The thunderous applause is gone and democracy is still dead
The best thing Disney has done with the Star Wars franchise by far is the decision to take the moment when democracy died with thunderous applause and use it to to point a mirror at the state of democracy in our own world. This was the entire raison d’être of Andor, and we got some of the best storytelling in the franchise for it. I am, for one, quite happy that their book division has taken the hint and started exploring this in the novels in earnest. As such, we have gotten the first of a trilogy that will be written by multiple authors, namely Reign of the Empire: The Mask of Fear by Alexander Freed.
Much of this particular novel is concerned with Lenin’s oft-quoted question (which he pilfered from Nikolay Chernyshevsky): “What is to be done?” Part of the novel begins on Coruscant, a world that, for the moment, feels very much like the Republic is still what it was before the Clone Wars. That is perhaps the most troubling thing about it. One of the novel’s major characters is Mon Mothma, by now a veteran of the Senate, who is doing everything in her power to oppose the fascist new order, and has paid a heavy price for it.
Mon Mothma, a minor character in the original trilogy, and then Revenge of the Sith, and then one of the standout characters of Rogue One and especially Andor, has an arc that seems laser-focused on a particular aspect of the (often grating) discourse among the American left: namely, the role of electoralism and elected officials in an organized resistance. A vocal, annoying minority says that voting is pointless and that the Democratic Party is inherently useless. Such a faction even exists within the Democratic Socialists of America, when Zohran Mamdani has proven the use of that strategy. Mon Mothma is far better than the likes of Chuck Schumer and Nancy Pelosi. For one, she has suffered for her beliefs, and she bears the scars of the struggle. After the new order came, she was imprisoned and tortured simply as a warning, but she returned to the Senate to fight.
She remains a politician, and I don’t mean that as an insult. She is doing her job admirably, building a coalition to put restraints on the Emperor’s power. She is living the spirit of the old activist idea that you need to be working with a broad enough coalition that some of them make you uncomfortable. She cuts backroom deals, makes promises she probably won’t be able to keep, strategically lies, and makes a whole lot of sausage. She deals with criminals and the openly, proudly corrupt. She likes none of this, but she has a higher purpose, and is simply unwilling to let the perfect be the enemy of the good. She is focused on doing something, not being something, as Olúfẹ́mi Táíwò counseled.
At least some discussion of this novel has argued that Mon Mothma’s arc shows that what she did was ultimately for nothing. Having read the novel, I would disagree with that. So much of what her role in her society is, a role of which she is very cognizant, is a form of theater. The power of an opposition politician in a new autocracy (if you want to be pedantic, I think by the time of the novel the Empire counts, at best, as “competitive authoritarianism,” with the descent to complete dictatorship not occurring until the dissolution of the Senate and the empowerment of the regional governors) operates through the fact that she is seen actively opposing the status quo. If someone like Mon Mothma can speak out against Palpatine, she plants the seeds in billions of people throughout the galaxy that they, themselves, can too. To quote Rogue One: rebellions are built on hope.
Mon Mothma has a foil in another character whose stomping ground is between the trilogies: Bail Organa of Alderaan, by now adoptive father of Leia Organa. This novel is probably one the more detailed looks at his psyche that we get in the broader expanded universe (another is Karen Miller’s novel Wild Space, whose cover—which portrays a deployment of clone troopers that never appears for any substantive amount of time—makes the novel feel by-the-numbers but is actually quite a fun romp), and he plays off the Chandrilan senator in an entertaining manner. He is a maverick, someone who quite obviously enjoys the spotlight and the grandstanding and the big dramatic speeches. He is hesitant, at first, to endorse Mon Mothma’s plans, as he feels they are too dangerous, but he comes around. Even people like him, arguably more cynical than the true believers, have a part to play.
But this is not only a novel of resistance in a clean, bloodless way. One of your other major characters is a former Separatist agent, Soujen Vak-Nhalis, implanted with cybernetics and put in stasis behind Republic lines in case the Separatist cause is defeated. That prognosis came true; it did not foresee the coming of the Empire, or the possibility of a man named Saw Gerrera finding him and waking him from his slumber, seeking to enlist him in his own fight. Through Soujen and through Saw, the novel dives into the other side of the coin upon which Mothma and Organa stand: the part fought with guns and bombs, not speeches and coalitions.
As it becomes clear that actual legislative success will hit roadblocks, you see how people like Saw Gerrera came to make the decisions they did. The Empire is violent, as all empires are, and it is willing to kill in massive numbers to secure its rule from any conceivable threat. This proto-Rebel Alliance is not yet the army of goodness that we know from the original trilogy (if it ever truly was that). These are tough, hard people who are willing to kill and destroy for their goals, and for that, they make the Empire wince, if only for a moment. It is in this context that Soujen begins to really shine as a character. His cause is gone, but he was trained for a purpose. He has the opportunity to use his skills in the service of a new cause not entirely like the one that trained him. He is a tool, and he knows it.
You have other characters, too, bound by the central question of how they will respond to the new order. One is an Imperial intelligence officer who has spent her career in Republic service, believing fiercely in her obligations despite looking forward to retirement. She is handling a young person who is dealing with their own issues and ends up joining a fascist paramilitary, a sort of Imperial Proud Boys. Fascism preys on the disaffected, the disillusioned, those who have lost purpose and abandoned principle without even knowing it, while making enemies of those who truly stand for something.
Despite having no illustrations, the book does a very good job of feeling gray. This is a galaxy with all the color drained out of it, all the luxury of the late Republic washed out and replaced with the gray of an Imperial I-class Star Destroyer (and, yes, pedants, I am aware of the red stripe commonly seen on the Venators). You can imagine that if this book were filmed, it would have a blue tint to it, a coldness that has descended upon everyone. The atmosphere is suffocating, with every compromise the characters have to make and every little reminder of the new regime fostering an atmosphere of pure paranoia.
This has rocketed up to being one of my favorite books of the new canon, and I feel that it is worthy of being one of the best books the franchise has ever produced. What makes this book succeed is its thematic work and its character work; it is so timely, so utterly relevant in its content, that it achieves a self-actualization of the potential of the Star Wars universe of which few works in the franchise can boast. There was an anti-authoritarian kernel within the universe ever since George Lucas dreamed up the original film, and now, finally, people are brave enough to use it.
POSTED BY: Alex Wallace, alternate history buff who reads more than is healthy.
