David LaRocca
“As you wish.” It's the quintessential response of a servant to his master, and in the case of the Dark Lord of the Galactic Empire, Darth Vader, it's the best thing to say when he gives an order. But what if the command is morally dubious? The virtues of service – loyalty, honor, discipline, ability – may give way quite readily in the face of a charge of moral turpitude. When the boss says kill, is obedience the only fitting reply? Perhaps it is for a soldier ranked in a chain of command, but what about an independent, freelance mercenary who is paid to follow orders? In what is principally an economic relationship, does the mercenary have more (or less) discretion when accepting assignments – especially if they're morally suspect? Might the mercenary be more susceptible to bribery, and thus potentially more likely to take up with the highest bidder – not necessarily the “right side”? In order to survive financially, must the mercenary necessarily be amoral – focused on payment for work completed, instead of the ethics of his tasks or the merits of the moral claims made by his clients (or their enemies)? In considering these questions, we turn to the fiercest bounty hunter in the Star Wars galaxy.
Boba Fett's cultural significance – and his robust and enduring fan base – stands in striking contrast with his minimal screen time, and even more so with his infrequent and tersely spoken lines. With Boba Fett, a small head tilt, as well as how he cradles his gun – signaling contemplation and competency – become important signs. George Lucas's addition of a clip showing Fett flirting in the “special edition” of Return of the Jedi stirred scandal since the gesture seemed so out of character; the actor who originally portrayed Boba Fett (Jeremy Bulloch) was dismayed by the intervention.1 With so little of Fett to judge, the inclusion of a few new seconds' worth of behavior can upend or give rise to whole new theories of character, motivation, and conduct.
It's true that the Expanded Universe fleshes out Fett's life and exploits, yet commentary on them is inspired by a remarkable dearth of scenes featuring Fett on film. As with many gnomic figures, it's plausible that Fett's allure and significance are partly explained by his infrequency on screen coupled with his reticence when he's there. Fett's quiescence is highlighted to comedic effect in the recent Shakespearean adaptation The Empire Striketh Back, in which his “As you wish” is followed by a lengthy Shakespearean-style soliloquy that reveals his inmost reflections.2
Still, he is a pivotal figure – Darth Vader's most trusted and effective bounty hunter – and significant plot points shift around Fett. As a bounty hunter – occupying an intermediate position between the perennial antagonisms of the Empire and the Rebel Alliance; Vader and Luke; Jabba and Han – Boba Fett also becomes a fitting icon of moral ambiguity. Though Fett is clearly loyal to Darth Vader – or at least the rewards that Vader offers – he isn't motivated by Vader's beliefs or ambitions. We must wonder, then, what drives Fett to act, especially on matters of morality? Is there any evidence that suggests Fett acts for any reason other than profit?
If the answer to this last question is “no,” then we might believe that he's an amoralist: that is, neither a moral relativist who believes there are many potentially valid positions on value, nor an ethical egoist who believes his own values to be the proper (and sufficient) source of judgment about what's good. Boba Fett's status as an intermediary – say, between Vader and the Rebels – might make him seem a moral relativist. Or perhaps his isolation and independence might recommend his credentials as an egoist. Yet, as we look closer at the very few occasions he's on screen, the more prominent, but darker, implication is that Fett has altogether removed himself from the project or practice of moral judgment. He may be a self-employed, freelance contractor, but he's not going to sort out the nuances of your moral dilemmas. So, what Fett – the epitome of a gun for hire – can help with is a consideration of the virtues and vagaries of the role of mercenaries as such.
As is often the case with characters in Star Wars, Boba Fett has father issues. He's the son of Jango Fett, a renowned bounty hunter, who in turn is the “father” – or, more precisely, “clone template” – to the entire Grand Army of the Republic. Each of the clone soldiers is genetically modified for unquestioning obedience, but, as a stipulation of Jango's contract with the Kaminoans, he was provided an “unaltered clone” to raise as his son, Boba. This makes Boba “genetically identical to Jango Fett” and thus “a cross between a son and a very late identical twin.”3 During the Battle of Geonosis, which sets off the Clone Wars, Boba witnesses his father's beheading by Jedi Master Mace Windu.
