Jason T. Eberl
“Saw, they've come for us!” Fearful, but determined, Lyra Erso informs a long‐time friend in the Rebel Alliance, Saw Gerrera, that the Empire has come for her family – specifically, for her husband, Galen. While Galen sends their daughter, Jyn, away to a secret hiding place on the backwater world they've made their home, Lyra can't stand by and let the Empire take her husband away. Unaware that Galen has just lied about her having died some time ago, Lyra appears and holds her husband's former friend and colleague, Orson Krennic, at blaster‐point. Her conscience won't permit her to let the Empire do whatever it wants to her family and, by using them, to the rest of the galaxy. Yet her courage is rewarded with a blaster‐bolt in her chest; as darkness forever obscures her consciousness, at least she knows she did all she could to stop the Empire's tyranny. So we wonder what she'd think of what her husband does next: Galen goes with Krennic – albeit reluctantly – to help finish constructing the most lethal weapon of mass destruction the galaxy has known: the Death Star.
Galen's choice to assist Krennic prompts the question of whether he's morally culpable for the millions of voices that “suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced” on Alderaan. After all, he designed the Death Star's primary weapon with knowledge of how to manipulate kyber crystals to enhance energy output. Thirteen years later, with the Death Star now operational and about to be unleashed on an unsuspecting galaxy, Galen recruits an Imperial cargo pilot, Bodhi Rook, to carry a warning to Saw and Jyn. Galen claims he knew the Empire would be able to finish the weapon without him; instead of refusing to work or taking his own life, he used the opportunity to create a design flaw that would permit a carefully aimed proton torpedo to cause a chain reaction that would destroy the Death Star. Does this mean that Galen was actually a silent hero of the Rebellion, someone Lyra could've been proud of? Or is he complicit in the deaths that occur on Jedha, Scarif, and Alderaan, and did he thus suffer a poetically justified death by Rebel bombs on Eadu as a war criminal?
Utilitarian ethics, focusing only on the net consequences of an action, would likely conclude that Galen did the right thing, ultimately saving many more lives than those lost and helping to free the galaxy from the Empire's tyranny. That positive outcome, however, also required Luke Skywalker to successfully hit a two‐meter‐wide exhaust port – the odds of which even C‐3PO probably couldn't have calculated. So maybe Galen was simply the beneficiary of moral luck. For this reason, non‐utilitarians would argue that Galen's contribution to the Death Star's malevolence negates his moral integrity. Unlike Krennic and Grand Moff Tarkin, he isn't the type of person who'd condone killing millions and terrorizing the galaxy, and so shouldn't have contributed to such an end, even if there were further benefit to be gained. In what follows, we'll examine how a utilitarian – concerned with the best overall outcome – and a deontologist – concerned with our fundamental moral duties – would evaluate Galen's choice to cooperate with the Empire. We'll also examine a potential justification for his serving both the Empire and the Rebel Alliance that may help us to navigate such complex moral dilemmas. Although Galen may appear to be in a genuine crisis of conscience, we'll see how he could morally justify assisting the Empire in building the Death Star while laying his trap for its destruction.
