“We have arrived at that brave new world that seemed so distant in 1932 when Aldous Huxley wrote about human beings created in test tubes in what he called a hatchery.”1—George W. Bush
“We’re not droids. We’re not programmed. You have to learn to make your own decisions.”2—Captain Rex
At a crucial point during Attack of the Clones, the second film in the Star Wars prequel trilogy, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi is surprised to discover a clone army purportedly commissioned by Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas years earlier. Welcomed by the Kaminoan cloners and treated to a grand tour of the cloning facility, Obi-Wan inspects the process by which 1.2 million clone units are in the process of being grown, trained, and prepared for delivery. Obi-Wan, as well as the audience members who travel with him, witnesses human clones in every stage of development: embryos in gestation tubes, adolescents receiving instruction in classrooms, and adults conducting combat drills. The cloners inform Obi-Wan:
Clones can think creatively. You will find that they are immensely superior to droids. We take great pride in our combat education and training programs…. You’ll find they are totally obedient, taking any order without question. We modified their genetic structure to make them less independent than the original host.
As the tour concludes, the camera pulls back to reveal a troubled Obi-Wan looking out over a massive hangar as fully armored and armed clones move in perfect military precision. This initial encounter with the clone troopers of the Grand Army of the Republic is a significant moment in the Star Wars mythos that sets not only the climax of Attack of the Clones into motion but also lays the groundwork for the decimation of the Jedi Order in Revenge of the Sith. The clones encountered by Obi-Wan Kenobi become the primary troops by which the Galactic Republic battles Count Dooku (a fallen Jedi) and the droid armies of the rebellious Confederacy of Independent Systems. These battles form the context for The Clone Wars television series.
While the clones appear largely in the background of the two prequel films, the clone troopers emerge as primary characters in the animated Clone Wars series. In fact, the theatrical clone troopers and the animated clone troopers seem like almost different characters completely. The clones of the two feature films lack individuality (in both appearance and behavior), obey orders with a curt nod or a “Yes, sir!” and maintain superficial relationships with their Jedi generals. The troopers of the animated series, on the other hand, possess a greater degree of individuality, discuss battle plans with other clones as well as their superior officers, and maintain what can only be described as friendships with their Jedi generals. And while The Clones Wars explores the galactic war waged in the years between Attack of the Clones and Revenge of the Sith, the television series provides a much more complex portrait of clone troopers in the Star Wars galaxy. These contradictory representations of clone troopers should come as no surprise as the extended screen time of a serialized television program allows the writers, directors, and animators of The Clone Wars to present a vast array of three dimensional characters moving through multiple, intertwined story arcs. A three episode story arc focusing on the attempts of Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, and Ahsoka Tano to free one of their Jedi colleagues from a military prison might be followed by a single episode featuring a squad of clone troopers protecting an isolated communications outpost. The clone troopers, characters relegated to the background in the Star Wars films, are often front and center in The Clone Wars. Indeed, several standalone episodes and story arcs focus on clone troopers as the primary protagonists.
Joining the ranks of such familiar science fiction texts as Boys from Brazil, Old Man’s War, Moon, Star Trek, Farscape, and Battlestar Galactica, the depiction of cloning in The Clone Wars wrestles with the “metaphysical and ethical challenges” associated with “the prospect of cloning fully-grown human persons.”3 Cloning narratives, no matter the form, call on audiences to consider such questions as the possibility of individuality and uniqueness in the midst of a hegemonic community, the role of science in creating or prolonging human life, and the morality of manufacturing cloned individuals only to harvest their organs or send them into harm’s way. The questions inspired by these popular texts, and frequently engaged directly by the characters represented within the texts, “animates the cultural imaginary to explore the meaning of the new biotechnologies in and for our lives and selves.”4 Some critics, like Sheryl Hamilton, go so far as to suggest that science fiction texts focused on cloning and biogenetics may be the primary way many members of the public square acquire the knowledge necessary to participate in cultural dialogues concerning biotechnologies.5 Fictional accounts of biotechnology, coupled with the occasional round of news stories covering a biotechnical breakthrough, tend to focus attention on the philosophical implications rather than the science. As such, argues Hopkins, most people are far more prepared to discuss the ethical considerations of cloning than they are the actual scientific process involved.6 It should come as no surprise, then, that political deliberations regarding cloning follow a similar pattern.
Throughout much of the twentieth century, cloning remained a familiar plot element consigned to the sphere of speculative fiction. All that changed in February 1997 when a team of Scottish scientists announced the successful birth of Dolly, a cloned sheep. Although an admittedly inexact and imperfect scientific method—Dolly was the 277th attempted clone—the cloning of Dolly moved what was once an impossible feat of fictional scientists to a plausible potentiality: the possibility of cloning human beings became a reality. Unaware of the scientific complexity involved with cloning a mammal, some people reacted with a cautious excitement as journalists speculated on the possibility of organ transplants, cures for disease, and transhumanism. “It’s unbelievable,” remarked Professor Lee Silver, a biologist at Princeton University. “They said it could never be done and now here it is, done before the year 2000.”7 Not everyone saw this event as a reason to celebrate human ingenuity and scientific achievement. Pundits, politicians, and the general public expressed extreme caution and outright revulsion toward what they viewed as the next logical step in cloning research: human cloning. On February 23, a day after the Dolly announcement, Los Angeles Times medical writer Thomas H. Maugh II described the revelation as “fraught with moral ambiguities” and “likely to spark an intense debate about the ethics of genetic engineering research in humans.” As the content of Maugh’s piece illustrates, media sources overlooked the scientific significance of the breakthrough (if the process was discussed at all), and turned immediately to the moral and ethical implications of cloning technologies.8
Before turning to an examination of the congressional debates, a quick science lesson is in order. According to the Genetics and Public Policy Center of Johns Hopkins University, cloning technologies cluster around two distinct procedures: (1) reproductive cloning, or the process of creating a genetically identical embryo which is then implanted and gestated within a uterus and (2) therapeutic cloning, the duplication of an embryo for the purpose of harvesting stem cells. While reproductive cloning results in an identical copy of the genetic donor, like Dolly, therapeutic cloning duplicates an embryo with the intention of coaxing stem cells to adopt the properties of a particular kind of cell that might then be used to treat disease. Reproductive cloning produces a genetic twin; therapeutic cloning produces genetically twinned cells and tissue.9 As The Clone Wars presents little commentary on the issue of therapeutic cloning, the contents of this chapter focus on reproductive cloning.