While Luke didn't discover who his father was until adulthood – receiving a parental (and imperial!) command to join him on the dark side – Boba was still a child when he faced the decision of whether or not to follow his father's path. The orphaned Fett thus undertakes vocational discernment prematurely, lacking, by contrast, the steadying and orienting moral influence of Uncle Owen on the young Luke. Moreover, Luke encounters a surrogate father in the form of Ben Kenobi, a Jedi whose ethical clarity is pivotal for Luke's capacity to turn away from the dark side but later compassionately turn toward his dying father. Boba, on the other hand, not long after the Battle of Geonosis, begins running in the company of bounty hunters like Aurra Sing.4
Bounty hunting in Boba's work occupies a gray zone between the white of his clone trooper brethren and the black of Vader. Lucas, in fact, describes Fett's origins as a “split” from his earliest vision of Vader.5 Even Boba's outfit is a mercurial gray/green, cobbled together from various parts and places, including his father's Mandalorian armor.6
Boba may be a “good son” who takes up his father's business, unlike Luke who actively resists Vader's offer, but the business itself is a troublesome affair. Bounty hunting is the trade of an independent contractor, the industry of a gun for hire, the labor of a mercenary. The bounty hunter accepts a commission from a client – not commands from a superior, which Boba's cloned brethren are conditioned to obey – and this implicates the mercenary agent in a position of making choices. As his decisions are made voluntarily (i.e., knowingly), he is morally culpable for his actions based on such decisions. In maturity, however, Fett doesn't seem to weigh the relative merits of his clients' claims versus their enemies' (as a moral relativist would), or take moral comfort from his own self-centered needs and desires (as an ethical egoist would). Instead, Fett has made the choice to withdraw from the moral order as a whole. When Solo's life is threatened by the carbonite-embalming process, Fett isn't concerned with Solo's life as a person, but strictly whether he'll be alive so that Fett can be paid by Jabba. Like a good delivery man who signs the insurance papers before the fact, Fett elicits Vader's reassurance that Fett will be paid his bounty even if Solo dies. Relieved of his preoccupation with monetary compensation, Fett remains faithful to the contract.
In light of Boba's genetic uniformity with the clone troopers of the Republic (and later Imperial) army, despite his significant personality differences, let's consider the ethics of bounty hunting, especially in relation to military ethics in the conduct of war. While fans may admire Fett's reserve, reliability, efficacy, independence, and even apparent code of Mandalorian honor, his mercenary role introduces certain ethical quandaries. This is because Fett's daily work involves kidnapping, killing, and otherwise operating beyond the strictures of a military chain of command.
If Boba Fett, in his gray zone between Rebellion and the Empire, is the embodiment of amoralism, what can we say about the use of mercenaries and independent contractors in our own world – such as Blackwater (now called Academi) and Halliburton in the U.S. wars in Iraq and Afghanistan – not to mention the expanding use of U.S Special Forces? The U.S. government and such companies have undertaken “a sophisticated rebranding campaign aimed at shaking the mercenary image and solidifying the ‘legitimate’ role of private soldiers in the fabric of U.S. foreign and domestic policy, as well as that of international bodies such as the UN and NATO.”7 As part of this “campaign,” “Mercenary firms are now called ‘private military companies’ or ‘private security companies,’ ” and the hired agents are referred to as private soldiers or civilian contractors.8 These euphemisms give rise to the suspicion that something of moral significance is being hidden.
What are the criteria for being a mercenary? The most common definition states that a mercenary is “motivated to take part in the hostilities [of armed conflict] essentially by the desire for private gain, and, in fact, is promised … material compensation substantially in excess of that promised or paid to combatants …; is neither a national of a Party to the conflict nor a resident of a territory controlled by a Party to the conflict; … [and] has not been sent by a State which is not a Party to the conflict on official duty as a member of its armed forces.”9 Given this definition, Boba Fett qualifies as a bona fide mercenary. He's motivated by money, unmotivated by the causes or reasons for warfare, and unaffiliated with a particular state and its military apparatus – including the enlisted soldiers, despite his genetic relationship to them. Mercenaries stand apart, above, over, and in between the conflicts of others. They are interlopers hired to exercise their specialized skills – not moral philosophers called up to adjudicate the nuances of value. When Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker “disarm” the bounty hunter Zam Wesell after her attempt on Padmé Amidala's life, their interrogation uncovers her utter disinterest in the ethical dimension of her foiled assassination:
| OBI-WAN: | Do you know who it was you were trying to kill? |
| ZAM: | It was a Senator from Naboo. |
| OBI-WAN: | And who hired you? |
| ZAM: | It was just a job. |
Unlike his clone counterparts, Fett, together with fellow bounty hunters Zam Wesell, Aurra Sing, Dengar, Zuckuss, IG-88, Bossk, and 4-LOM, are capable of independent decision making. They are not “programmed” to follow orders. Yet, even though Fett very much grows into his father's son, he and other “soldiers of fortune” are still caught between the needs and goals of the Rebellion and those of its adversary, the Empire. Indeed, the existence of that tension is the condition for the mercenary's business. Likewise, in contemporary warfare, when governments hire independent contractors, moral accountability and responsibility become sullied and strained. Conflict between dominant parties is good for the mercenary trade and the bounty-hunting business. It does not, however, clarify the moral justifiability of activities carried out in the name of the employer.