Utilitarianism is defined by five foundational principles. Foremost is the consequentialist principle, which states that only an action's consequences count in its moral evaluation: actions aren't inherently right or wrong, but become right or wrong depending on the overall net outcome produced. While lying is held by many to be inherently wrong, Obi‐Wan Kenobi lies to Luke about his parentage to achieve what he considers to be a better outcome for Luke's psychological well‐being and the galaxy at large.1
Next is the hedonistic principle, which defines the consequences a utilitarian should try to maximize by their actions as intellectual and sensual pleasure; utilitarians ought also to minimize physical and existential pain and suffering.2 In short, we ought to maximize the greatest good for the greatest number of persons affected by our action. When considering those who'll be affected by our action, we must be guided by the principle of impartiality: every individual whose interests will be affected is to count as one and no more than one. In other words, a moral agent must be “strictly impartial as a disinterested and benevolent spectator.”3 Consider Lando's betrayal of our Rebel heroes when they arrive at Cloud City. While many fans balk at Lando's disloyalty to his “buddy,” impartial calculations of utility would weigh the well‐being of Han, Leia, Chewie, and Threepio against that of all of the residents of Cloud City, for whom Lando bears a special responsibility as their administrator.4 Depending on how things ultimately turn out, a utilitarian may applaud Lando's selling‐out to the Empire. Though, given how Lando's deal with Darth Vader kept “getting worse all the time,” leading to the mass evacuation of Cloud City, it appears that he failed to maximize net benefit for all concerned. The point is that Lando's betrayal of Han and the others has nothing to do, from a utilitarian perspective, with the value of Lando's loyalty to Han based on their many years of friendship – it has to do only with which action would lead to the greatest overall benefit.5
Finally, and most pertinent to the present discussion, is the principle of negative responsibility, which stipulates that we're just as responsible for negative outcomes we could've prevented as for the outcomes we directly cause. Some viewers – notably the slacker Randal in Kevin Smith's film Clerks – have judged the Rebels as “terrorists” for destroying the second Death Star while there were still innocent construction workers on board. If, however, the Rebels had allowed the Death Star II to be completed and used to kill untold numbers of innocents, the blood of those innumerable victims would've been on their hands.6 The same would arguably be true of Galen Erso if he hadn't cooperated in the first Death Star's construction to allow himself the opportunity to implant a potentially destructive flaw. That Galen's involvement in the Death Star's construction may be justified by his engineering its potential destruction, however, turns on whether or not that very potentiality is realized.
Although Luke's proton torpedoes provide the positive utility outcome that couldn't have been effected without Galen's contribution, events could've easily turned out quite differently. The Death Star might not have been destroyed, the Rebel base on Yavin IV might've been obliterated, and the Empire's tyrannous control over the galaxy would have been strengthened.7 Galen is thus the beneficiary of moral luck, meaning that his potential for being lauded as a hero depends to a degree on factors beyond his control; had things turned out otherwise, he might've been morally condemned.8 Ethicists debate whether the existence of moral luck undercuts any claim to moral responsibility since apparently everyone seems to be either blessed or cursed by circumstances outside of their control that influence the moral choices they make. The problem of moral luck is particularly acute for utilitarians, who hold one responsible for the net consequences of their chosen actions and inactions. Though Galen was morally lucky in his overall plan, he was also morally unlucky in that his plan resulted in innocent deaths – including his own daughter's – on Jedha, Scarif, and Alderaan.9
For deontological moral thinkers, what matters most aren't the consequences a moral agent produces or fails to produce, but whether we act from a good will: “A good will is not good because of what it effects or accomplishes, because of its fitness to attain some proposed end, but only because of its volition, that is, it is good in itself.”10 Consider Finn and Rose Tico's mission to find the “master codebreaker” on Canto Bight. Their mission stems from their good wills to save the Resistance; yet, changes of fortune result in their being arrested for illegal parking, meeting and subsequently being rescued by the mysterious thief “D.J.,” and ultimately being betrayed by D.J. to the First Order. Although they remain heroic “rebel scum,” Finn and Rose's mission fails and actually results in greater losses for the Resistance.
Bernard Williams (1929–2003) criticizes utilitarianism for allowing moral praise or blame to be held hostage to uncontrollable fortune and considers intrinsic value to lie in an agent's moral integrity, a person's self‐identification with “his actions as flowing from projects and attitudes which in some cases he takes seriously at the deepest level, as what his life is about.”11 He argues,
A feature of utilitarianism is that it cuts out a kind of consideration which for some others makes a difference to what they feel about such cases: a consideration involving the idea, as we might first and very simply put it, that each of us is specially responsible for what he does, rather than for what other people do. This is an idea closely connected with the value of integrity.12
Williams illustrates his contention with an example quite similar to Galen Erso's situation. “George” is an unemployed chemist who must find a way to support his family. A colleague offers George a job in a lab that produces chemical and biological weapons. George is morally opposed to such weapons but is informed that, if he doesn't take the job, it'll go to another chemist who zealously supports creating these weapons. If George takes the job, he could probably do the bare minimum to keep from being fired and support his family, thereby producing far fewer weapons – though he would clearly help produce some – than his more zealous counterpart.