As Maugh predicted, an intense congressional debate ensued over the ethics and uses of cloning technologies. The debates, occurring in two major waves over the course of six years (1997–2003), struggled to come to terms with the new technology as well as the possibility of governmental controls over said technology. The first wave of congressional debate emerged soon after the Dolly announcement. Ten days after the news broke, President Clinton prohibited the use of federal funds for scientific research pertaining to human cloning, encouraged the private sector to declare a moratorium on similar work, and tasked the National Bioethics Advisory Commission with investigating the political, legal, and social ramifications of the process. Acknowledging the potential boon to genetics research and medical treatments, as well as the potential ethical issues involved, Clinton called on the country to evaluate cloning technologies with “caution but also with a conscience” and to consider “the concerns of faith and family and philosophy and values, not merely of science alone.”10 Within six months the NBAC recommended federal legislation banning public or private attempts to clone a human child and also concluded that “the cloning of human DNA sequences and cell lines” (therapeutic cloning) should continue unabated.11 Congress did not see the issue in the same light and, as a result of the pro-life advocates who demanded a ban on both reproductive and therapeutic cloning, the Cloning Prohibition Act of 1997 was defeated.
For the next several years numerous attempts to revive some form of cloning prohibition surfaced but, despite a unanimous rejection of human reproductive cloning, ideological arguments about the ethics of therapeutic cloning doomed proposed legislation. Shelved by Congress, the cloning debate dropped out of the public eye temporarily. The ethical challenges presented by cloning technologies resurfaced as a matter of public consequence when, over the course of fourteen months (September 2000 to November 2001), several announcements garnered the attention of the news media and the scientific community.
September 2000: Brigitte Boisellier, science director for project Clonaid, revealed plans to impregnate five surrogate mothers with cloned embryos. While the seriousness of the science behind Clonaid’s interest in cloning was always in question–Clonaid is the company associated with the Raelianism, a movement that believes life on Earth was engineered by extraterrestrials—the publicness of the announcement, as well as the sensational media coverage, brought the issue of cloning back into the public eye.
January 2001: Fertility specialists Pano Zavos and Severino Antinori announced their intention to clone a human baby within a two year period.12
July 2001: Advanced Cell Technology, a respected biotechnology company, acknowledged efforts to clone human cells for therapeutic purposes; on November 26, 2001, the New York Times reported ACT had achieved its goal.
On August 9, 2001, President George W. Bush responded to the various announcements and echoed President Clinton’s concerns regarding the rapid advances in biotechnology. President Bush stated, “As the genius of science extends the horizons of what we can do, we increasingly confront complex questions about what we should do. We have arrived at that brave new world that seemed so distant in 1932 when Aldous Huxley wrote about human beings created in test tubes in what he called a hatchery.”13 Unlike President Clinton, however, President Bush articulated a nuanced position regarding the use of federal funds for what he termed “research cloning” (therapeutic cloning). Under Bush’s order, research involving previously developed stem cell lines (in other words, stem cells derived from previous research cloning) would be eligible for federal funds; research involving the cloning of new stem cell lines would be prohibited. Later that same year (November 28, 2001), Bush formed the President’s Council on Bioethics and tasked the council with investigating the ethical and social issues surrounding therapeutic cloning and stem cell research. On April 10, 2002, President Bush voiced his support for congressional legislation banning any and all forms of human cloning, reproductive, therapeutic, or otherwise. Although legislators answered the president’s call for action, the second round of congressional deliberations also broke down as a result of pro-life and pro-choice arguments concerning therapeutic cloning. A formal bill never received bilateral support and, to this day, human cloning in the United States is not prohibited by federal law.
Despite the failure to produce a piece of legislation banning reproductive human cloning, the congressional debates did challenge lawmakers, as Senator Harkin suggested, to “ask how human cloning research is going to affect our Nation.”14 Other legislators situated congressional deliberations in the broader context of human existential philosophy as they asked how cloning might impact humanity’s understanding of the meaning of life itself.15 Whether the debate was focused on national implications or implications relevant to a broader view of humanity, most representatives seemed to agree that human reproductive cloning was one of the “most important scientific and ethical issues of the twenty-first century.”16 And even though consensus was never reached on legislative action, Congress remained unified in its opposition to reproductive cloning and expressed its opposition in terms of recurring issues: individuality, the commodification of humanity, eugenics, and family. Given that a clone is a genetic duplicate of another person, the first of these concerns—questions of individuality and self-determination—is the most obvious. The National Bioethics Advisory Commission’s report on human cloning, a report frequently cited in the early years of congressional debates, asked: “Is there a moral or human right to a unique identity, and if so would it be violated by this manner of human cloning?”17 Representative DeMint emphasized the new philosophical and ethical challenges implicated by the possibility of human cloning when he stated, “Our fingerprints are like snowflakes—there is not, nor has there ever been, an exact replica of another human being.”18 This prospect of attempting to duplicate the human fingerprint or snowflake of self-identity, argued Senator Bond, “threatens human dignity, of what it means to be a unique individual.”19 Representative Greenwood went so far as to draw on religious tradition when he described every naturally born human as a unique creation of God and described clones, an artificially created human, as “replicates, the human equivalent of an epilogue.”20
While much of the legislative dialogue addressed the individuality of the person being cloned, participants in the conversation also raised several questions regarding the individuality and self-determination of clones. To what extent would a clone be given the opportunity to develop her or his own sense of individuality, uniqueness, and autonomy? As a duplicate of another person, would a clone be given the opportunity to explore her own identity or would she be expected to adopt the character traits and behavioral nuances of the original? As several legislators and witnesses in congressional hearings suggested, one can easily imagine the anxiety inducing challenges faced by a clone created as a replacement for a dead child. Nigel M. De S. Cameron, professor of theology and culture at Trinity University, made this point explicit during his testimony at a Congressional hearing: “Think of a child growing up, wondering every time mom and dad look at the child, am I myself, or am I here as a copy of my dead sibling?”21 Could parents, even with the best of intentions, allow a cloned child to develop her own identity and avoid making subtle comparisons with the original child? Could such comparisons influence the way a parent acts with a cloned child and, thus, put subtle pressures on the identity of that child? Arthur Caplan, professor and director of the Center for Bioethics at the University of Pennsylvania, remarked during his March 28, 2001, congressional testimony, “whether or not you are the same as the person who cloned you, many will treat you that way.”22 To complicate matters further, congressional deliberation brought to light another important question concerning individuality: does a society committed to protecting life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for its constitutive members, have a responsibility to “also respect the individual’s right to self-determination”?23 If scientists cloned a person with a brilliant mind, exceptional physical fortitude, or superlative artistic skill, would the clone be manipulated psychologically, or maybe even coerced physically, to excel as an engineer, a soldier, or poet? Even if the cloned individual was allowed to escape the specter of his original, people would “compare his doings in life with those of his alter ego, especially if he is a clone of someone gifted or famous.”24
