James Rocha and Mona Rocha
When the Jedi betrayed Ahsoka Tano, it established beyond any doubt that the Jedi aren't as morally superior as they may wish to believe. This betrayal occurred when the Jedi Council, over objections from Anakin Skywalker and Obi‐Wan Kenobi, handed Ahsoka to Republic authorities while ignoring the possibility that she was innocent. The fact that the Jedi relented to the demands of Admiral Tarkin instead of supporting one of their own is just one example of the serious moral predicaments of the Jedi during the Clone Wars.1 Of course, the very authority that the Jedi respect during this period is under the leadership – unbeknownst to them – of the Sith Lord Darth Sidious. In siding with him, the Jedi are supporting the creation of an evil Empire that will eventually murder almost all of them. By looking at one moment, prior to Order 66, when the Jedi betrayed Ahsoka Tano, we get a glimpse into the larger moral failures of Jedi ethics.
We must celebrate Ahsoka for leaving the Jedi in such dark times. In doing so, she prioritizes justice over blind faith in an authority that happened to be evil. Ahsoka recognizes that obtaining her autonomy means she could not follow the orders of persons who insist on being called “master.” Jedi ethics are flawed because they submit to the demands of hierarchy. Hierarchy in its many forms – whether on the job, in government, or even within a Star Wars fan club – makes demands due to its very nature. People above you in a hierarchy expect you'll listen to them just because they are above you. We cannot avoid hierarchy: like the Force, it's all around us. But morality requires us to follow our duty regardless of what so‐called superior figures demand. That means that when something morally significant is at stake, we should not blindly follow hierarchy, but rather must make sure we check the dictates of moral duty. The Jedi ignore this lesson. They serve the Senate, and thereby Chancellor Sheev Palpatine. At key moments when morality would tell the Jedi to proceed more cautiously, they instead give in to the demands of power that come from higher up in the hierarchy.
The Jedi claim to have an impartial system of ethics based on their advanced ability to rise above their feelings, but rising above your feelings is not enough to be impartial. Impartiality also demands that the Jedi ignore their place in larger hierarchical systems, such as their relation to the Senate, or, in one powerful interpretation of what the Senate actually is, Chancellor Palpatine.
Like the droid Russo‐ISC in The Clone Wars episode “Sabotage,” we must begin by analyzing the crime scene. When the Jedi Temple is bombed, suspicions immediately turn toward the possibility of a Jedi culprit. While Ahsoka initially doubts a Jedi could've been responsible, Anakin explains, “Not every Jedi agrees with this war.” We later see the family and friends of workers in the Temple protesting the war and the violence they associate with the Jedi. While the Jedi present themselves as “keepers of the peace,” they are also generals leading a galaxy‐wide war, bringing violence and destruction to pretty much every planet they visit.
Initially, it appears that Letta Turmond bombed the Temple by feeding explosive nano‐droids to her husband, Jackar Bowmani, who had access to the Temple as a munitions expert. Tarkin convinces Anakin and Ahsoka that it makes perfect sense for Letta's trial to be held under military jurisdiction, arguing that clone soldiers died in the bombing; an attack on the Jedi is an attack on the Senate; and the suspect wasn't a Jedi. It's troubling that the Jedi go along with this plan: as Ahsoka argues, it should've been handled as a Jedi matter. Regardless, Letta is arrested by the Republic military and Ahsoka's objections are swept aside. The Jedi give up their responsibility to investigate much too easily, simply letting Tarkin take over. The Jedi are agents of the Senate, and Tarkin speaks on behalf of the Senate; in other words, they are merely adhering to their place in the hierarchy.
As Tarkin further adds, “The Chancellor feels very strongly that the Jedi be removed from as many military matters as possible. You yourselves said that you're peacekeepers, not soldiers” (“The Jedi Who Knew Too Much”). In acquiescing, the Jedi are merely playing their roles in the matter, but not as peacekeepers. The Jedi cannot claim to be peacekeepers if they so easily defer to the military authority on important moral matters. This blind acceptance of hierarchy becomes even more problematic when Ahsoka is later charged.
One way in which reliance on hierarchy can cause moral trouble is when it's allowed to overtake other moral values. This arc in The Clone Wars showcases various questions of trust. As we transition from the Jedi turning over Letta, who did confess, we see the Jedi continuing to prioritize the demands of hierarchy even when they imperil their relationship of trust with one of their own, Ahsoka Tano.
Ahsoka is the only person in the room when Letta's murdered in “The Jedi Who Knew Too Much.” Ahsoka is quickly accused not only of being the murderer, but also of being the mastermind behind the Temple bombing. Consequently, in “To Catch a Jedi,” the Jedi Council struggle to maintain trust in Ahsoka as the evidence seems to build against her. Even Anakin must confront his trust in Ahsoka when she insists on running. She sees no reason to trust the Jedi Council, other than perhaps Anakin, when the evidence is stacked against her. Unfortunately, Anakin orders her to go back to the Jedi Council instead. In this moment, Anakin is still fully trusting the Council. Ahsoka, though, is right that the Council does not deserve her trust. Ahsoka disobeys her master's order and looks for someone she can fully trust. These are strange times when Asajj Ventress is the most trustworthy person around!
