One Way Out

Andor and Democratic Violence

By Richard Neve

At the beginning of both Rogue One and Andor, our titular hero Cassian Andor, murders someone in cold blood. In Andor he kills two corporate security guards to avoid being arrested. The first may have been an accident but the second is definitely intentional. In Rogue One, Cassian kills an ally to ensure that they cannot be interrogated by rapidly arriving Imperial forces. The intimacy of Cassian’s violence feels shocking, even in a cinematic universe in which we celebrate the destruction of three separate superweapons crewed by millions of people. Why do we legitimize such acts of violence, both intimate and massive? In the language of political theory, how can any acts of violence against other humans be deemed legitimate? In the case of Cassian we not only legitimate his actions but also sympathize with him as a hero of the rebellion. While much of the Star Wars cannon glosses over the legitimacy of violence, Andor places us squarely in the moral quandary that is violent resistance to authoritarianism.

Andor tells the story of Cassian Andor, from his life as a small-time thief on a working-class planet to hardened, effective, committed operative of the Rebel Alliance. Over twelve episodes we see Cassian flee environmental destruction, evade corporate police, conduct an elaborate heist, escape brutal incarceration, quietly funnel money to militants, and rise up against the Empire alongside a community quietly built with mutual aid and solidarity. We, as the audience, witness in intimate detail the path of Cassian’s political consciousness, his radicalization. Moreover, Cassian Andor’s personal journey stages a conflict between the systemic violence of the Empire and the liberatory, democratic violence of the Rebellion.

Systemic Violence

Exactly why the Empire is so evil has not always been self-evident. As Kempshall points out in his recent book The History and Politics of Star Wars, Luke hates the Empire but it’s never made clear “what aspects he finds most objectionable.” “The Empire was defined by militarism and fascist symbiology rather than through overt fascist political tactics” (31-32). Recent additions to the Star Wars cannon help answer this question. Andor, in particular, depicts the Empire as an efficient bureaucracy operating through the ruthless application of systemic violence. According to Stephen D’Arcy, systemic violence “consists of grave harms that victimize vulnerable people… such as poverty, poor health, human rights violations, racially motivated incarcerations, and substantially reduced life expectancy… these effects are achieved with social structures instead of weapons, but they are not for this reason any less violent” (167). Andor shows us a terrifyingly wide array of examples of systemic violence perpetrated by the Empire, not seen in previous films or TV shows.

Many commentators have pointed out that Andor feels more gritty, more grown up than other recent Star Wars offerings. It accomplishes this by depicting a terrifying array of systemic violence. The narrative drama of each arc portrayed in season one is driven in large part by systemic violence. Each arc of the show depicts the sheer extent and variety of systemic violence utilized by the Empire. Environmental destruction on Kenari kills Cassian’s birth parents and separates him from his sister. On Ferrix we see a neglected community surviving through shipbreaking and mutual aid after Imperial trade lanes close. The visual comparison with Ferrix and the Chittagong ship breaking yard is striking. Indigenous people are removed from their land and barred from their most sacred site, an offense that seems to meet the definition of genocide under the International Genocide Convention. Cassian’s arrest, imprisonment, and use as forced labor absolutely mirror the prison-industrial complex as it exists in the United States. In intimate moments we see Mon Mothma afraid to speak openly in her own home, her husband Perrin socializing with friends who kill millions by closing down trade routes, and bureaucrats casually discussing detention quotas in a conference room. The Empire operating as a ruthlessly efficient bureaucracy kills as many as a fully armed and fully operational Death Star.

As Nemik, theorist of the Rebellion tells us, “the pace of repression outpaces our ability to understand it…It’s easier to hide behind forty atrocities than a single incident. Nemik expresses a common sentiment felt by people all over the world today. In a world under siege from climate change, environmental destruction, the prison-industrial complex, global poverty and wealth inequality, the legacy of colonialism, and rising authoritarianism what are we to do? Systemic violence can seem all-encompassing, rigid, and impossible to resist. Social movements stall against the intransigence of legal and bureaucratic structures that sustain systemic violence.

