Charles C. Camosy
Those of us who are fans of both Kevin Smith and Star Wars have been treated to several delicious references to a galaxy far, far away in his movies. From giving one of his films a Star Wars–esque title (Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back), to creating bar scenes explicitly inspired by the famous Mos Eisley cantina (Dogma), to writing Hooper X's devastating and hilarious response to the proposal that Lando Calrissian is a “strong black role model” (Chasing Amy), Smith's movies out their creator as a fellow Star Wars geek.1
But one particular Star Wars reference stands above the rest. In Clerks, Randal and Dante discuss whether it was immoral for the Rebel Alliance to attack and destroy Death Star II in Return of the Jedi. Noting that the unfinished space station likely had “independent contractors working on that thing,” Randal argues that they were “casualties of a war they had nothing to do with.” After all, these workers are likely “just trying to scrape out a living” and were “innocent victims” of “left wing militants.” A local roofer overhears Randal's argument and claims that contractors have to consider their personal ethics and politics when taking a job. He once refused to take a job from well-known gangster, and, wouldn't you know it, the contractor who took the job was killed during a hit from a rival gang. Moral of the story: let your most deeply held values and instinct for self-preservation guide the decision to take a contracting job, not your wallet.
This brilliant and rich scene presents several important philosophical questions.2 At bottom, Smith's concern is a question for moral philosophy: “Was the Rebel attack on Death Star II immoral?” Since the attack appears to have killed so many innocent people, maybe it's even fair to call it an act of terrorism. Several related questions also present themselves. What does it mean to be innocent? Was helping to build the Death Star morally blameworthy? Even if the Rebel attack wasn't terrorism, it could still be seriously immoral. Was the damage caused by the Death Star's destruction proportionate with the good that was gained?
Especially for Star Wars fans who identify deeply with the Rebels, the idea that the destruction of Death Star II might be terrorism could be jolting. In responding to Smith's challenge, the first thing we need is a definition of terrorism. In public discussions, terrorism is often used simply as a rhetorical device to paint one's enemies, making them seem like barbarians lacking basic decency or humanity. As philosophers, though, we need to be more precise with our definition, and then apply it consistently in each and every case we encounter, regardless of our politics or other interests.
Terrorism means something only within a specific way of thinking about right and wrong, or, more generally, an ethical theory or framework. One very popular and powerful ethical framework is utilitarianism, which views the moral life as about producing the greatest good for the greatest number, maximizing pleasure over pain or happiness over unhappiness.3 For a utilitarian, moral rules exist as merely “rules of thumb” that generally work to produce the best consequences. Because utilitarians generally do not recognize exceptionless rules, they would simply ask us to consider whether killing the innocent – in the long run and overall – is likely to produce good consequences. So although he didn't kill Han and Leia, Lando Calrissian seemed to be thinking in utilitarian terms when he made a deal to betray the Rebels to the Empire in return for freedom and security for the inhabitants of Cloud City.4
But most thinkers espousing “just war theory” reject the utilitarian view.5 Using rule-based ethical frameworks, they argue that certain actions are so horrific, so thoroughly at odds with what's right, that they can never be done under any circumstances. Acts like torture, forcing prisoners to fight against their own side, using weapons of mass destruction, and gang rape would be considered “intrinsically evil acts.” Just war theorists think that utilitarians are mistaken in holding that the only important moral consideration is whether an act ultimately produces good consequences. Instead, we should follow exceptionless moral rules against doing such evil things – even when doing so might give us a substantial advantage. Vader's torture of Han in Cloud City, or the building of a Death Star (which, of its very nature, is a weapon of mass destruction), may have produced significant benefits – such as bringing order to an unruly galaxy – but most just war theorists would reject both as intrinsically evil.
Just war theory also prohibits the killing of innocent noncombatants: any intentional targeting of innocents is to be considered a terrorist act. Indeed, it is only from within this kind of rule-based theory that terrorism makes any sense as a concept. Terrorism violates the exceptionless moral rule forbidding the intentional targeting of innocent people, as becomes clear if we examine the destruction of Death Star II within a just war ethical framework.
But hold on a minute. Let's take some time to discuss this in committee. Aren't innocents killed in every major conflict? If we called it terrorism every time an innocent person is killed in war, wouldn't virtually every player in virtually every conflict around the world be considered a terrorist group? This important question can be answered by thinking more carefully and precisely about what targeting means in our original definition of terrorism.
