Post by Jinsei on Jan 17, 2008 22:02:01 GMT -5
Their Fire Has Vanished: Power, Elitism and the Fall of the Jedi
By Douglas Boyce
Special to SPACE.com
posted: 07:08 am ET
29 April 2000
Few would deny that having the Force in their pocket lets Jedi Knights carry around extra large cans of whoop-ass.
It takes just two Jedi to wreak havoc on the Trade Guild's warship in The Phantom Menace, and it's likely that feats like this account for much of the respect they are afforded in the Old Republic.
For all the Force tricks and saberplay, Jedi doctrine prohibits individual Knights from using "tricks of the Force" for personal gain -- at least in theory.
In a Lucas nod to the Buddhist idea of the suppression of personal desire, Qui-Gon repeatedly refers to the "will of the Force" as a drive that supersedes the individual will. Even in the midst of combat, Qui-Gon exhorts his students about "listening to the living Force," or in the older Obi-wan's words, "let[ting] go your conscious mind, and rely[ing] on instinct."
That's the theory, but individual Jedi seem to have a little trouble putting it into practice.
The only Jedi that seems to pay more than lip service to this idea is Qui-Gon, and he ends up dead, after ensuring the training of the boy who will eventually destroy the Order.
Time and again, we see Jedi driven by desire: Qui-Gon to discover (and train) the Chosen One, Yoda to maintain and project the Jedi Order's position of privilege in the Republic, and, for the young Obi-Wan and Luke, to participate in the rarefied world of the Force.
When these personal goals conflict with the goals of the Force, the Force always wins. And sadly, the Force needs the Jedi far less than they need it.
Above the Senate, the Temple
Despite their lip service to following the Force wherever it leads them, the Jedi at the height of their social influence -- The Phantom Menace -- spend a lot more time chasing matters of doctrine than anything else.
While Palpatine rises, the Jedi seem busier retreating from the everyday life of the Old Republic, setting themselves apart from and above the masses.
Jedi are chosen at an early age and taken away from their families, cutting or at least weakening the bonds of blood and class that tie ordinary people to the people around them.
The films are ominously silent on whether Jedi are allowed to marry -- the only evidence of Jedi love we have so far is Anakin Skywalker, and we all know where he's headed.
Mundane affairs seem to be beneath their unworldly notice unless the taint of the Sith -- the smell of heresy -- is involved. Outside the Temple, Jedi mutter among themselves, rarely taking notice of those less Force-endowed except to cheat, wheedle and manipulate to achieve their ends.
Young Obi-Wan's overt racism is only the most obvious sign of this elitist attitude-- while we might hate Jar Jar, classing the CGI character as a "lower life form" is hardly the hallmark of an enlightened sage.
Qui-Gon's offhanded assertion that he "didn't come here to free slaves" is also troubling. Although Liam Neeson delivers the line with a certain weariness -- is this a sore spot for the vagabond master? -- it also reveals the Order's priorities.
The wages of retreat
This policy of slow withdrawal from public life and political discourse succeeds too well over the course of the Star Wars saga.
Menace opens with the Jedi as powerful assistants to the Chancellor, almost an elite secret police force.
A few decades and films later, all surviving trained Force users, Jedi and Sith alike, are cloistered in the second Death Star, effectively removed from the resolution of the battle -- and the progress of history.
Shortly after Yoda, who withdrew from active life a generation previously, surrenders his body, Luke himself admits that he can no longer remain with his "friends on the forest moon."
For the good of the Rebellion, the last Jedi -- the man who led the Rebellion in its first major victory against the Empire -- must join his fellow Force users in seclusion.
His father follows a similar path to irrelevance. Over Naboo, despite his lack of training as a pilot or as a Jedi, he destroys the Trade Guild's mothership, frustrating the immediate plans of the Sith. Years later he is still able to participate in the battle at Yavin, but his attentions are limited to Luke -- "I'll take the leader."
And at the end, he too joins Luke and Palpatine in the space station. History has left the one-time "guardians of peace and justice in the Old Republic" and their shadowy doctrinal adversaries playing with swords while the real battle rages outside
A galaxy for everyone
In this light, Lando, Han, Leia and even the overlooked Wedge Antilles change from secondary characters in the margins of the saga to interesting alternatives to the Jedi cosmos.
Lando and Han are gamblers, relying on hunches and luck, and succeeding in commerce and combat.
Obi-Wan and Yoda discuss using Leia as a spare Luke, but she triumphs at Endor through love and combat, diplomacy and guile. Her "mind tricks" are subtle and largely limited to charming the Ewoks -- feats available to anyone, no Jedi training required.
Wedge is particularly interesting, since one of the main criteria for Jedi potential is piloting ability. The pod race is proof enough for Qui-Gon that "there's something about" Anakin, and a generation later Obi-Wan hears of Luke's piloting skills.
On the other hand, Wedge is apparently a fine pilot like all these nascent Jedi types, but makes a powerful contribution to the fight against the Empire without benefit of esoteric training.
In fact, we should remember that Anakin and Luke have their first major successes as combat pilots and, accordingly, as players on the galacto-political stage, before they begin their training. After Yavin, Luke begins down the path of gnosis and irrelevance; Anakin will likely chart a similar course.
Besides, how much does Force training benefit anyone in the long term? Anybody can have a "bad feeling" and still participate in the world, while Jedi membership only seems to cut the Force "elite" off from the flow of events.
