“Why does anyone read fiction, if none of it is even real?” A family member asked me that question years ago, and at the time I did not really have a good answer. If I were to answer them now, I’d tell them how real that I’ve learned fiction can be. From Flannery O’Connor’s A Good Man is Hard to Find, to Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, to Lorraine Hansberry’s A Raisin in the Sun, these classic and ostensibly fictitious writings can at times hold so much truth and relevance for our lives that it is unsettling. Fiction provides commentary on the human predicament, or in the words of my first college English professor, “fiction dares us to ask what it means to be human.” Through metaphors, allegory, and symbolism, fiction artistically recreates reality to reveal deeper truths about the world in which we live in a way that dry works of non-fiction never could. As a play director once told me, the goal of artists everywhere – including fiction authors – is to “say something about something that means something to them.” Now that might sound like a whole lot of something (or, ironically, a whole lot of nothing), but let me illustrate with a poignant, if unexpected, case: Star Wars.

With pointy lazer swords, talking droids, and clumsy characters like Jar-Jar Binx, it may seem laughable to suggest that Star Wars has anything to tell us about the human predicament. After all, half the characters are more alien than human, so what could they possibly tell us about the problems of humanity? As it turns out, Star Wars has quite a bit to say about what it means to be human, and a careful analysis reveals critical commentary about the predicaments of determinism, choice, and fate.

Star Wars is a broad fictional universe, spawning no less than 170 novels, 100 games, 15 TV shows, and 11 films. Regardless of the medium, however, one question takes centerstage: Are we free to act as we will in the world, or are our actions predetermined by forces – no pun intended – that are outside of our control. This is the claim that I will defend throughout the rest of this article, and while I will draw on a range of Star Wars materials to make this argument, I would assert that one need look no further than the popular nine core films of the Star Wars canon to see the repetition of this theme.

Anakin hanging out with his alien friend

Consider this: You’re Anakin’s green friend here, and you’ve been living in the Star Wars universe for all of your (short) life. Assuming you live for roughly forty years, here is what you will have witnessed: the initiation of the Clone Wars by the Confederation of Independent Systems (CIS) and their droid army, the cessation and reconquest of thousands of star systems during the war, the transformation of the Galactic Republic into the First Galactic Empire at the hands of Chancellor Palpatine, and the formation and destruction of a galaxy-spanning super-weapon capable of destroying entire planets (the Death Star). Now I don’t know about you – but if all of that happened in my galaxy by the time I was forty, I would have seriously been questioning whether or not I was in a simulation. Why? Because even though ceaseless, unremitting galactic conquests and political turmoil make for interesting and dramatic entertainment in our movie theaters, they are nothing short of madness for the characters living through these events.

And the madness only repeats itself. Consider how many times the main characters in Star Wars must blow up a Death Star-esque super-weapon: it is destroyed for the first time in Episode IV only to be rebuilt and destroyed again in Episode VI. Then, in Episode VII, the First Order reinvents the wheel with Starkiller Base, which similarly has the power to destroy planets and is summarily destroyed. Looking into the expanded universe, the pattern continues with the Star Forge and Malachor V from the Knights of the Old Republic (KOTOR) series, both of which threatened the galaxy and were obliterated by protagonists in similar fashion. Regardless of the time period that a character exists in the Star Wars universe: they are at constant risk and embroiled in galaxy-wide conflict that only repeats itself again, and again, and again.

Three examples of Star Wars re-using the central plot to make a point: the Death Star (left), the Star Forge (center), Starkiller Base (right)

So why does Star Wars exhibit such unremitting conflict? After all, it’s not like it’s impossible to make an interesting space-adventure movie without also embroiling the entire galaxy in conflict the exact same way every time. The fact that the franchise chooses such a path points to a larger artistic message: the characters in the Star Wars universe are utterly helpless to make meaningful choices about the fate of their galaxy. And this theme does not only apply on a galactic level: individuals in Star Wars – even ostensibly powerful characters like Anakin Skywalker, Yoda, Mace Windu, and the Emperor – are found to be incapable of shaping both galactic events and their own lives in accordance with their will.

Take, for instance, the case of Anakin Skywalker. At the climax of his character development in Episode III, he must decide whether to walk the path of the light or dark – represented by the choice of stopping Mace Windu from arresting Chancellor Palpatine. His driving motivation is a very human one: he desires the power to save his wife from dying in childbirth. Yet, in spite (or potentially even because) of his choice to pursue the power of the dark side in order to protect Padme, she dies. If he had done nothing and not even tried to gain power to save her, there is similarly little reason to believe that Anakin’s visions of Padme’s death in childbirth would not have come true. Thus, despite Anakin having extremely strong force of will, he still could not affect change in his life. Instead, he is treated as a tool by both the Jedi and Sith, and he ends up spending the latter part of his life as Darth Vader inside a cold, hard, empty shell. This ark of exploitation is repeated in the expanded universe by Darth Revan from the KOTOR series, who is also a powerful character that is exploited by ideological factions to wage galactic conquest. Rather than being independent agents of change within their fictional universes, Star Wars characters are portrayed as being utterly helpless tools for ideological factions to wage repetitive conflicts.