Andor suggests a path forward. As Kino Loy tells his comrades during a heroic escape from an Imperial prison on Narkina 5, “There is one way out… you need to run, climb, kill… you need to help each other.” Star Wars has always depicted revolutionary, political violence in a positive light. We celebrate the destruction of both Death Stars, Star Killer Base, and the innumerable storm troopers dispatched along the way. Andor’s message is clear, there is only one way to defeat systemic violence—collective action and democratic violence. Everyone must be liberated. The violence used along the way can be justified. What strategies and tactics are we justified in using? What makes us so sure that Rebel forces act in ways that are morally, ethically, and politically legitimate?

Democratic Violence

As Stephen D’Arcy argues in his recent book Languages of the Unheard, systemic violence and more conventional forms of inflicting violence on vulnerable people are morally equivalent. From a moral or ethical standpoint it makes no difference if the Empire kills you with a blaster or works you to death in a labor camp for a crime you didn’t commit. You were irreparably harmed by forces that did not respect you as a dignified being. We generally consider violence in the service of self-defense as legitimate, and the Rebels commit acts of violence in self-defense. This assessment holds even for proactive measures, like the heist at Aldhani and the riot on Ferrix. Moral equivalency and acting in self-defense, however, do not release those who resist systemic violence from any and all constraints on their actions. Any use of violence must be morally, ethically, and democratically legitimate.

D’Arcy provides us with a guide for evaluating the extent to which acts of violence utilized by the rebels could potentially be judged legitimate, democratic. Initially we need to assess the conditions which might necessitate but also legitimate violence. These conditions are 1) the existence of systemic violence against large numbers of people, 2) using violence has a reasonable chance of success, and 3) the regime perpetrating systemic violence is either unwilling or unable to intervene to stop it. Certainly the Empire meets conditions 1 and 3. As detailed above, the Empire commits horrific acts of genocidal systemic violence throughout the galaxy. It is also clear that no one in charge of the Empire, from the Emperor to Meero and even lowly corporate security flunky Syril Karn, can be reasoned with.  There will be no reasoning with the Empire, even those untouched by the Dark Side. But what about number two, the chance of success? Of course we know that the rebels will ultimately succeed. But none of them know it at the time. Jyn Erso reminds us in Rogue One that rebellions are built on hope, not a guarantee of success.

Does that mean that nothing the Rebels do can be judged legitimate? When assessing the methods of those struggling to free themselves from brutal systemic violence, D’Arcy argues, we should resist the urge to moralize at them, to condemn their actions before applying morality and judgment. Moral condemnation of methods we may find questionable or repugnant is unwarranted when we’re not the ones suffering.

Again, D’Arcy offers guidance for moral assessment of violence. He suggests a Democratic Standard which consists of a common view of armed resistance as well as four principles of soundness. The common view asserts that armed struggle is legitimate when violence is minimized as much as possible, when there exists no other means of defending oneself and as long as violence is not used indiscriminately or disproportionately. D’Arcy adds four principles of soundness to the common view. 1. Opportunity—armed struggle should open up new avenues for addressing grievances. 2. Agency—any tactics should encourage those most affected by systemic violence to take the lead. 3. Autonomy—armed struggle should empower people to govern themselves without need for violence. 4. Accountability—any tactics or methods employed should be able to be defended publicly and with due regard for the principles as well as the common view.

Andor presents us with a challenging case study in democratic violence and armed resistance. This is particularly true of the requirement for accountability. When the story picks up, the Rebel Alliance has not yet formed. Anti-Imperial factions operate throughout the galaxy but they have not yet joined forces. At the center of that project sits Luthen Rael, the character whose actions most directly call out for moral assessment.

Luthen Rael’s actions push the limits of both D’Arcy’s common view of democratic violence as well as the four principles of soundness. Perhaps none more so than the deliberate escalation of systemic violence. Rael organizes a daring heist of Imperial credits to fund Rebel operations. He knows that the Empire will react by increasing systemic violence and repression. He tells his close ally Mon Mothma as much:

Mon Mothma: You realize what you’ve set in motion?

Luthen: It’s time for that as well.

Mon Mothma: Palpatine won’t hesitate now.

Luthen: Exactly! We need it, we need the fear, we need them to overreact.

Mon Mothma: You can’t be serious.