In 2004, an al Qaeda–inspired group, apparently in an attempt to influence Spanish national elections three days hence, set off ten bombs in four trains during the peak of rush hour in Madrid. They killed almost 200 innocent people and wounded almost 2000. By almost everyone's account, this was a brutal and horrific act that deserved to be called terrorism.
But suppose someone defends the bombers by using the ethical framework from the last section. Simply because noncombatants are killed in war doesn't mean that such an act is terrorism. Suppose they argue that the government of Spain, as a supporter of the war on al Qaeda in Iraq, was a legitimate military target. The ultimate end or goal of the attack was to get this government out of office, and the civilian deaths, while regrettable, were just collateral damage – just as in a situation of all-out war.
But terrorists almost never have the death of civilians as their ultimate goal. What makes terrorists deserve near-universal condemnation is that they intentionally use the death of the innocent as a means to accomplish what they are really after. Consider Grand Moff Tarkin's decision to obliterate millions of innocent people by destroying Alderaan. While his ultimate goal was to deter other systems from rebelling against the Empire (“No star system will dare oppose the Emperor now”), the means by which he accomplished this goal meant the death of millions of innocent people. This clearly makes it a terrorist act.
As I wrote these pages, I was regularly confronted by the terrible news reports of the death of innocent Palestinian civilians in Israel's latest conflict with Hamas. Some reports describe Israeli attacks as terrorism. While their military response to Hamas' attack may be disproportionate (as we'll discuss further in this chapter), and therefore seriously wrong, it's a mistake to think of Israel's response as terrorism. But why isn't this just the bias of a pro-Israel view? It is true that the Madrid bombers, Tarkin, and the Israeli military all engaged in acts that led to the death of civilians. But while they all produced the same outcome, there's more to consider than just which consequences were produced. If we accept terrorism as a moral category of action, we also need to think about how the consequences were produced. Israel used TV and radio broadcasts, telephone calls, text messages, and even leaflets to warn innocent civilians to leave the areas that would be attacked.6 Their stated goal was to destroy Hamas' offensive capability, and the death of civilians was not intended at all. Far from targeting them, Israel tried to get innocent civilians to leave the areas they were planning to attack.
Not so with the Madrid bombers. They used the death of the innocent civilians as the means of achieving their objectives. They targeted innocent people for death, and that makes them terrorists. In helping my students figure out whether innocents were targeted in any given situation, I've given them a tool that they playfully call the Camosy pissed test. I ask them to do a thought experiment in which innocents were not killed in the attack and then imagine whether the person or group acting would be “pleased or pissed” that no innocent people were killed. If the Madrid bombings had killed no one, it is clear the bombers would have felt that their purpose wasn't accomplished. This is because the death of civilians was the means by which the bombers were attempting to resist the Spanish government's support of the Iraq war.
The same is true of Tarkin's use of the Death Star to destroy Alderaan. At first, it seems like he's simply threatening the planet's destruction to force Princess Leia to reveal the location of the hidden Rebel base. Once Leia appears to “break” and reveals the location as Dantooine, Tarkin should've ceased operations and either sent his scout ships to Dantooine or found a different way to persuade Leia. Instead, he orders his men to “continue with the operation” and “fire when ready.” When Leia protests, he responds with glee, “You're far too trusting. Dantooine is too remote to make an effective demonstration. But don't worry, we'll deal with your Rebel friends soon enough.” The truth is that Tarkin has two goals: leveraging the princess and instilling terror in the minds of any planets that may oppose the Empire. Having apparently succeeded in the first goal with the mere threat of destroying Alderaan, only its actual destruction would accomplish the second goal. This makes Tarkin a terrorist.
What about Israel? Suppose their bombings killed no Palestinian civilians. They would have felt as though their information campaign to clear the area was successful. Not only did killing the innocent have nothing to do with achieving their ultimate goal of destroying Hamas' offensive capability, but each time such killing happens, it actually damages their goal by turning the opinion of their allies (and indeed most of the world) against them.
But suppose our imagined defender of the Madrid bombers protested this view by noting that plenty of attacks by Western militaries target civilians as well but don't get slapped with the terrorism label. One classic example might be the United States' bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki – which killed tens of thousands of innocent people, including thousands of infants and very young children. The United States clearly targeted civilians in an attempt to break the will of the Japanese leadership with the ultimate goal of producing their unconditional surrender. If we apply our definition consistently, we are forced to admit that this is another (particularly atrocious) act of terrorism.
But many defend the US decision – and the defense often goes something like this: “Okay, killing innocent people is generally a very bad thing, but how many millions of Japanese and American soldiers would have had to die in order to conquer Japan through a traditional ground invasion? Isn't that worse? Isn't the death of thousands preferable to the death of many millions?” But notice that this is utilitarian reasoning. By saying that something is terrorism, we are saying that nothing justifies it, no matter how good. Intentionally targeting the innocent is never justified, no matter the consequences.