Regardless of whether these individuals are fighting for the “light” or the “dark,” they remain incapable of pursuing their own individual interests. In Anakin’s case, this means being trapped by his role as “the chosen one.” Ancient prophecies had foretold that Anakin would be the one to bring balance to the Force, and it represents the key constraint around his character’s personal goals and ambitions. As a kid, Anakin wanted to become a Jedi hero, capable of saving his mother and freeing the slaves of Tatooine. In the end, he fell to the dark side, was unable to save his mother, and brought more harm to the galaxy in his service to the Empire – what a cruel twist. Nonetheless, this ark is perfectly aligned to the grand theme of individuals being powerless over their fates. Anakin was destined to be the Chosen One, and regardless of how simple of a human life he wanted to live, it simply would not be.

Yoda, Windu, Skywalker, and Plagueis all represent characters incapable of enacting their will on the galaxy or making change in their lives due to the constraining nature of the Force.

But comic-books and movies are full of characters who reject their identity at first, so what makes it a central theme in Star Wars? The answer is because the attempts of characters to reject Anakin’s role as the Chosen One are not merely tangential to the Star Wars plot, they are central to it. In Episode III, Yoda and Mace Windu both seem skeptical that Anakin was the one the ancient prophecy spoke of. Both Masters were wary as Anakin gained status on the Jedi Council as the Chancellor’s personal representative, and they were reluctant to assign any official duties or titles to the unpredictable Jedi. For that matter, they did not even want to see him trained as a Jedi in the first place! Nonetheless, despite the political power of the highest Jedi Masters, Anakin was trained, he was placed on the council, and he played a key role in both the Clone Wars and in the Jedi’s attempt to arrest the Supreme Chancellor. Try as they did, even Jedi Masters Yoda and Windu were unable to control the fate of the Jedi Order.

And this inability to act not only applies to the Jedi. Plagueis the Wise, the Sith Lord responsible for training Palpatine, also attempted to sway galactic events to his favor. In the novel Darth Plagueis by James Luceno, Plagueis sets out with a grand scheme to control the galaxy, but he also pursues a personal quest for immortality. Towards the first end, Plagueis originally finds great success in fomenting a network of political contacts and establishing his apprentice, Palpatine, as a key figure in the Galactic Senate. He positions the CIS to present conflict for the Republic, and lays the groundwork for the Clone Wars years before the Jedi even knew the Sith were still a threat to their power. Ironically, this success would be foiled by his secondary goal of achieving immortality – control over death. As a master in the dark side of the Force, Plagueis believed he could manipulate the midichlorians – symbiotic microscopic lifeforms that catalyzed an individual’s connection with the Force – in himself to sustain his life. Through multiple experiments on test subjects, Plagueis eventually succeeds in bringing one of his recently deceased foes back to life. Ironically, however, by some sheer twist of fate, it is later revealed to Plagueis that on the same day as his revelation, Anakin Skywalker was miraculously conceived. As Anakin’s mother would later note in Episode I when the Jedi inquire of his birth: “There was no father.” As the Chosen One, Anakin would one day be the undoing of the Sith Empire, but not before he helped to create it.

It seems wholly unreasonable to argue that such an occurrence was a mere coincidence. But if luck cannot explain Anakin’s birth or his role as the Chosen One, then what is the cause? We know it certainly is not because of his own will: the characters of Star Wars are utterly helpless in the schemes that they are situated in. Ah, and therein lies the answer. The Force itself shapes the events of the Star Wars universe with the goal of achieving balance – the eventual result of the prophecy and Anakin’s ultimate destiny as a character. To reach this goal, however, requires the total eradication of every characters’ personal aspirations. This is seen repeatedly. Anakin did not save Padme or his mother, but he ushered in a period of darkness and ultimately ended it, restoring balance. Plagueis never gained immortality or political fame, but he laid the groundwork for Palpatine, catalyzed the rise of the Sith, and set in motion the birth of Anakin Skywalker (who represents the ultimate downfall of Plagueis’ work). This again echoes the Force’s goal of balance. And how else can we explain the re-used plots of destroying a galactic super-weapon three times over (at least)? The Force repeatedly strengthens the Jedi and the Sith to create balance in the universe at the cost of the free will of all characters involved.

So what does all of this tell us, the audience? What point are the artists behind Star Wars trying to convey? Ultimately, Star Wars is a deterministic universe where people – regardless of the purity of their intentions or their power to achieve them – are pushed and pulled as if small boats on an ocean, drifting in whichever way the all powerful winds blow. They are manipulated as if pawns in a game of Dejarik (oops, I mean chess), and they are helpless to prevent the recurring struggles between Jedi and Sith. The Force is portrayed as being all-powerful, sculpting all important events of the galaxy to achieve its will through balance. The resulting message to the audience becomes clear: despite feeling as though we have ultimate control over our lives, and perhaps thinking that we can craft change through altruistic idealism (like the Jedi) or selfishly seeking power (like the Sith), the masterminds behind Star Wars posit that we are quite small in the grand scheme of things, and our potential to make change is limited by forces outside of our control.

With these points established, much is left unsaid about the ‘Force’ as a metaphor in Star Wars. If it is portrayed as being the real determinant of galactic events and characters’ destinies, then what precisely are the writers of Star Wars trying to tell us? The answer lies at the heart of the corruptive nature of both ideology and power, and it deserves to be expounded on. Alas, I have already written enough for one evening, and thus, in the style of JJ Abrams, I must say that it is a good question, for another time. [To be continued . . .]