Annette Baier (1929–2012) explains that trust can be quite confusing, as it's partially rational, but also based on feelings.2 Extending trust is rational in the sense that evidence can go a long way to help determine who ought and ought not to be trusted. But at some point, the demands of trust must go beyond what the evidence shows. When you trust someone, you count on them to do something they have not yet done, or not to do something they should not. At the point when evidence cannot tell you what'll happen, trust is determined by your feelings.
Ahsoka trusts Ventress not to betray her, but does not trust the Jedi Council. Ahsoka cannot be certain what others will do, but knows that the Jedi Council members are rule‐followers, even when those rules come from questionable sources like Palpatine or Tarkin. Yet, Ahsoka cannot be sure the Jedi would actually betray her. Trust concerns the unknown, and you cannot rationally be certain about what's unknown. You must listen to your feelings, and Ahsoka clearly does not feel good about the Jedi Council.
Since you cannot know what will happen when you trust others, you are vulnerable to what might happen from trusting them.3 Ahsoka feels safer opening herself to Ventress, of all people, rather than the Jedi Council. She's right to do so, based, in large part, on the evidence that Ventress knows the feeling of betrayal from the Battle of Sullust. There, her own master, Count Dooku, turned on her. In agreeing to help, Ventress makes herself vulnerable by trusting Ahsoka, which later gets her in trouble – trust is never a guarantee.4 The Jedi Council, on the other hand, prove themselves unworthy of Ahsoka's trust, as they end up turning her over.
The Jedi Council places more value on playing their part in hierarchical political and military systems than trusting one of their own. Once Anakin catches Ahsoka and brings her before the Jedi Council in “The Wrong Jedi,” it becomes clear that the Council will not give Ahsoka a fair chance. Mace Windu and Yoda make clear that they have already decided, along with the majority of the Council, to expel Ahsoka from the Order and hand her over to the military authorities, just as they'd done with Letta before. Ahsoka's innocent, of course, which is obvious to anyone who's been paying attention during the Clone Wars. How are the illustrious members of the Jedi Council so easily duped, both by Barriss Offee, the actual culprit, and by Darth Sidious?
The answer lies in their repudiation of their feelings. The Jedi's claim to ethical impartiality is due in large part to their denial of their feelings. Yet, feelings can be guides to what's ethically important. Fear and anger – to name two feelings the Jedi attempt to rise above – can be essential warning signs to potential moral quandaries. Fear tells Ahsoka to flee because she's afraid the Jedi Council will betray her, and the feeling leads her well in this regard. Anakin's anger at the Council's betrayal of Ahsoka motivates his pursuit of the real killer, whom he eventually finds.
Eventually, however, Anakin's anger creates a wee bit of a problem for the galaxy, but only because he loses control over his anger. Our emotions definitely make our moral problems worse when we let them take us over. But when we treat our emotions as guides to what's morally important, we can constructively rely on them. Yet, we cannot allow our emotions to be decisive, as we should always strive to act according to reasons regardless of what our emotions try to compel us to do. Ahsoka feels trusting toward Ventress, even though Ventress is a fairly evil person. But Ahsoka also plans around her trust by offering to help Ventress get a pardon and warning her not to kill when they fight the clones. Thus, feelings aren't the main problem for acting ethically. It's certainly true that we have to limit our feelings in the pursuit of impartiality and only listen to them as guides. Yet, merely constraining feelings in these ways does not ensure someone will be morally good.
Another key step to impartiality is found in recognizing that moral duties must be prioritized over hierarchical demands. When the Jedi hand over Ahsoka to Tarkin, they reduce the morally ambiguous situation to the fact that it's their job to serve the Senate, as represented by Tarkin. Tarkin wants to put Ahsoka on trial because he believes that the Jedi have a biased attachment to Ahsoka. But the Jedi should be biased and provide Ahsoka a trial within the system she consensually joined. The Jedi, however, prioritize their place within the larger system of the Republic, instead of trusting the person they know. It's always a challenge, and sometimes dangerous, to deny requests and orders from within a hierarchical system. If the Jedi were to refuse Tarkin's demand for Ahsoka, this could cause significant tension between them and the Senate.
The Jedi default to the system because they accept their social position within the hierarchy. Iris Marion Young (1949–2006) argues that we all inhabit a variety of social positions or roles that define our relationships to each other in society. These positions often constrain what we do, but they also provide us opportunities.5 Positions and factors include not only race, gender, and sexuality, but also our career choices, hobbies, political positions, religions, and so on. The Jedi play key roles not only in the greater galactic society, but also in the war that Palpatine is secretly orchestrating. The Jedi could refuse to accept what the hierarchy demands of them, but doing so would require them to abandon their social roles.