When it's all over, were the "hokey religions and ancient weapons ... no match for a good blaster at your side"?
www.space.com/sciencefiction/movies/dirty_mind_tricks_000428.html
By Douglas Boyce
Special to SPACE.com
posted: 07:08 am ET
29 April 2000
Few would deny that having the Force in their pocket lets Jedi Knights carry around extra large cans of whoop-ass.
It takes just two Jedi to wreak havoc on the Trade Guild's warship in The Phantom Menace, and it's likely that feats like this account for much of the respect they are afforded in the Old Republic.
For all the Force tricks and saberplay, Jedi doctrine prohibits individual Knights from using "tricks of the Force" for personal gain -- at least in theory.
In a Lucas nod to the Buddhist idea of the suppression of personal desire, Qui-Gon repeatedly refers to the "will of the Force" as a drive that supersedes the individual will. Even in the midst of combat, Qui-Gon exhorts his students about "listening to the living Force," or in the older Obi-wan's words, "let[ting] go your conscious mind, and rely[ing] on instinct."
That's the theory, but individual Jedi seem to have a little trouble putting it into practice.
The only Jedi that seems to pay more than lip service to this idea is Qui-Gon, and he ends up dead, after ensuring the training of the boy who will eventually destroy the Order.
Time and again, we see Jedi driven by desire: Qui-Gon to discover (and train) the Chosen One, Yoda to maintain and project the Jedi Order's position of privilege in the Republic, and, for the young Obi-Wan and Luke, to participate in the rarefied world of the Force.
When these personal goals conflict with the goals of the Force, the Force always wins. And sadly, the Force needs the Jedi far less than they need it.
Above the Senate, the Temple
Despite their lip service to following the Force wherever it leads them, the Jedi at the height of their social influence -- The Phantom Menace -- spend a lot more time chasing matters of doctrine than anything else.
While Palpatine rises, the Jedi seem busier retreating from the everyday life of the Old Republic, setting themselves apart from and above the masses.
Jedi are chosen at an early age and taken away from their families, cutting or at least weakening the bonds of blood and class that tie ordinary people to the people around them.
The films are ominously silent on whether Jedi are allowed to marry -- the only evidence of Jedi love we have so far is Anakin Skywalker, and we all know where he's headed.
Mundane affairs seem to be beneath their unworldly notice unless the taint of the Sith -- the smell of heresy -- is involved. Outside the Temple, Jedi mutter among themselves, rarely taking notice of those less Force-endowed except to cheat, wheedle and manipulate to achieve their ends.
Young Obi-Wan's overt racism is only the most obvious sign of this elitist attitude-- while we might hate Jar Jar, classing the CGI character as a "lower life form" is hardly the hallmark of an enlightened sage.
Qui-Gon's offhanded assertion that he "didn't come here to free slaves" is also troubling. Although Liam Neeson delivers the line with a certain weariness -- is this a sore spot for the vagabond master? -- it also reveals the Order's priorities.
The wages of retreat
This policy of slow withdrawal from public life and political discourse succeeds too well over the course of the Star Wars saga.
Menace opens with the Jedi as powerful assistants to the Chancellor, almost an elite secret police force.
A few decades and films later, all surviving trained Force users, Jedi and Sith alike, are cloistered in the second Death Star, effectively removed from the resolution of the battle -- and the progress of history.
Shortly after Yoda, who withdrew from active life a generation previously, surrenders his body, Luke himself admits that he can no longer remain with his "friends on the forest moon."
For the good of the Rebellion, the last Jedi -- the man who led the Rebellion in its first major victory against the Empire -- must join his fellow Force users in seclusion.
His father follows a similar path to irrelevance. Over Naboo, despite his lack of training as a pilot or as a Jedi, he destroys the Trade Guild's mothership, frustrating the immediate plans of the Sith. Years later he is still able to participate in the battle at Yavin, but his attentions are limited to Luke -- "I'll take the leader."
And at the end, he too joins Luke and Palpatine in the space station. History has left the one-time "guardians of peace and justice in the Old Republic" and their shadowy doctrinal adversaries playing with swords while the real battle rages outside
A galaxy for everyone
In this light, Lando, Han, Leia and even the overlooked Wedge Antilles change from secondary characters in the margins of the saga to interesting alternatives to the Jedi cosmos.
Lando and Han are gamblers, relying on hunches and luck, and succeeding in commerce and combat.
Obi-Wan and Yoda discuss using Leia as a spare Luke, but she triumphs at Endor through love and combat, diplomacy and guile. Her "mind tricks" are subtle and largely limited to charming the Ewoks -- feats available to anyone, no Jedi training required.
Wedge is particularly interesting, since one of the main criteria for Jedi potential is piloting ability. The pod race is proof enough for Qui-Gon that "there's something about" Anakin, and a generation later Obi-Wan hears of Luke's piloting skills.
On the other hand, Wedge is apparently a fine pilot like all these nascent Jedi types, but makes a powerful contribution to the fight against the Empire without benefit of esoteric training.
In fact, we should remember that Anakin and Luke have their first major successes as combat pilots and, accordingly, as players on the galacto-political stage, before they begin their training. After Yavin, Luke begins down the path of gnosis and irrelevance; Anakin will likely chart a similar course.
Besides, how much does Force training benefit anyone in the long term? Anybody can have a "bad feeling" and still participate in the world, while Jedi membership only seems to cut the Force "elite" off from the flow of events.
When it's all over, were the "hokey religions and ancient weapons ... no match for a good blaster at your side"?
www.space.com/sciencefiction/movies/dirty_mind_tricks_000428.html