We are now ready to return to the destruction of Death Star II: was it a terrorist act? The station itself is clearly a legitimate military target. Indeed, if the Empire's use of the previous station against Alderaan is any guide, the new one would also have been used to kill many billions of innocent civilians. But remember that the space station, though operational, was still under construction at the time it was destroyed. Kevin Smith's brilliant Clerks scene asks us to consider the innocent workers who were killed in the attack. Was the Rebel attack another example of terrorism?
Absolutely not, and the reason should now be clear. While the Rebels foresaw the death of the innocent contractors, they did not intentionally target them. Their deaths were not the means by which the Alliance accomplished its goals of destroying the station, killing the Emperor, and ultimately ending the war. Indeed, when we apply the Camosy pissed test, we see that the Rebels would've been quite happy if, on the day of the Battle of Endor, all the innocent people on board took the day off to go hiking somewhere on the forest moon. The Rebel attack, through it resulted in the death of innocent people, did not intentionally target them. It was not a terrorist act.
Okay, it wasn't terrorism – but so what? All this means is that the Rebel attack didn't violate an exceptionless moral rule. The horrific evil of killing the innocent – though not intended – could still be morally wrong because this evil is disproportionate to the good that might come out of it. If true, this would still make the act very seriously wrong. I suspect this concern is what many have in mind when they criticize Israel's killing of innocent Palestinians in their bombing of Hamas targets. At a certain point, doesn't the evil of so many civilian deaths become disproportionate to the good to be gained by more attacks? Israel's attacks on Hamas have killed many, many innocent civilians, and the destruction of Death Star II caused the death of many, many innocent workers.
But were they innocent? The workers building Death Star II are different from the innocents of Gaza, Hiroshima, Alderaan, and Madrid in that these workers were actively contributing to the evil intention and military goals of the enemy. Returning to the roofer's point in Clerks, shouldn't we say that the Death Star's workers were blameworthy for deciding to work for such an evil organization? Doesn't this make them something less than innocent?
In order to respond to these important questions, we need to know who was actually doing the work of building the new space station. The first Death Star was built while in orbit around the prison planet Despayre. Prisoners from this planet (many of whom, given the Empire's history, were likely innocent) – along with a “veritable army” of Wookiees – were used as slave labor in building the first space station.7 But it turned out that these slaves weren't efficient workers, not least because they would revolt from time to time. We have less evidence of who built Death Star II, but given that it was much larger and built much more quickly, it is likely that the Empire rejected slave labor in favor of different and faster techniques. This suggests that much of the work was being done by droids – but recall Moff Jerjerrod's response to Darth Vader when confronted about construction being behind schedule. He says, tellingly, “I need more men.” Especially because it included quarters for humanoid “shell construction crews,”8 it seems likely that both people and droids built the second Death Star.
But which people? Xizor Transport Systems appears to have been involved,9 but these were just the crews ferrying materials to the job site. What kind of humanoids made up the actual construction crews? Given that the Emperor put construction plans on such a strict schedule (necessary for the battle station to be “fully armed and operational” in time for the Rebel attack), he probably wouldn't have trusted outside contractors with such an important task. What options are left? There seem to be two: (1) graduates of the volunteer Imperial Academy and (2) clones. It is likely there were some of each on the station, but given the special military training that academy graduates received, it makes sense that the Empire would prefer to make use of them in actual military situations. Perhaps a few graduates of the Imperial Academy's engineering or project management programs were on board when Death Star II was destroyed, but the vast majority of “men” to which Jerjerrod refers were probably clones.
Were these workers innocent? Graduates of the Imperial Academy volunteer their service and would therefore have not been innocent. But they probably made up a very small percentage of the total number of workers. There were probably some people working for Xizor Transport Systems in the blast area as well. Did these workers make a free choice to work for the Empire? It's difficult to say. Probably some workers did have a choice, while the ruthless Prince Xizor coerced others.10 In any event, these deaths also would have been a small percentage of the total number of workers. The overwhelming majority would have been clones and droids.