Must mercenary work invite amoralism? Or can the motivations that give rise to mercenary behavior sometimes be understood as moral? Our inquiry has to move beyond fan-boy adulation of Fett's “cool” qualities and the allure of his lifestyle as a freelancer. Instead, Boba Fett's status as a mercenary forces us to ask whether there is an identifiable and important moral difference between the military acts of states and those of mercenaries. Does a government's use of mercenaries in a war mean that such a conflict can't be a just war? After all, mercenaries' acts of violence are motivated, not by patriotic loyalty and values held dear, but by their wish for private financial gain.10 Does the introduction of a “free market” in the conduct of war transform moral questions into merely economic ones? The name bounty hunter indicates the issues at hand. Is the hunt only for rewards (bounty or booty)? And what kind of hunting is happening – a secretive but nonviolent search, or a guns-drawn, take-no-prisoners, bloody approach? Either way, the mercenary or bounty hunter, like the enlisted soldier, may kill defensively or offensively.
What if there were a mercenary who decided “to fight only in wars where legitimate nation-states are under threat of invasion”?11 Could there be such a “good mercenary”? Compare a nongovernmental employee or a freelance journalist who strikes out for a newly war-torn region to lend aid or to cover the event through word and image. The “good mercenary” would be similarly motivated to help, but would also be better paid than a soldier. The mercenary would be authorized like a soldier to use both offensive and defensive tactics, but independently of the state's military chain of command. Think, for example, of soldiers who fight for the United Nations in the role of “peacekeepers,” and “who do not fight for their country of origin, [but] who [do] fight for monetary and professional reasons.”12
The contemporary philosopher Michael Walzer lends additional credence to the notion of the “good mercenary.” Walzer describes the mercenary as a fighter who may exercise a “certain sort of freedom in choosing war,” unlike the conscripted private (or engineered clone trooper).13 For the enlisted soldier, ordered into combat, writes Walzer, “We assume that his commitment is to the safety of his country, that he fights only when it is threatened, and that then he has to fight (he has been ‘put to it’): it is his duty and not a free choice.”14 But in making an analogy with a medical professional, Walzer warns us that we may dismiss too readily the notion of a mercenary who feels a duty to seek service in a conflict: “[The mercenary] is like a doctor who risks his life during an epidemic, using professional skills he chose to acquire but whose acquisition is not a sign that he hopes for epidemics.”15
Repeated screenings of The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi may have convinced many viewers that Boba Fett's iconic status as an “antihero” was grounded in the appearance of amoralism being at the heart of mercenary work. Yet it may be the case that the “arguments which purport to demonstrate some morally salient differences between mercenary violence and violence perpetrated by regular national soldiers” are found wanting.16 The common attributes cited to ethically distinguish mercenaries from soldiers – money, motives, and the meaning of war – all fail “to provide a clear case for the moral inferiority of mercenarism per se.”17
If the world of Star Wars is mapped onto our own, the Galactic Empire can be seen as a legitimate state – Palpatine having been duly granted “emergency powers” by the Galactic Senate during the Clone Wars, and then elevated from Supreme Chancellor to Emperor in a chorus of “thunderous applause.” This would make the Rebels terrorists – as director Kevin Smith has implied.18 On the other hand, the typical fan's “point of view” is that the Empire is tyrannical, and the insurgency against it is justifiably carried out by a band of anti-Imperial “freedom fighters” – not unlike the eighteenth-century “patriots” who liberated the fledgling colonies in America from the imposing tyrannical regime of King George III of England.
Boba Fett's role and his decisions again prompt the question of whether a mercenary's motives may be corrupted by the morally unjustifiable aims of his employer in hiring him. If it is possible that Fett is a “good mercenary,” is he morally compromised by working for the wrong boss? Would Fett-as-mercenary be morally better if he switched sides and worked for the Rebellion? This question helps us ask what we really find objectionable about the mercenary. Is it that he's getting paid? Or that he may aid a “side” we judge morally loathsome? Or perhaps – and here is amoralism again – that he doesn't choose a side at all? In the opening crawl for Revenge of the Sith, we learn that “there are heroes on both sides” of the Republic versus Separatist dispute. We can understand, and potentially justify, the moral motivations of an “enemy” even if we don't agree with them, but it's more difficult to understand or justify the amoral stance of a mercenary. If there are legitimate reasons for the state to expand the use of mercenaries in the current age of terrorism – along with its varied forms of imposed force, from conventional ordnance to biochemical weapons to cyberattacks – do we need to rethink our moral assessment of the state, the mercenary, or both?