The second oft-treated concern in the human cloning debate revolved around the commodification of the human body and life itself. Several dialogue participants questioned whether a cloned individual might receive treatment different than a child conceived naturally; would people be more likely to exploit a manufactured person than one born and raised in a traditional biological sense? Much of the debate surrounding this issue addressed the idea of cloning individuals for medical purposes. How does a society negotiate the complex moral quandaries that arise when duplicating an individual to serve as a living and breathing “spare parts” repository?25 What about the married couple who decide to store a cloned embryo “as a replacement in case the first child dies”?26 As Representative Greenwood asked, would the fact that one child might be produced naturally and the other artificially result in distinguishing the two processes wherein one is considered “creation and the other mere construction”?27 Drawing a distinction between “creation” and “construction” implicates a potential value judgment: one child might be treated as an autonomous person while the other might be exploited and objectified as a manufactured commodity. The report from President Clinton’s National Bioethics Advisory Commission made this point clearly and concisely. The report stated, “to objectify a person is to act towards the person without regard for his or her own desires or well-being, as a thing to be valued according to externally imposed standards, and to control the person rather than to engage her or him in a mutually respectful relationship. Objectification, quite simply, is treating the child as an object—a creature less deserving of respect for his or her moral agency.”28 In essence, most of the participants in the dialogue adhered to the notion that a culture allowing reproductive human cloning runs the risk of exploiting these manufactured individuals; the mere potential for creating a class of disposable humans is enough to justify a full ban. “It does not take a fan of science-fiction,” commented Representative Tiahrt, “to imagine the scenarios that would ensue from legalized cloning—headless humans used as organ farms, malformed humans killed because they were viewed as an experiment not a person, gene selection to create a supposed inferior species to become slaves, societal values used to create a supposed superior species.”29 Senator Frist summarized the position of most legislators when he said, “Cloning should be strictly prohibited to prevent the commoditization and exploitation of human life.”30
Closely related to the cloning as commodification concern was the troubling prospect that cloning technologies “could lead to a new eugenics movement” and “the establishment of scientific categories and superior and inferior people.”31 Unlike the commodification argument, an argument which cautioned clones might be singled out as disposable, second class people, the eugenics argument warned non-genetically-modified individuals might be the people at risk of being pronounced inferior. As Stuart Newman, professor of cell biology and anatomy at New York Medical College, testified to the House of Representatives, the field of eugenics focuses on “defining humans as genetically superior or inferior” as well as researching ways to improve human genetic stock in such broad areas as resistance to disease, enhanced memory function, superior artistic ability, physical constitution, beauty, and longevity.32 Several legislators cautioned that the search for an improved human, even when initiated with good intention, could prove detrimental. For Representative Musgrave the cloning of human life, as well as the genetic therapy associated with the practice, requires the reconceptualization of human life as an object to be improved, manipulated, and perfected. Such pursuits, argued Musgrave, diminish “all human life” and “render certain people desirable and others not.”33 Conjuring the spirits of World War II, Representative Pitts likened the genetic manipulation of cloned individuals to the horrific scientific programs of Nazi Germany: “The Nazis may in fact have been able to create a race of healthier and more capable Germans if they had been allowed to proceed, but eugenics and cloning are both wrong.”34
The final major point of opposition related to traditional conceptions of family. A handful of congressional witnesses dismissed objections to human reproductive cloning as a threat to family structure and characterized the new relationships as “just another way of creating a family, just like in vitro fertilization.”35 Most of the debate participants, however, disagreed with this opinion and articulated apprehension toward rethinking familial relationships in the age of human reproductive cloning. Testifying before a Senate hearing Leon Kass, chair of the President’s Council on Bioethics, cautioned that cloning as a reproductive technology would “enshrine and aggravate a profound and mischief-making misunderstanding” of the meaning and practice of family.36 Representative Weldon expressed similar misgivings when he stated, “Because human cloning is an asexual form of reproduction, cloning confounds the meaning of ‘father’ and ‘mother’ and confuses the identity and kinship relations of any cloned child. This threatens to weaken existing notions regarding who bears which parental duties and responsibilities for children.”37 When employed by an infertile couple, reproductive cloning could give rise to any number of confounding familial relationships. A cloned child, for instance, might find herself in a family unit whereby her mother is also her genetic twin. Similarly, a father might raise a child who is not only his son but also his genetic grandfather. In light of these potential challenges to traditional family connections, Cardinal Keeler warned cloning would “mean a radical rupture of these bonds.”38 One might also envision a case where a clone, an individual replicated for research or performing hazardous tasks, might be raised in an environment quite different than the traditional family structure. Rather than father or mother in the commonly understood sense, a clone might be raised by a team of researchers or biogenetic engineers. Although not a direct participant in the congressional deliberations, Jorge Garcia, a professor of philosophy at Rutgers University, weighed in on the controversy and offered his observations regarding manufactured humans and the absence of family. “She may have many quasiparents,” he argued, “but one ground for worry is that none may be tied to her in the role of protector that a child’s parents traditionally occupy.”39
This summary of congressional deliberations makes clear the near unanimous support for an all out ban on human reproductive cloning. Looking back at the major arguments supporting a ban—individuality, commodification, eugenics, and family—it’s difficult to use the term “dialogic” in the Bakhtinian sense. At least at first glance. Congressional opposition to reproductive cloning takes on a monologic appearance when one considers nearly every speaker, whether a senator, representative, or invited guest of a congressional hearing, makes virtually identical arguments. While multiple speakers participated in the ongoing policy debate, multivocality in the sense of varied cultural voices, ideological positions, and deliberative tensions appears absent. In fact, had the discussions regarding therapeutic cloning not been closely associated with reproductive cloning, a federal ban on cloning would surely be in place today. Taking a step back from the actual congressional exchanges and situating the utterances within a broader cultural conversation on cloning, however, might yield a dialogic understanding of the controversy.
As I suggested earlier in the chapter, cultural representations of cloning inhabited the realm of science fiction prior to the events of 1997. Before the announcement of Dolly and the rapid fire developments of the subsequent four years, very few individuals encountered the idea of human reproductive cloning outside the science fiction genre. Many references throughout the congressional debates illustrated the pervasive influence of the speculative genre. References to “science fiction,” Brave New World, and Frankenstein stand as evidence for the genre’s ability to shape public consciousness. In a Bakhtinian sense, these nods to mediated genres (literary and otherwise) implicate a kind of intersubjective responsive understanding; participants in the congressional dialogue call on prior understandings of “cloning” to make sense of the present. Since a Bakhtinian dialogue is unfinalizable, I want to suggest The Clone Wars treatment of human reproductive cloning is a continuation of this active form of collaborative meaning-making . The fundamentals of dialogic meaning-making dictate that The Clone Wars, with its extended portrayals of clone troopers and the challenges facing clone troopers in a time of extended war, must also reference previous cultural understandings, as well as anticipate audience response, to constitute present meanings. Any present depiction of human cloning, even a series set in the fictional Star Wars universe, acknowledges previous utterances as well as the anticipated creative perception of intended audience members. With this in mind, I turn my attention to examining how The Clone Wars references previous utterances, particularly the congressional concerns around individuality, commodification, and family, and solicits serious political consideration from viewers.