It's because the Jedi embrace their honored social positions that they are so easily manipulated. Hierarchy, by its very nature, sends demands, typically without reasons, downward. We must do our jobs, and in doing our jobs, it's necessary that we tell ourselves that those above us know what they are doing when they direct us in a questionable way. Of course, those higher up rarely have to prove themselves to those below. It would feel natural to the Jedi to follow orders in their social roles supporting the Senate and serving the Chancellor. And when morality is involved, it's much easier to simply assume the hierarchy is not abusing us than to check things out for ourselves. But, it is worth noting that this approach results in lazy thinking and could lead to trouble down the road. And in this case, the Jedi simply follow Palpatine's lead and accept Tarkin's demands, instead of doing their own work to figure out what's really morally required of them.
Ahsoka, starting in “The Wrong Jedi,” walks a different path – a path we can now identify as one of moral autonomy.6 An agent has moral autonomy when she ensures that she makes moral decisions for herself – and does not merely defer to the authority of others. Moral autonomy also requires that she acts according to her best judgment of what moral duty requires of her. The idea of moral autonomy is historically rooted in the thinking of Immanuel Kant (1724–1804), who felt one of the main challenges of moral theory was to explain why moral duty has a stronger claim on us than anything else. Kant's answer is that moral duty derives from our ability to reason about our intentions and actions. So when morality tells you what to do, it's really you (your reason) telling yourself what to do. When you accept the moral law, you have autonomy because you are following rules that you are giving to yourself. On the other hand, when you follow interests that aren't derived from reason, like the commands of others, then you are acting heteronomously, which is the opposite of acting autonomously.7
The Jedi partially forego their moral autonomy by merely following direction from the Chancellor and the Senate, especially in matters of violence where so much is morally at stake. This moral forfeiture would be a problem even if the Chancellor did not turn out to be a Sith Lord. When you let others make morally significant decisions on your behalf, you just cannot be sure they aren't Sith Lords. So you should never hand over your moral decision‐making to anyone.
Ahsoka walks away from the Jedi Order, but she does not say she's leaving because the Order betrayed her. She does not seem to blame them at all. Instead, as Ahsoka explains to Anakin, “I have to sort this out on my own, without the Council, and without you.” In other words, the violence, the war, and the killing in which the Jedi are wrapped up presents a set of serious moral problems. If they are justified in their actions, then they are fine. If they are not justified, then the Jedi are seriously bad people. And, as Luke Skywalker laments in The Last Jedi, the Jedi aren't justified in what they do during the Clone Wars.
Ahsoka realizes she has to make her own decisions about grave moral matters, such as fighting in a war that serves an increasingly autocratic hierarchy. Hence, she only chooses violence when she can confirm for herself that it's absolutely justified – as when she confronts Imperial magistrate Morgan Elsbeth on Corvus in The Mandalorian episode “The Jedi.” Ahsoka walks away from the Jedi Order, but in doing so, she walks toward her own moral autonomy.
Though this is Ahsoka's story, it's not hers alone. Ahsoka's growth coincides with Anakin's fall. Anakin shares Ahsoka's concerns, but he falls into heteronomy by putting his concern for Padmé above more important considerations and by pledging himself to Sidious's dark side teachings instead of asserting his own moral autonomy.
As Anakin tells Ahsoka in “The Wrong Jedi,” “More than you realize, I understand wanting to walk away from the Order.” Anakin also does not feel the Jedi Council is as wise and perfect as they may seem. A significant part of Anakin's realization occurs the moment he comprehends Ahsoka's hearing is a mere formality. The Council wasn't giving Ahsoka a fair chance, and Anakin cannot help but be disappointed. Anakin's anger guides him to track down Ventress and later the real killer, Barriss Offee. But he does not limit his anger and instead uses Darth Vader's signature move, the Force choke. It may not be the first time Anakin has used that dark side move, but its use signifies that Anakin's starting to turn. It also signifies that Anakin's turn to the dark side is motivated by his unconstrained love for three women: his familial love for his mother, his romantic love for his wife, and his brotherly love for Ahsoka.8
So why does Anakin not end up gaining autonomy, as Ahsoka does? Although Anakin is growing disappointed with the Jedi, he still reaches out for the comfort of a role within the hierarchy. Anakin does not reject social positions that conflict with his moral autonomy, but merely seeks a different but similar social position. Anakin pushes Ahsoka to trust the system. And even though Anakin's disappointed with the Council, he fully expects and hopes for Ahsoka's return to the Order. While Anakin sees the imperfections of the Jedi Council, he still needs the ease of having moral decisions made for him from up high. Anakin seeks a passive social position, which he finds at the side of Palpatine, as in our final view of him at the end of Revenge of the Sith.