Like George, Galen is concerned about providing for his family, as well as having fulfilling work to do, when – prior to the events in Rogue One – he initially agrees to work with Krennic on what he believes to be a sustainable energy project.13 He's also clearly a man of conscience. While imprisoned on Vallt on suspicion of constructing weapons for his employer, Zerpen Industries, Galen protests, “If I thought that Zerpen was engaging in weapons research, I wouldn't be working with them.”14 Krennic describes him as “something of a pacifist. A conscientious objector, if you will.”15 Galen is also someone who feels responsibility for consequences that result from his actions, even if he didn't intentionally cause them, such as when Krennic orders the destruction of the Separatist sympathizers on Vallt who held Galen and his family hostage.16 Galen clearly isn't of a utilitarian mindset; nor does he adhere to the strict framework of moral integrity that Williams recommends, in which the demands of conscience override all other considerations. Galen thus attempts to balance competing moral demands, ultimately resolving, when Krennic comes for him on Lah'mu, to assist the Empire in order to safeguard his daughter while seeking to undermine its villainous aims. How can he reconcile these two imperatives while remaining true to his own moral character?
Galen Erso begins his journey – from peaceful scientist to creator of the most destructive machine ever devised – humbly enough as a researcher focused on the mysterious kyber crystals. Unlike his wife, Lyra, Galen isn't interested in kyber crystals for their “spiritual” value but in their function as a natural energy amplifier. Since the Jedi zealously guarded the naturally occurring crystals found on Jedha and other remote locales throughout the galaxy, his early research for Zerpen Industries was aimed at fabricating synthetic kyber crystals. Galen thus typifies the research orientation of theoretical physicists such as Albert Einstein and others who foresaw the ability to split atomic nuclei as a means of creating inexhaustible amounts of energy. In both cases, the same scientific knowledge was able to be weaponized by those with more nefarious intentions.17
Such is the case with Orson Krennic, a brilliant engineer with ambitions of rising in the ranks of the Empire. His political success would be assured if he could deliver a weapon of unimaginable destructive force, and he sees Galen's research as the key to building such a weapon. Krennic initially recruits Galen into the Death Star project with the latter unaware of the true practical application of his research. Galen believes he's developing an inexhaustible source of “inexpensive and safe energy to countless worlds,” dubbed “Project Celestial Power,” which becomes “a kind of gilded cage.” Krennic also has a secret facility to weaponize Galen's research.18 Once Galen finds out the true nature of his work, he and his family run away with the help of Saw Gerrera.
When Krennic finds Galen and brings him back to the Death Star project, Galen is now more akin to Robert Oppenheimer, head of the Manhattan Project that created the world's first atomic bombs unleashed on the Japanese industrial cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki to end World War II.19 Oppenheimer, unlike Galen, was a willing contributor to creating the atomic bomb, but he later regretted his contribution, as evidenced in a famous interview reflecting on the first successful atomic detonation:
We knew the world would not be the same. A few people laughed, a few people cried. Most people were silent. I remembered the line from the Hindu scripture, the Bhagavad Gita. Vishnu is trying to persuade the Prince that he should do his duty, and, to impress him, takes on his multi‐armed form and says, “Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.” I suppose we all thought that, one way or another.20
Oppenheimer may have had the same self‐delusional belief as some of Galen's colleagues that “they are creating something so terrible and powerful it will never be used.” Galen's assessment differs: “But they're wrong. No weapon has ever been left on the shelf. And the day is coming soon when it will be unleashed.”21
The difference between Galen and Oppenheimer is that the latter was formally complicit in creating the atomic bomb: Oppenheimer was not only fully aware of the goal he was working toward, but he also evidently morally approved of its development and potential use, even if he later came to regret it. Galen, on the other hand, does not morally approve of the Death Star's construction and use. If Galen hadn't helped finish the Death Star, but it had been successfully built based on his initial research into kyber crystals, his moral position would've been equivalent to Einstein's. His theories allowed the atomic bomb to become physically realized, but he wasn't directly involved in the Manhattan Project.22 Galen's degree of moral complicity thus lies between Einstein's and Oppenheimer's since, unlike Einstein, he actually participates in the Death Star's construction but, unlike Oppenheimer, he doesn't morally approve of what he's doing. Galen struggles between the utilitarian pull to do what he believes will produce the greatest benefit for the galaxy and the anti‐utilitarian imperative to adhere to the dictates of his own conscience, which abhors contributing to the deaths of innocent people no matter the overall beneficial outcome. What's undeniable, however, is that Galen is materially complicit in the Death Star's development and the deaths it subsequently brings about by virtue of his work being an important cause in its construction.23