From the outset, The Clone Wars makes an argument for the individuality of genetically identical troopers. One of the most obvious displays of individuality is the physical appearance of the clone troopers. Although the clones’ unadulterated forms make them indistinguishable from one another, the troopers utilize stylistic choices and body modification to indicate difference. Some clone troopers dye their hair or shave their head; others sport stylized goatees and/or head and face tattoos. Captain Rex, a clone trooper who works closely with Jedi general Anakin Skywalker, is represented with a blonde buzz cut. Commander Cody, on the other hand, wears his natural brown hair in a traditional military flat top. ARC Trooper Fives, a clone trooper who appears with some regularity throughout the series, can be distinguished from other clones by his goatee and trademark “5” facial tattoo. And Tup, a rookie clone who participates in the Umbarra campaign, pulls his hair back into a top-knot and has a teardrop tattooed under his left eye. Some clones also adorn their armor with unique stylistic innovations typically in the form of painted emblems or designs (e.g., Wolf head, teardrop, handprint). To some degree, the stylistic variations from one clone to another help the creators of The Clone Wars achieve clarity in storytelling. One can only imagine the narrative confusion viewers might experience when watching a conversation between three or four undifferentiated clones. Narrative conventions aside, the varying appearance implicates a degree of autonomy, of individual identity, on the part of the clones.
Clones also display difference through their demeanor. While one clone might be dead serious at all times, another might be gregarious and fun loving. These personality quirks, often presented in moments outside of combat as all the clones display a workmanlike seriousness when in battle, suggest physical duplication does not result in psychological replication. The clones might share a body but they do not share a personality. In fact, these personal idiosyncrasies often play an integral role in a clone’s naming process. The troopers of The Clone Wars receive a numerical designation as they emerge from the cloning chambers (e.g., CT-27–5555) and proceed through some 10 years of martial training. Echoing the concerns of some of the congressional deliberators, the cloners, educators, and trainers who prepare the troopers for their assigned duties within the Grand Army of the Republic maintain a professional distance from their trainees and typically refer to them by their numerical designation. The clones, however, take it upon themselves to adopt names rather than numerical designations, names often tied to a personality trait. “Clone Cadets,” an episode that depicts a squad of clones going through their final tests before entering active duty, illustrates how several clones take names associated with individual behaviors. Clone trooper CT-27–5555 adopts the name “Fives,” a wisecracking CT-4040 takes the name “Cutup,” and CT-21–0408, a clone with the propensity to repeat every order, rule, and regulation out loud, adopts the name “Echo.” CT-782, a trooper who excels with heavy weapons and also carries the emotional burdens of his squad, becomes known as “Hevy.”
The treatment of clones as individuals is not limited to their appearance, behaviors, and names but also in the way other characters interact with them. In the initial episode of the series Jedi Master Yoda, the leader and moral center of the Jedi Order, positions clone troopers as unique individuals in spite of their similar appearance. Stranded on an alien moon and hounded by the droid soldiers of the Separatist army, Yoda and three clones take refuge in a cave for some much needed rest. During their respite, Yoda asks the clone troopers to remove their helmets and one of the troopers quips, “Not much to look at here, sir. We all share the same face.” Yoda’s response strikes to heart of the individuality argument: “Deceive you, eyes can. In the Force, very different each of you are.”40 So while the clones might share genetic material and have a similar purpose as units in the Republic Army, Yoda grounds his assessment in the spiritual authority of the Force and suggests each clone possesses an undeniable uniqueness. Yoda even goes as far as to identify varying behavioral qualities evidenced by each of the three clones: Rhys is continually assessing the enemy opposition, Jek is overly concerned with weaponry, and Thire is always ready to jump into battle. These differences mark the clone troopers, at least partially, as individuals. Important to note, however, is that when Yoda defines the clones as individuals he does so within the limited subjectivity of soldier. The clones might be different in the Force but, when it comes to the pragmatics of war within the Star Wars galaxy, the clones are soldiers not farmers, bankers, or artists. Echoing the concerns heard within congressional discourse, Yoda identifies the clones as individuals yet limits their right to self-determination. The clones, as several episodes of the series suggest, exhibit a degree of self-reflexivity about this contradiction.
For a group of individuals literally born into a life of military service, many clones display a surprising level of self-awareness and existential reflexivity regarding their collective lot in life. Important to remember in the context of The Clone Wars is the simple fact that the Kaminoans produced the clones for one purpose and one purpose only: to be the combat units of the Grand Army of the Republic. From fighter pilot, to reconnaissance scout, to naval gunner, to marine, clone troopers fulfill a wide variety of military specializations within the Republic force, typically based on their individual strengths and weaknesses, and achieve varying ranks based on distinguished service. Such references to degrees of ability, as well as examples of clone cadets coveting particular assignments, emphasizes the point that clone troopers, despite being bred for a singular purpose, do have some autonomy. Numerous examples of battlefield ingenuity also suggest the clones are not unthinking grunts who act on every order without question. In fact, Captain Rex makes this point clear when he and some of the troopers under his command question the orders of a Jedi general who is, in fact, acting against the best interests of the Republic. When one of the men argues that the clones must follow orders, Rex replies, “We’re not droids. We’re not programmed. You have to learn to make your own decisions.”41 Fives reiterates this point in the season six episode “Fugitive.” When Fives discovers the biological inhibitor chip tied to Order 66–the order compelling the clone troopers to kill their Jedi comrades in Revenge of the Sith—the Kaminoan cloners attempt to conceal their involvement by terminating him. Clone trooper Fives objects to his death sentence and shouts, “I am not a piece of hardware. I am a living being!”42 This demarcation between clones and droids is an important distinction as a comparison between the two is easy to make throughout the series. Rows of clones marching lock step in their white armor look strikingly similar to the rows of battle droids and super battle droids who make up the combat units of the Separatists. Someone unfamiliar with the Star Wars universe could easily mistake the armored clone troopers for a kind of humanoid, robotic soldier. And, truth be told, most episodes feature the Republic clones and Separatist droids moving through the background with a mechanical precision, never questioning orders and always doing their utmost to complete an objective.
When the troopers remove their helmets, however, they expose their humanness and come to life as autonomous individuals capable of self-reflection and self-determination. In an episode titled “The Deserter” the tension between autonomy and servitude takes center stage as two clones discuss the issue explicitly.43 As the title suggests, the episode revolves around an encounter between Captain Rex and Cut Lawquane, a deserter who fled the war effort and eventually settled down to raise a family. Injured during a clash with Separatist forces, Captain Rex is taken to a local farm to convalesce while the remainder of his squad continues a vital search and capture mission. Captain Rex soon discovers that his benefactor is more than just a simple farmer: he’s a former clone trooper who deserted his post early in the war and now lives a life of his own choosing. The following account of their initial encounter centralizes the issue of choice.
Rex: What’s your number and rank.
Cut: My name is Lawquane. Cut Lawquane. And I’m just a simple farmer.
Rex: You’re a deserter!
Cut: Well, I’d like to think I’m merely exercising my freedom to choose. To choose not to kill for a living.
Rex: That is not your choice to make. You swore an oath to the Republic. You have a duty.