Do clones count as “innocent people” as we are using the term? Does it make sense even to call them “people” in the first place? I would argue that they most certainly count. Essentially, each of them is an identical twin of Jango Fett, and much like other identical twins, each clone has his own personality and other distinctive characteristics, as evidenced by key troopers such as Captain Rex and Commander Cody in The Clone Wars and Revenge of the Sith.11
What about droids? Could a machine really be a person? This is a deep philosophical question that we can't take on here.12 We can note, though, that the Star Wars galaxy is one of the best places to encounter beings who, despite being very different from us, are nevertheless persons. Jabba the Hutt, Boss Nass, Chewbacca, Watto, and many other strange aliens all have something recognizably “personal” about them.
But what exactly makes them all persons? This is a hotly contested question in moral philosophy. One common answer is something like self-awareness. Each of these alien beings has an intelligent mind, capable of recognizing the fact that it exists. This gives them the capacity to value their own lives, which in turn gives them moral status. Indeed, if we were to kill them, they would be deprived of a life they value and would prefer to continue living.
Could droids have self-awareness? There seems to be no reason in principle why they couldn't. The aliens just mentioned are also machines, that is, organic machines. Is there any reason why non-organic machines couldn't also be persons? In the Star Wars galaxy, most droids appear to have self-aware intelligence, and upon reflection, maybe it isn't an outlandish view to consider them persons. Most people who watch R2-D2 and C-3PO know intuitively that they share something in common with, say, Luke and Chewie, that makes all four of them persons.13
Assuming that they are persons, we can ask whether clones and droids working on Death Star II were innocent persons. What was their level of moral responsibility? It seems obvious that droid workers – having been built and programmed to behave in certain ways, along with being limited by restraining bolts – were forced labor and not morally responsible for their actions. Indeed, though there was a Droid Abolitionist Movement led by those who argued that droids had rights and should be free to determine their own destiny,14 most of the galaxy simply thinks of droids as slaves to be used as mere tools or objects. The droids working on the Death Star II during the Battle of Endor had no freedom and were therefore were not morally responsible for helping to construct a terrorist weapon of mass destruction.
But what about the clones? They had a bit of freedom under the command of the Jedi during the Old Republic, but under the command of the Emperor they had virtually none. Conceived, born, and raised simply to serve the Empire – essentially “programmed” to obey orders such as Order 66 to kill their Jedi generals with no reason given – they were essentially conscripted soldiers with no choice in the matter. Like the construction droids who were also destroyed that day, they died as slaves who had no choice to be anywhere else.
The Rebel attack did not aim at the death of innocent people, so it wasn't terrorism. But in determining whether the attack was morally justified, we still need to ask whether the Alliance had a serious enough reason for engaging in an attack that they foresaw would kill many, many innocent persons if successful. Just how many? Boasting a diameter of over a hundred miles, and a total population of two million humanoids, the completed Death Star II would have been simply enormous. Can we use these facts to make a broad estimate as to how many innocent clones and droids would have been onboard working on the station when it blew? Especially, given the fact that most of the droids were likely significantly smaller than hominoids (with no quarters for sleep and other off-duty activities), and how quickly the station was being built, I think we can safely say “millions.”
What kind of good must be achieved to justify a military attack that, even if unintentionally, kills millions of innocent persons? If the Alliance had killed this many innocents in attacking, say, a single Star Destroyer, we would without hesitation conclude that the attack was immoral. Eliminating a Star Destroyer may be a legitimate military objective, but the relatively minor good achieved is out of proportion with the monstrous consequences produced.
The destruction of Death Star II is a very different situation. This station was built to avoid the vulnerabilities of the first Death Star and, once complete, would have wrought untold havoc. In addition to destroying many planets and intentionally killing many billions of innocent people, it would have easily defeated the Rebellion and assured the Empire of an indefinite stranglehold on the galaxy. But its destruction, along with the death of the Emperor himself, saved many billions of lives. The defeat of the Empire brought with it a new era of peace and justice, defended by a New Republic and the return of the Jedi order – at least until the Yuuzhan Vong showed up. Given these kinds of circumstances, the good achieved seems proportional to the evil produced; thus, we should conclude that the Rebel attack on Death Star II was not morally wrong.
Despite having a deep love for Star Wars, and having watched Jedi many, many times, I include myself among the fans who failed to ask the central question of this chapter. From the opening scenes of A New Hope, the “culture” of Star Wars conditions us to root for the Rebels. Looking at the movies through this lens can blind us to the questionable decisions of those we are told are the “good guys.” The ability to challenge the dominant cultural lens through which most of us look at the world and ask critical questions of our own “side” is as rare today as it is important. Kevin Smith repeatedly challenges versions of the stories we're culturally conditioned to accept.15 This is especially important if we care about protecting many innocent and vulnerable people who are ignored and even killed in the name of peace and justice, even it's to “restore freedom to the galaxy.”