Star Wars and Philosophy (Popular Culture and Philosophy Series) - Kevin Decker [101]
Later, Luke returns to Dagobah, where Vader’s story is reluctantly confirmed first by a dying Yoda, then by the spirit of Obi-Wan in a dialogue that raises the question: was Obi-Wan’s lie really a lie at all? In a strictly literal sense it is—Darth Vader can’t have killed Luke’s father if he is Luke’s father. But as we’ve seen in this chapter, truth is seldom as simple as the literal facts make it seem.
Obi-Wan says, “Luke, you’re going to find that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view.” This isn’t necessarily the evasive self-justification it appears to be. It could certainly be argued, as Obi-Wan does, that the good man and Jedi who was Anakin Skywalker was destroyed when he chose the path of the Sith and became Darth Vader. Vader says as much when Luke calls him Anakin: “That name no longer has any meaning for me.” To which Luke responds, “It is the name of your true self. You’ve only forgotten.” Changing one’s name is a near-universal way to signal a new identity, dying in a metaphorical sense to one’s old self and being reborn. There’s no denying, however, that Obi-Wan didn’t originally intend Luke to understand his words in this metaphysical sense—any more than Palpatine expected the Senate to see through the layers of meaning in his acceptance speech. That intention makes it a deception even if truth was buried in his words. It also brings the virtuous Jedi Knight uncomfortably close to the wicked Sith Master, one of the shadings into grey of previously one-sided characters that helps make the Star Wars films so interesting.
The question of whether or not Obi-Wan really lied is less important than why he said what he said—his intentions. A parallel can be found in the Parable of the House on Fire, which the Buddha tells to his disciple Shariputra. A wealthy man’s house catches on fire. His children are oblivious to the fire and the danger it poses. They ignore their father’s warnings and continue to play with their toys as the house burns around them. The father finally tells his children he’s got wonderful carts outside for them, carts driven by each of their favorite animals. Delighted, the children run outside. The promised carts are not there, but in their place are carriages that carry them safely away from the fire. Buddha then asks his disciple whether or not the father in the parable is guilty of falsehood. Shariputra says no:
The elder is not guilty of falsehood, for he has only enabled his children to avoid the calamity of fire, and has thereby saved their lives . . . If that elder had not given them even so much as a single small cart, he still would not have been speaking falsely. Why? Because the elder previously had this thought, “I shall use expedients to lead my children out.”159
So when deception is used to attain noble ends, to assist someone whose awareness and understanding are incomplete, it isn’t really deception. This is surprising, coming as it does from the Buddhist tradition in which one of the basic tenets is “right speech,” which includes honesty. Perhaps Shariputra overstates his case and the elder has indeed told a falsehood, but nevertheless is not “guilty” as no one would argue that lying to save an oblivious child from death is wrong.
Obi-Wan’s intentions are very much the same as those of the elder in the parable. He sees Luke in danger of falling into a life in which his spiritual potential will be squandered or corrupted, or quite possibly even losing that life before it had really begun. He sees as well that Luke is blind to that danger, so he uses “expedients” to lead the young man toward a more authentic life. Plato touches on a similar idea when he relates the story of Socrates and the “Noble Lie.”160 Socrates is faced with the task of