Cut: I have a duty, you’re right. But it’s to my family. Does that count or do you still plan to turn me in?
Rex: Do I have a choice?
Later in the episode, Cut and Rex continue their conversation and Cut explains why he made the choice to desert from the Grand Army. After his troop transport was shot down during a combat mission gone terribly wrong, Cut managed to crawl away, hide, and watch as the droid army sifted through the wreckage and executed all survivors. “It’s the day I felt my life didn’t have any meaning,” explains an obviously pained Cut. “Everyone I cared about, my team, was gone. I was just another expendable clone, waiting for my turn to be slaughtered in a war that made no sense to me. Can you understand that, Rex?” Rex, his voice filled with empathy, responds quietly: “I’ve been in countless battles and lost many brothers. They were my family. My home.” These interactions between Captain Rex and Cut Lawquane present a rich, nuanced account of the issues at work when one considers cloning, individuality, and self-determination.
Unlike the near unanimous group think offered by participants during congressional deliberations, The Clone Wars presents a situation whereby individuality is largely respected but self-determination is restricted. The representation of clone troopers, with their diverse personality traits, stylistic innovations, and names, alleges that cloned individuals, even when raised in a controlled environment, develop distinct identities. In this sense, then, The Clone Wars challenges the congressional assumption that cloning technologies pose a significant threat to human dignity and the right to maintain one’s uniqueness; cloned individuals are more than the human epilogue of a complete memoir. A clone may share her or his genetic makeup and basic physical appearance with another person (or persons depending on the number of replicates), but stylistic innovations and unique personality traits, as well as the complex cultural milieu permeating a community, contributes to the formation of a singular subjectivity for each and every individual. Furthermore, Master Yoda’s reliance on the spiritual authority of the Force simultaneously repudiates the argument that a clone is not a unique individual in the eyes of God and yet supports the notion of a transcendent moral authority. Despite their individuality, however, clone troopers find themselves limited to a life of combat. Important to remember is that Cut Lawquane is an exception to the rule and is presented to viewers as a way of bringing the ethical treatment of the clone protagonists to light. The Cut Lawquane character functions as a narrative disruption, reminding viewers that the characters for whom they feel an affinity fight in a war not of their own choosing. Did the clones who swore an oath to the Republic truly choose to swear that oath or were they prodded, cajoled, manipulated, or even programmed? This depiction of individuals who think and act of their own accord, who recognize they are not unthinking automatons like the enemies they often face and yet ultimately possess little or no self-determination is one of the most tragic points brought to light by The Clone Wars.
Closely related to the arguments presented about individuality and self-determination is The Clone Wars’ commentary on commodification. As congressional discussion suggested, moral questions arise when considering how a culture, and individuals within that culture, might respond differently to people born naturally or created artificially. Glimpses into the cloning process, particularly in the season three episodes “Clone Cadets” and “ARC Troopers,” leave no question that the clones are manufactured commodities. The Kaminoan cloning facility is a massive, city sized complex of sterile laboratories, massive cloning chambers, expansive military training grounds, cramped living quarters, and regimented classrooms. In an obvious visual reference to in vitro fertilization and the related euphemistic “test tube baby” terminology of the late 1970s and early 1980s, thousands of Kaminoan cloning cylinders—each housing a developing human—populate the background of several scenes. The nearly endless rows of oversized test tubes inhabited by developing clones are reminiscent of the stream of goods often associated with an assembly line. In fact, the entire clone breeding and education process functions with assembly line precision: the clones are grown, born, educated/trained, and certified for deployment. Adding to the manufactured feel is the uniform appearance of all clone cadets; until they graduate to the status of clone trooper, all clones dress exactly alike and, with the exception of some distinctive personality traits, are virtually indistinguishable from one another. For all intents and purposes, the clones are nothing more than interchangeable products being assembled and shipped off to a customer.
And once they find themselves in the hands of the customer, the Republic military machine, the commodification of clone troopers is only reinforced. In episode after episode, season after season, thousands of clones are ordered into battle where they meet their onscreen demise. Presented within the context of an animated Cartoon Network series, it’s easy to forget that The Clone Wars is story about a galaxy at war and the way in which a core group of characters negotiate the cultural changes inflicted by that conflict. When an episode focuses on a diplomatic mission, or the comedic exploits of Jar Jar Binks or C-3PO, the war effort churns relentlessly in the background; while audience members laugh at Jar Jar’s bumbling antics, clone troopers continue to fight, and die, off screen. Lost in the myopic narrative vision of viewers, viewers who are compelled to pay attention to foregrounded characters, is the simple fact that nearly every soldier lost in the context of The Clone Wars is a clone trooper. When an ARC-170 starfighter is shot down, or a Venator-class Star Destroyer (an aircraft carrier analog) is obliterated, or an attack gunship erupts in flames, the casualties are clone troopers. When enemy weaponry vaporizes scores of ground troops, clone troopers bear the burden. Even though Shaak Ti, the Jedi Master who supervises the clone training process on Kamino, describes the troopers as “living beings, not objects” the vast majority of clones appear only as objects. Clone trooper deaths become so commonplace, so routine, that characters in the program rarely acknowledge the loss. With the exception of Captain Rex, Commander Cody, and a handful of clones introduced in one particular storyline or another, clones are anonymous and disposable. Viewers rarely get to know the clone who gets caught in an explosion or falls victim to a super battle droid’s blaster fire. What viewers do know is that more clones will be available in the next episode. In fact, the disposableness of clones becomes even more pronounced when the Galactic Senate simply votes to fund the production of additional clones.
Nowhere is the issue of commodification more apparent than in season four’s Umbara story arc. The story arc opens with the troopers of the 501st Legion and their commanding officer, General Anakin Skywalker, participating in a dangerous ground assault to capture the capital city of Umbara, a planet cloaked in perpetual darkness. Matters go from bad to worse for the clones when General Skywalker is called back to Coruscant, the Republic capital, and legendary Jedi general Pong Krell takes temporary command of the legion. Unlike Skywalker, a leader who treats the clones as near equals and does his utmost to minimize casualties, General Krell shows little respect for the troopers and regards them as little more than tactical units on the battlefield. Krell refers to the troopers by their numerical designation rather than their chosen names (e.g., CT-7567 rather than Captain Rex), views questions or strategy suggestions as a form of insubordination, and shows no compassion for the massive clone casualties incurred during repeated frontal assaults of military targets. For example, when a trooper questions one of Krell’s decisions the general turns to the clone and asks, “CT-7567, do you have a malfunction in your design?” After being dressed down by the general, Captain Rex stands his ground and responds, “I followed your orders, even in the face of a plan that was, in my opinion, severely flawed. A plan that cost us men. Not clones, men!” When the general’s reckless tactics lead to an alarming death toll, ARC Trooper Fives turns to his fellow troopers and exclaims, “I am not another number. None of us are!” For the general the clone troopers are nothing more than the means by which to accomplish a military objective. For Captain Rex and ARC Trooper Fives, the clones are individual beings—men—deserving of the respect due all people.
