how the light and dark sides of the Force are related to each other and what that relationship can help us understand about the nature of good and evil in our own experience. (shrink)

This chapter examines Padme's portrayal in Revenge of the Sith (ROTS) through feminist philosophy, looking into the ways her character changed over the prequel trilogy. It explores how Padme's pregnancy influenced her storyline, and employs feminist theories that study motherhood in regard to both the pregnant individual and social structures. The chapter explains the abusive nature of Padme's relationship with Anakin, discussing how his anger and jealously contributed to her death. Padme's story in ROTS's theatrical cut is marked primarily (...) by her abusive relationship with Anakin, whose anger is often directed against her. When she becomes pregnant, the story focuses more on her stereotypical role as a mother‐to‐be and less on her heroic deeds that contribute to the creation of the Rebel Alliance. Nowadays, the #MeToo movement stresses the need for inclusive representation in the film industry, and the Star Wars saga is no exception. (shrink)