Luthen: The Empire has been choking us so slowly we’re starting not to notice. The time has come to force their hand.

Mon Mothma: People will suffer.

Luthen: That’s the plan. You’re not angry with me. I’m just saying out loud what you already know. There will be no rules going forward. If you’re not willing to risk your conscience then surrender and be done with it.

Rael also enacts more personal forms of violence. When Lonnie Jung, an Imperial Security Bureau Officer working as a double agent, tells Luthen he wants out Luthen responds by threatening Lonnie’s family. Whether or not Rael would actually harm Jung and his family does not matter. In threatening Jung, Rael wields the same kind of systemic violence used by the Empire. Then he uses information provided by Jung to sacrifice another militant leader and fifty rebels so that Jung’s cover isn’t blown.

Our moral quandary resides in the fact that we know Rael’s actions will ultimately grow the strength of the Rebels. His network constitutes a key foundation for the Rebel Alliance as a whole. But he is accountable to no one. When we see him provoke systemic violence, threaten allies, and sacrifice others without their even knowing about it, Rael cannot be held accountable because he cloaks his actions. His network, as he calls it, the network that will form the base of the Rebel Alliance, operates as a clandestine cell disconnected from a larger political organization. Rael intentionally shields his actions from accountability. We know that he must but, that need for secrecy cannot also excuse his actions from moral assessment.

Maarva Andor & Collective Action

Andor further complicates our assessment by connecting Rael’s actions to the people of Ferrix and in particular the work of Maarva Andor, Cassian’s mother and the former president of an organization called the Daughters of Ferrix. This organization, and the people of Ferrix, enact violence in the form of a riot that both meets D’Arcy’s standards for democratic violence and, crucially, builds a broad based political movement that seeks to overthrow the Empire. It constitutes the type of organization that could provide accountability for the actions of Luthen Rael.

The greatest weapon wielded by the rebels is not the Force, or X-Wings, or lightsabers. It is the people themselves. We judge Luthen’s methods as legitimate not because the raid on Aldhani was a success or because he formed an alliance with Saw Guerrera. He succeeded because he helped the people on Ferrix rise up. But in that awakening he played a questionable role. The real heart of the nascent Rebel Alliance was Maarva Andor. Her work with the Daughters of Ferrix, the bonds she must have helped that community form, and the speech she gave at her own funeral gave birth to the rebel alliance.

The goal and the method of militancy, D’Arcy argues, are one and the same, the autonomy of the people. Militant rebels like Luthen, Andor, and Saw Guerrera need to help the voiceless speak for themselves, fight back for themselves. The people living under the iron fist of the Empire cannot be liberated by small bands of guerillas; the people must rise up to liberate themselves. Militants may act as the tip of the spear of revolutionary movements but they must always be embedded within and accountable to those movements. In Andor, Luthen’s network operates as a series of clandestine cells. They decide for themselves what forms of violence are legitimate. As such they are not accountable to the people on whose behalf they fight.

We excuse Luthen’s actions as morally sound because they, in some small way, helped create the social movement that underpins the Rebel Alliance. The militants of the alliance could not succeed without that wider movement. Luke only gets to take a shot at the Death Star because the movement paved the way. They built the X-Wings, staffed communications centers, fended off Imperial surveillance, resisted in any way they could so that he could tip the scales with the little extra talent he had.

Andor tells us the story of the awakening of the people as the weapon against the Empire. In Cassian we see the personal narrative of radicalization. In the citizens of Ferrix we see the radicalization of the people as a revolutionary movement. Andor gives us so much time with them because it is their story, as much as Cassian’s, that needs to be told.

Richard Neve holds a Ph.D. in Normative Political Theory from the University of Westminster, London. He is currently a Visiting Professor of Political Science at California Lutheran University. In his younger days he dreamed of being a Jedi. But time and experience have taught him that rebellions are built on unglamorous labor as much as hope and sensitivity to the Force. Now he hopes to one day just be some guy in the background on Yavin, helping to do what needs to be done.

References

D’Arcy, Stephen. Languages of the Unheard: Why Militant Protest Is Good for Democracy. Zed Books. 2014.

Kempshall, Chris. The History and Politics of Star Wars: Death Stars and Democracy. Routledge. 2023