In the latter episodes of the story arc the tensions between General Krell and clone troopers come to a head. Frustrated by unimaginative strategies that result in an unnecessary loss of life, Captain Rex, ARC Trooper Fives, and a handful of other clones disobey orders because “it’s the right thing to do” and undertake two successful covert operations that benefit not only the soldiers of the 501st but the entire Umbara campaign.44 As a result of what he deems treasonous actions, General Krell sentences two troopers to death by firing squad. The firing squad scene brings the issue of cloning and commodification into sharp focus as Fives, standing with his hands tied behind his back and staring down the barrels of several blasters, makes an impassioned speech to his comrades in arms.
This is wrong and we all know it. The General is making a mistake. And he should be called on it. No clone should have to go out this way. We are loyal soldiers, we follow orders, but we are not a bunch of unthinking droids. We are men. We must be trusted to make the right decisions, especially when the orders we are given are wrong.45
Fives’ speech to his fellow clone troopers is one of the series most overt statements about how a culture might consider the status of clones. For Fives, his role as a soldier is never in question; he is loyal to his brothers and is committed to the ideals of the Republic. He is also a thinking individual capable of making moral judgments of right and wrong and, when necessary, standing up to his superiors when he perceives their judgment as flawed. As the concluding episode of the Umbara arc reveals, Fives’ call to disobey orders and confront the general is the morally superior position as Jedi Master Pong Krell has turned to the dark side, betraying both the Jedi Order and the Galactic Republic. While the clones may be manufactured in a facility and given no choice in profession, they are also autonomous individuals. In Fives example viewers see that clones are living, breathing beings and should be treated as such.
The tension between depicting the clones as manufactured objects and living beings illuminates an important issue. If the clones are people who understand such concepts as self-identity, self-determination, and morality, and yet they are born into a life of service without any consideration of their own desires, should they be considered slaves? Slick, a clone trooper who hoped to gain his freedom by passing classified military information to the Separatists, accuses the Jedi Knights of just this thing. When Slick is ferreted out as a turncoat, he accuses the Jedi of treating the clones as slaves: “It’s the Jedi who keep my brothers enslaved. We do your bidding. We serve at your whim. I just wanted something more.”46 As Slicks delivers his indictment of the Jedi Order and the government of the Galactic Republic in the sixteenth episode of the first season, the question of slavery percolates in the minds of consistent viewers through the remainder of the series. Are the clones, despite their individuality, self-awareness, and struggles with autonomy, men or are they slaves? When a clone loses his life on the battlefield does he do so of his own volition? This complicated question surfaces numerous times over the course of several seasons.
Like the arguments pertaining to individuality and commodification, The Clone Wars also addresses the congressional concerns regarding family. One of the common representations put forth by The Clone Wars is that of the clones as a band of brothers displaying the social bonds of combat soldiers. The clones train together, eat together, bunk together, and fight together; they cover each other’s back, make sacrifices for each other, and live by a pledge to leave no clone beyond. That these bonds would be emphasized in a television show situated in a prolonged military campaign makes perfect sense. What I want to focus on in terms of social connection, however, is the degree to which the clones appear to address the congressional concerns about cloning and family structures. Grown in a hatchery and raised in the Kaminoan cloning facility, the clone troopers lack what many call a traditional family structure and receive much of their “parenting,” as many of the congressional debate participants feared, from scientists and military trainers. The few glimpses into the upbringing of clones suggests an environment not unlike that of a military school. The difference here, of course, is that there is no “home” for the clones to visit during breaks; military school is their home. Nevertheless, the Kamino cloning facility as a home is given serious treatment during the series, particularly when the facility comes under attack from General Grievous, Asajj Ventress, and the droid armies under their command. When Republic forces discover a plot to attack Kamino, Captain Rex and Commander Cody make it clear the upcoming confrontation is more than just another in a long list of battles. Captain Rex turns to General Skywalker and growls, “With all due respect general, if someone comes to our home, they better be carrying a big blaster.” Before anyone else can speak Commander Cody adds, “I concur with Captain Rex, sir. This is personal for us clones.”47 These brief comments are of particular note as the clones typically remain emotionally even keeled when speaking of upcoming military actions. This time, however, both Captain Rex and Commander Cody display an uncharacteristic emotional intensity; both officers want to defend their homeland. When the troopers of the 501st Legion arrive on Kamino, Echo and Fives stroll around the facility and reminisce fondly on their experiences as clone cadets. As the two pass a group of cadets Echo remarks, “Ah, look around Fives. Feels like yesterday we were here. Headin’ to target practice.” Fives chuckles as he responds, “Remember that?” Although a brief exchange between the two characters, the moment reveals the emotional connection the clone troopers have with the place of their birth. The cloning facility is not a home in the sense that most viewers understand the term, but the positive association with Kamino suggests clones will develop new, just as meaningful, understandings of home.
Just as the clone troopers prove capable of negotiating a new understanding of home, they also negotiate a unique family structure. For the most part, the clone troopers “home” experience is one devoid of a recognizable mother or father. A mother figure is completely absent—there are female scientists and engineers on Kamino but they never interact with the clones in a maternal role—and Jango Fett, the genetic “father” from whom all the troopers are cloned, is dead. Still, the clone troopers do manage to make meaningful connections in terms of interpersonal relationships. Yoda, for example, often refers to clone troopers as “friend” and Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker refer to Captain Rex and Commander Cody simply as “Rex” and “Cody.” In the case of Obi-Wan and Anakin, it’s clear they consider Rex and Cody more than military personnel under their command; the two clones are more than simple comrades in arms. They are, to the extent Jedi Knights are allowed to develop attachments, true friends. In this sense, the clones make relational connections similar to that of family.
The real familial connections occur, however, between the clones themselves. The clone troopers, as several of my previous examples attest, refer to one another as “brother” on a regular basis. They are, obviously, genetic brothers. As Fives reminds a group of young cadets who find themselves thrown into combat before their training is complete, “We’re one and the same. Same heart. Same blood. Your training is in your blood.” The portrayal of the clones as brothers goes beyond this obvious genetic connection and develops a sense of the troopers as siblings in a behavioral sense, too. The episode “Clone Cadets,” an episode featuring a group of five clones as they attempt to pass their final combat test and become full-fledged clone troopers, illustrates the emotional kinship.48 The clones of Domino Squad—Cutup, Droidbait, Echo, Fives, and Hevy—treat one another as familial brothers as they tease, encourage, and challenge one another throughout the training process. Droidbait’s name, for example, is a result of constant needling about his tendency to be the first member of the squad eliminated during training sessions. Echo and Hevy argue with one another about the squad’s lackluster performance, eventually resorting to a brief physical altercation in the barracks; a few hours later, the fight between the two is forgotten and the squad pulls together to complete the Citadel Challenge. And Cutup, as his apt name implies, annoys his brothers with constant wisecracks and his refusal to take anything too seriously. The various moments between the five squad members, and their continued interactions throughout the series (the troopers of Domino Squad, particularly Echo and Fives, become recurring characters), constitute a relationship familiar to many viewers. While adult viewers are no doubt familiar with the “band of brothers” ethos referenced within The Clone Wars, the representation of Domino Squad goes well beyond the bond between soldiers. How many viewers might reference their own altercations with a sister or reflect on the unrelenting annoyances of a goofy brother? In this way, the clone troopers represent more than military units or commodities, fighting together for common cause; they represent brothers in every sense of the word.