In Star Wars, there's an obvious moral “grammar” in many celebrated aspects of the films, from choice of words (“dark side,” “Death Star”) to costuming (black cloaks, red robes, fear-inducing masks) to mechanics (flawless Imperial ships versus the clunky Millennium Falcon). These qualities are usually framed as binary opposites, perhaps precisely so that the extremes can be complicated by the areas in between, just as Vader and Luke debate whether there is still “good” in the person who seems (and is costumed) to embody the epitome of evil.
In this realm where dichotomies and binary relationships are made to be dissolved or contested,19 we find the irony that Boba Fett's moral ambiguity – his literal and figurative grayness – may actually bring some measure of light, however faint, to the Empire's penetrating darkness. Meanwhile, the virtues of the bounty hunter, while often appearing at direct odds with our Rebel heroes, become pragmatically beneficial when Princess Leia, disguised as the Ubese bounty hunter, Boushh, cunningly barters with Jabba for the price of the “captured” Chewbacca. Jabba concedes, “This bounty hunter is my kind of scum, fearless and inventive.” Is that praise for the wiles of the bounty hunter or for the Rebel princess beneath the mask? Even Boba Fett offers her a subtle nod of respect after she nearly kills him and everyone else in Jabba's throne room with a thermal detonator. It seems, then, that the mercenary's grayness can also have a potent effect when mixed with the moral purity of the Rebel Alliance's cause.
Just as Han Solo, Luke Skywalker, and Darth Vader have entered popular culture as emblems of certain characteristics and behaviors – the scoundrel, the questing hero, the terrifying overlord – so has Boba Fett become a figure of mythic significance. Perhaps it's precisely the uncanny imbalance between his paltry screen time and his resonance in thinking about moral ambiguity that compels us to inquire “Why?” Nostalgia among those who grew up watching him is certainly part of the explanation – particularly for those who acquired a first-release Boba Fett action figure with an actual firing jetpack rocket before there was a safety recall. But as we've seen, such sentiments may get in the way of clear critical thinking about Fett's true role in the saga. Yet, while mercenaries have been a part of human culture since the first leader paid someone else to do his dirty work, Fett's particular features – the father issues, the mantle of inherited vocation, the individuality and independence of the job, the satisfactions and rewards of work effectively and efficiently done – all coalesce to make him a character with broad appeal and increasingly wide intellectual and philosophical significance. We can, in short, learn much about our own individual moral conduct, the government's responsibilities, and the ethics of war by considering Vader's favored go-to bounty hunter. In particular, we may see that there may not be much moral difference between the enlisted soldier and the hired mercenary – both proclaiming “As you wish” in response to their superiors' orders, as Fett to Vader and Vader to the Emperor – and that amoralism is – perhaps surprisingly, for most who feel compelled by deep moral considerations – a central part of human political and military life.
Though Boba Fett met what seemed to be an inauspicious end in Return of the Jedi, perhaps the scene of his death can be instructive. It's a kind of apathetic comment on the denial to Fett of a “good death” so familiar from the traditions of the warrior, knight, samurai, cowboy, and soldier. Fett ignominiously falls into a giant mouth, and the last sounds we hear are a scream and a generous belch. That's it. There is no grand standoff, no chance to give meaning to one's end, no death with dignity and pride. This is the death of the most notorious and effective bounty hunter in the galaxy – at least until he escapes the Sarlaac in the Expanded Universe and embarks on more adventures tormenting his favorite quarry, Han Solo. Later he admits that he only ever had a personal vendetta against the Jedi who killed his father: “Just wanted to remind you, Solo, that my personal fight was always with the Jedi. You were nothing more than cargo.”20 Eventually, Fett evolves from a mercenary to become the Mandalore, leader of his father's people, although he never gives up his bounty hunter ways.21 Later, just as her mother employed the bounty hunter persona for pragmatic effect in Jabba's palace and earned Fett's momentary respect, Jedi Knight Jaina Solo sought out Fett to train her in a specifically non-Jedi fashion so that she could defeat her fallen brother, Darth Caedus.22
In his life, and even in his apparent death, Boba Fett remains a mercenary for our times. We're not done thinking about him yet. It's fitting, then, that a stand-alone Boba Fett feature film is in development to resurrect him again for our entertainment and contemplation.