We need to say more about what it means for a moral agent to materially cooperate in doing something wrong. Consider the difference between a mechanic like Peli Motto who builds a landspeeder in a garage on Tatooine and someone who purchases and later plows that same landspeeder into a crowd of peaceful Jawas because they sold him an R2 unit with a bad motivator. While the mechanic has materially contributed to the latter's immoral action, she's not blameworthy for the violence for which the landspeeder was used because that wasn't the primary purpose for which the speeder was made. Galen's case differs; the purpose for which the Death Star was constructed is inherently immoral and he knew of this after he returned to the project. More salient to the present case is whether Galen's materially cooperative activity was mediate or immediate, along with its proximity to the immoral end achieved by its use. The more direct and necessary one's cooperative activity is for the immoral end to come about, the more difficult it is to exonerate oneself from culpability since, by refusing to materially cooperate, one could've prevented the immoral end from occurring. If, however, the immoral end may or may not have come about due to the choices of other moral agents, or if it was likely to come about – inevitable even – regardless of one's cooperative activity, then one's culpability diminishes due to how little control one had over the outcome.
While Galen provided material means by which the Death Star was capable of destroying Alderaan, the decisions of other moral agents ultimately result in its firing: mainly, Tarkin's order and the gunners who press the buttons that fire the Death Star's superlaser. In Oppenheimer's case, the atomic bomb's ultimate use wasn't directly attributable to him so much as to US President Harry Truman's order to release it over Hiroshima, as well as Colonel Paul Tibbets and the crew of the Enola Gay who executed that order. Even Princess Leia Organa serves as a more proximate contributor to Alderaan's destruction. It's her home planet, and her choice to become a leader in the Rebel Alliance motivates Tarkin's choice to destroy Alderaan as “an alternative form of persuasion” to convince Leia to divulge the location of the secret Rebel base. This is akin to Emperor Hirohito and the Japanese high command's unwillingness to surrender unconditionally prior to the atomic bomb being utilized.24 Galen, in fact, attempted during the Clone Wars to remove himself from even such remote material cooperation with weapons development. Krennic shows him, however, how his employer at the time, Zerpen Industries, was selling material to both Republic and Separatist worlds. Krennic's point is that no one can remain aloof in such a galactic‐scale conflict, but is forced to take sides.25 Further, the inability to predict accurately how one's moral choices will intersect with those of others shows that moral luck is still a factor.
Another potentially complicating factor is the necessity of Galen's role in the Death Star's creation. A moral agent's level of complicity diminishes to the extent to which his material support could be replaced by another agent. In such a case, the immoral action is likely to occur no matter what one does: an example would be one of the cargo pilots who delivers kyber crystals mined from Jedha to the Imperial research base on Eadu, each of whom is easily replaceable by another cargo pilot who'll get the job done. Galen, however, plays a much more crucial role in the Death Star's development. If, however, we take him at his word as communicated to Saw and Jyn, while he was at one time irreplaceable, he knew that eventually the Death Star project could be completed without him. Assuming Galen is being objectively honest, history may forgive him: his material contribution to Alderaan's destruction is both mediate and remote.
Is Galen Erso morally culpable for the lives lost when the Death Star destroyed Jedha, Scarif, and Alderaan? From a utilitarian perspective, no: the lives saved by his planting a fundamental weakness in the Death Star's reactor, exploited by Luke Skywalker, justifies the previous sacrifices of innocent lives. Yet, that net gain depended upon a series of fortuitous occurrences outside of Galen's control. Bernard Williams would thus condemn Galen for having betrayed his integrity in being complicit with an irredeemably reprehensible set of actions. Careful analysis of the conditions of moral complicity, however, justifies Galen's collusion so long as he had a reasonable expectation that the Death Star would've been completed anyway, and that there was a reasonable hope – a new hope – of success in its ultimate destruction.