Further evidence of the relational theme is evident when older clones and younger clones interact in a way indicative of parent and child. Combat veterans offer advice to rookies (often referred to as “shinies” in reference to their brilliant white armor still unmarred by field conditions) or a word of encouragement to clone cadets. The parent/child relationship is most obvious in the interactions between 99, a malformed, hunchbacked clone relegated to cleaning and maintenance duty, and the members of Domino Squad, a group of five clones struggling to work as a team. Despite Domino Squad’s repeated failures, 99 always offers a kind word of encouragement and even comes to the squad’s defense when their Master Chief, Bric, dresses down the group as incompetent soldiers. None of the five squad members offers a defense but 99, standing off to the side and not directly subjected to Bric’s barking, speaks up and says, “You don’t give them enough credit.” After yet another humiliating failure on the training grounds, CT-782 packs up his gear and prepares to slip away in the middle of the night. 99, who happens to be working in the barracks, confronts CT-782 about going AWOL and dispenses much needed advice.
99: But, you can’t do this to your squad.
782: My squad? We’re nothing but a bad batch. Failures, like you.
99: Yeah, but, how can I be a failure, when I never even got my chance? It’s a chance you’re throwing away. You’re always trying to be the anchor, Hevy. You know, do it on your own. Well, maybe you should embrace the fact that you have a team. See, I never had that. But, you need them and they need you. Don’t carry such a heavy burden on your own. When you have your brothers at your side, Hevy.
782: Hevy? Stop calling me that! We’re just numbers, 99. Just numbers.
99: Not to me. To me you’ve always had a name.49
The inclusion of this particular scene speaks volumes about the way viewers are invited to think about clone relationships. The vast majority of the screen time devoted to clone troopers show them in combat; this scene, and the entire “Clone Cadets” episode, serves as a break in the typical The Clone Wars narrative structure. Rather than following the Jedi Knights and the clones in the context of the broader war, the scene focuses on the humanness of the clones and their ability to make deep, emotional connections with the people in their lives. Instead of offering admonishment and formal instruction, as the trainers of the clone cadets do, 99 speaks to CT-782 on a personal level. 99 refuses to identify Hevy as just another number (CT-782 adopts the name “Hevy” after this conversation), assures the struggling cadet he has value, and reminds Hevy that a Domino Squad committed to acting as a team has what it takes to complete clone training successfully. There is a degree of irony at work when 99, a clone whose adopted name is a number, reminds a clone cadet that his identity, his name, is not tied to a homogenizing, numerical designation. In a nod to the portrayal of clones as more than unthinking combat machines, Cameron Litvack, the writer of “Clone Cadets,” depicts 99 as the most human clone of them all.
As with other depictions of family, the conversation between 99 and Hevy is one most viewers have likely encountered elsewhere. The interaction between a supportive parent and struggling child occurs regularly across popular culture and, one would assume, is a moment most viewers have played out in their own lives. And that’s exactly why the moment between 99 and Hevy takes on crucial significance in the context of The Clone Wars. Grown from the DNA of a near perfect physical specimen, genetically modified to produce improved loyalty and creativity, the clones remain deeply human. Intensive training and education might mold them into superior soldiers but they retain the psychological needs of every person: emotional connection, compassion, and a sense of purpose. Born into circumstances where the idea of a nuclear family has no meaning, the clones constitute a new structure wherein the older clones provide support not only for one another but for the younger generation of clones, too. The idea of disparate family structures has particular relevance in the early twenty-first century as single parent households, blended families, same sex parenting, and families of choice become culturally accepted variations on the family theme.
Trying to parse out the complete cultural dialogue over human reproductive cloning would prove to be a nearly impossible task but examining the points of overlap, agreement, and contention between congressional debates and the namesake characters of The Clone Wars offers a glimpse into how members of the public are called to participate in the dialogic public square. The divergent viewpoints put forth by congress and The Clone Wars call on active viewers to engage in creative interpretation before reformulating their own utterances in the form of judgment and rearticulation. In other words, The Clone Wars presents audiences with ethical positions, and often conflicting positions, that they may accept, reject, and ultimately incorporate into their future understandings and conversations about human reproductive cloning. The congressional debates, for instance, raise concerns about human dignity, about the right of a person to consider herself a unique person in the entirety of the world. The congressional conversation posed several pertinent questions for spectators. What does it mean to be a unique individual? How does a society define individuality? Is individuality defined by biological uniqueness, as Congress seemed to suggest, or is individuality constituted by some combination of biological and psychological factors? Is biological uniqueness a fundamental dimension of being human? Is individuality, biological or psychological, a human necessity? Is individuality a human right? Although participants acknowledged that environment plays an important role in the development of individuality, congressional arguments focused largely on biology and provided little room for disagreement regarding uniqueness as a human right. Cloning, argues much of Congress, violates a cloned person’s right to individuality. Congressional consensus on the issue relegates differing opinions, and this includes those reading and watching the debates as participants in the larger public square, as irrelevant to the conversation or flat out wrong. In other words, the congressional conversation attempts to finalize the dialogue, something Bakhtin argues can never truly be accomplished. Congress also questions the potential for individuality and self-determination on the part of the clone. Does a clone ever escape the shadow of her progenitor or is she consigned to living a life that will never be her own?
The Clone Wars, on the other hand, presents the cloning controversy as one riddled with moral complexity. Not addressing the uniqueness of Jango Fett—the genetic template for the clone army is killed in Attack of the Clones and receives little more than passing mention in the series—The Clone Wars focuses on the clone troopers’ individuality and autonomy. As the clone troopers mature they manifest distinct personality traits, adopt specific stylistic innovations, and identify one another by name rather than number. Despite biological uniformity, a highly controlled physical environment, and intense psychological indoctrination, clone troopers develop distinguishable identities. At the same time, the life of a clone trooper is one that lacks any significant autonomy and self-determination; a clone is born and raised to serve as a combat soldier. Few clones seem to question their lot in life. But, as a handful of characters and storylines illustrate, not all clones serve with unwavering conviction. Clones such as Cut Lawquane and Slick, a deserter and turncoat, serve as narrative disruptions and suggest that an unquestionable commitment the Republic is not a notion held uniformly. The tension between self-identity and self-determination, explored through several recurring troopers who possess a strong sense of autonomy, mirrors one of the significant problematics of the human reproductive cloning controversy. To what degree is a clone her or his own person?
