THE TAKE AWAY
The Allegories of Star Wars: The Force Awakens
By Kersley Fitzgerald
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There once was a family that lived in the outreaches of a caliphate. The parents had been involved in an uprising that led to the country becoming more moderate, but the authoritarian regime rose again, and they had to lie low. They saw a lot of potential in their young son, so they sent him to the madrassa run by his uncle. His uncle is devout, but fully dedicated to peace.
It's unclear how, exactly, the young son was radicalized. He spent much time away from his parents, and although his uncle cared for him, their relationship was built more on education and discipline than love. It could be that the boy saw the rise of the caliphate and realized that his uncle's brand of religion would lead to nothing but struggle and sacrifice. That a life of real power and position was only with the caliphate. The Caliph singled him out and eventually drew him out of his uncle's madrassa. The boy went willingly, although he was still somewhat torn. It was rumored that as a show of loyalty, the boy bombed the madrassa, killing the young students. His parents were heartbroken to the point that his father abandoned his mother. His uncle was so devastated he shut down his school and disappeared.
This caliphate is known for taking children from their parents and raising them to serve the Caliph. One such young man was promoted from laborer to soldier. On his first mission, when he was ordered to kill everyone in a small village, he realized he didn't have the stomach for it. His supervisor noticed his hesitancy, but before he could be sent for reconditioning he found a prisoner — a resistance soldier — scheduled for execution. He rescued the prisoner who in turn agreed to help him escape.
The deserter knew only two things: the caliphate was evil, and he needed to get as far away as possible. He would not kill for them, and he would not be taken prisoner. He didn't care where he went or how much he had to lie, he just needed to get away. The soldier and the deserter became separated, and the deserter escaped the caliphate's reach only with the help of a young woman.
The young woman was a bit of an enigma. Like most in her village, she was a secularist and had no love for the caliphate. Her family had left her in relative safety when she was a child, promising to return when they could. She still held out hope they would come back for her, and left only when the deserter told her he needed her to get information to the resistance — information that could lead to the destruction of the caliphate. Through a sequence of events, the young woman not only got the information to the right hands, her acceptance turned the heart of the deserter. He became a willing participant in the resistance against the caliphate as his fear was replaced with a deeper sense of purpose.
I don't know if the writers of Star Wars: The Force Awakens intended for the plot to be an allegory of personal struggles of the Middle East, but it certainly came out that way. The radicalized son of a moderate family, unable to accept that a peaceful life is good enough. A political asylum-seeker, fleeing for his life, willing to do anything to get away, not necessarily thinking about where he's going or caring what he'll have to do to stay safe. And a young woman, waiting for something better, who has to decide whether to hold onto that dream or give it all up to do what's right and help the people in her path.
In the office, we've been having discussions about how much people like standards. We like to have a set of rules to follow that will ensure we're doing it right and will earn us a pat on the head at the end of the day. Some turn to radical Islam; others turn to radical homeschooling. What was it that drew Kylo Ren — not only to the dark side, but to a hyper-legalistic lifestyle? Was it the structure? What pull did Snoke have that Luke and Han didn't? What is it that draws kids from moderate Islamic — or even secular — families into ISIS? How do we reach them before it's too late? Before they metaphorically kill their fathers and dedicate themselves to law and violence and hate?
The biggest arguments in recent weeks have been about the "Finns" of the world. We won't get too many Finns in America; he is a fugitive migrant, not a fully-vetted refugee. But I wonder how many of us would have the courage to be like Finn. To escape a decent life working for a horrific regime, knowing that to leave is to put a price on your head. How many young men have fled Syria when they realized they'd be forced to fight? How desperate are they? In a way, the Rebels had it easier, because Finn is a fictional character and can prove his loyalty in a few hours. But how do real people escape such circumstances and learn to adapt to a new way of life?
I think most of us would identify more with Rey. She's living day-to-day, waiting for something better, not really willing to go out of her way to make a splash if it requires disrupting her life too much. Even after she makes the sacrifice to help Finn, she wants to go back. I see that in myself quite a bit. I'm willing to help others if I can still go home at night, return to the familiar, and wait for the good life that I have planned. I may even help someone who was once an enemy. But only for a while. What would it take for me to give up everything for the right thing?
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