I’ve seen Star Wars so many times that sometimes my mind glosses over its deeper themes. Like how the story is inherently antifascist.
It’s easy to point to Andor as when Star Wars got radical, but all that fighting authoritarianism, the crackdowns on personal freedoms, and what would motivate a bystander to join a rebellion have been part of the franchise from the jump. The opening crawl of A New Hope comes out and describes an evil Galactic Empire pitted against a princess who hopes to “save her
people and restore freedom to the galaxy.” Yes, it’s typical pulpy adventure narratives, but it immediately positions the central conflict as freedom against imperialist oppression. In 1977, with the United States’ involvement in Vietnam only recently ended and the United States and the Soviet Union both in possession of apocalyptic weapons and a desire for global influence, this is hardly academic.
Ten minutes into the movie and Darth Vader confronts Princess Leia, throwing aside her invocations of senatorial retribution as he labels her a traitor. If we take away the heightened imagery of Vader and a Princess, what’s left behind is a military officer (or, military adjacent? Vader’s actual rank in the Imperial Military is a whole thing) threatening — and imprisoning! — a politician. When an officer suggests that doing so would garner sympathy for the Rebellion in the Senate, Vader brushes him aside and moves on. This is a government that acts without worry of retribution or resistance.
It’s not long before we find out that the Emperor has dissolved the Senate entirely, removing any concern of the Death Star’s threat garnering legislative support for the nascent resistance movement. General Tagge is immediately worried about political control and asks “how will the emperor maintain control without the bureaucracy?” Grand Moff Tarkin brushes him aside: “Fear will keep the local systems in line- fear of this battle station.”1
Happening just off-screen is the final discarding of democratic norms. Where the Emperor once used the machinations of the political systems to maintain control, now he wields the fear of instant annihilation. Fight back against a totalitarian regime and you will be destroyed. Indeed, not long after this we see that very weapon turned against Alderaan, a peaceful planet, as retribution for Princess Leia’s resistance (which, incidentally, is considered a war crime).
So what recourse is there? A farmboy who dreams of leaving his backwater planet asks his uncle to let him leave and join the Imperial Academy, thinking that joining the Empire is his only way off Tatooine. Even after R2-D2 arrives and Obi-Wan behooves him to seek the Rebellion he’s still hesitant — right until the government murders his aunt and uncle. It’s this act of state violence that finally pushes Luke Skywalker to join the Rebellion. He can’t sit by anymore. And we know what happens next.
Fascism in Star Wars isn’t just a vague idea in its setting, it’s a very present threat and system that motivates (and, in fact, demands) resistance. In Empire we see how a tightening fist means that even neutral city-states like Cloud City aren’t immune. By the time of Jedi, the Empire’s need for control has led to it building another Death Star — this time to actively wipe out the Rebellion and not just threaten dissenters with destruction. The prequels are about the rise of fascism, as a galaxy at peace finds itself in a war that a tyrant uses to seize absolute power.2 The sequels see a government refusing to take action against a rising fascist threat.
Dig around and you’ll find other fairly radical ideas woven into the Star Wars universe, from demilitarization in the new canon to the saga’s anti-capitalist bent. It’s all disguised with laser swords and space battles, but beneath it is the very real threat of fascism. So too is the appropriate response to fascism: Fighting it. Star Wars knows that all those fictional fascists, just like the ones in real life, are bound to lose. The Death Star(s) will be destroyed, the Emperor overthrown, the First Order crushed.
- The first part of Tarkin’s response, “The regional governors now have direct control over their territories,” is worth commenting on too. The political system implied here is that while the common population used to have ostensible representation through the Senate, now they are ruled by governors with direct – and absolute — power. Gone is the illusion of a popular voice, here now is total control by the Emperor’s loyal. ↩︎
- The prequels aren’t the most elegant of stories, but the thread of an authoritarian rise facilitated by the masses remains very strong, albeit underdeveloped. Nonetheless, Padmé’s remark about democracy dying to thunderous applause in particular feels so very astute today. ↩︎
Essays, Not Rants! 