The unresolved tensions apparent in the series, and to a much lesser degree in congressional deliberations, result in what Brian Ott calls an “ambivalent frame.”50 In his discussion of Battlestar Galactica as allegory for a post–9/11 world, Ott describes the ambivalent frame as a form of narrative that invites the audience to explore the boundaries between conflicting positions. Immersed in the ever present tensions of the ambivalent frame, a viewer is drawn into collaborative engagement with the text and is positioned as a public arbiter who is, at the very least, called to consider divergent positions. The unresolvable conflict of an individual who lacks self-determination entreats the viewer to grapple with how to bring clarity to a morally murky position. Like the senators, representatives, and witnesses who participated in the congressional deliberations, as well as the authors of The Clone Wars, the viewer has a responsibility to wrestle with these various utterances and engage the questions posed during ongoing conversation. Addressed as a participant in the public square, the watching and listening individual has a responsibility to consider the allegorical implications of a cloned soldier who fights in war that may or may not make sense to him and connect those implications to the broader cultural dialogue. Thus, the plight of a fictional clone trooper appeals to a viewer’s moral sensibilities and challenges her to consider the dynamics of individuality and self-determination associated with the possibility, for example, of cloning a terminally ill loved one.
Similar contradictions surface when examining the viewpoints concerning commodification. The congressional debates raise a reasonable question: will individuals “manufactured” outside of natural conception or, to take it a step further, those produced for a specific purpose (e.g., organ transplant, combat soldier) be treated with the same dignity and respect as a person conceived naturally? The congressional position leaves no room for debate: people will exploit manufactured humans and this, in and of itself, warrants a federal ban on human reproductive cloning. The Clone Wars representation of the clone troopers as commodities reinforces this position as a legitimate concern. The clones are, in many ways, depicted as manufactured goods; assembled in a factory and shipped off to various parts of the galaxy, the clone troopers serve as disposable cogs in the Republic war machine. At the same time, however, The Clone Wars complicates the viewpoint by suggesting that clones are not simple commodities to be exploited or cast off indiscriminately. The troopers remind one another, as well as their superior officers, that they are more than replaceable parts—they are men, not numbers—and should not be deployed haphazardly. Clone troopers are not the unthinking automatons of the droid army but beings of emotional depth capable of forging meaningful relationships outside the context of battle.
In a direct contrast to the congressional consideration of cloned individuals, the portrayal of troopers as developing a family structure reinforces their presence as affective beings possessing the relational agency to create and maintain intense interpersonal relationships. As mentioned earlier, congressional interlocutors warned of the dire consequences posed by what they described as a radical rethinking of family. Although never able to detail direct harms, Congress questioned whether the absence of a traditional family structure might impact a clone psychologically? Would she or he experience a sense of incompleteness in the absence of an identifiable father, mother, or both? Likewise, what are the long-term cultural effects resulting from the absence of traditional family structure? The speculative fiction of The Clone Wars challenges these contentions, contentions resonating with the more recent political debates regarding the threat posed by marriage equality and same sex parenting (particularly in relation to adoption and adoption laws), and presents a different set of possibilities. The story arcs spotlighting Captain Rex or ARC Trooper Fives invite viewers to entertain the possibility that clones, like individuals in contemporary society who manage to negotiate single parent families, blended families, and families of choice, might be quite capable of forging new family structures as well. The Clone Wars representation of human reproductive cloning simultaneously reinforces family as a fundamental human need and challenges the normative image of the traditional nuclear family.
These continuous references to individuality, self-determination, and humanity problematize the clone troopers as primary combat soldiers in the war against the Separatists. On the one hand, the clones serve the public good, defending and liberating citizens of the Galactic Republic. On the other hand, the clone troopers find themselves trapped in a form of slavery; forced to further a political agenda that is not of their own choosing, they fight and die for the Republic cause. Watching this contradiction unfold, viewers are called to participate as responsible rhetorical actors. Is the creation of a subservient subclass justifiable if it serves the greater public good? Even if the enslavement of clones is amoral, as is suggested by several episodes, does a culture suspend a degree of morality in order to maintain the security of the majority? At first glance, the idea that a culture might sanction the deployment of a disposable being in the name of the public good might seem outrageous. However, if The Clone Wars is positioned as an exploration of political controversy during a time of war, these tensions are not unfamiliar to post–9/11 U.S. Americans who frequently situate military campaigns in Afghanistan and Iraq as actions necessary to protect freedom, democracy, and other national interests. Taking the cultural context into consideration, the symbolization of the clone trooper evokes comparisons with the modern U.S. American soldier who, guided by dress code regulations, proscribed procedures for almost every situation, and a military code of ethics, is “engineered” to look alike, think alike, and act alike. The contemporary soldier is, in a figurative sense, cloned. With this in mind, the ethical dilemma posed by The Clone Wars relates directly to the foreign policy debates of the twenty-first century. To what degree are U.S. American constituents, and their congressional representatives, willing to sacrifice “cloned” soldiers to protect national interests? Does the deep humanness suggested by The Clone Wars offer a compelling moral argument to not only consider the ethical implications of human cloning but also give increased consideration to the deployment of combat soldiers? I don’t want to overstate my case here and suggest that the depiction of clone troopers calls on viewers to support isolationism. What I do want to argue is that The Clone Wars asks viewers to remember that an individual person—a daughter, a son, a mother, a father, a sister, or a brother—inhabits the ambiguous idea of “Support Our Troops” and lives within the military uniform.
The specific ethical questions aside, The Clone Wars displays a strong Bakhtinian double-voicedness less prominent in the congressional deliberations. According to Bakhtin, double-voiced discourse “serves two speakers at the same time and expresses simultaneously two different intentions: the direct intention of the character who is speaking, and the refracted intention of the author.”51 In the case of The Clone Wars, the clone troopers speak for themselves within the context of the narrative at hand; they illustrate the tensions at work in their own lives. They also speak with a voice charged by the relevant perceptions of human cloning as understood by the animators, writers, and directors of the series. Intentional or not, the collaborative artistic efforts of those involved with creating The Clone Wars draw on previous dialogic utterances, like the ongoing deliberations in Congress, to make sense of both their world and the science fantasy realm of the Star Wars universe. As participants in a mediated dialogue, viewers encounter these double-voiced discourses replete with all the associated issues, concerns, dissonances, and assonances. Science fiction informs congressional debate, congressional debate informs The Clone Wars, and The Clone Wars informs viewers. The viewer then integrates the ethical quandaries offered by the various characters and narrative arcs as part of her own creative interpretation and draws on those understandings when addressing issues of cloning and biotechnology as they arise in her own life. The viewpoints presented by the multiple, heterogeneous voices of The Clone Wars call her to become a dialogic participant in the ongoing cultural discourse. In some respects, the individual viewer becomes a kind of discursive cloner in her or his own right, a participant in the dialogic public square who replicates the DNA of previous utterances within new contexts.