You Rebel scum. The poor Galactic Empire always gets painted as the murderous bad guys in Star Wars. But from a certain point of view, one can sort of empathize with the Emperor’s legions in their collective anger towards the Rebels. After all, Alliance forces obliterated not one but two Death Stars, killing over 2 million Imperials in the process.
Those were men, women, and dianogas with families, many of whom likely joined the Empire out of a wholly non-evil desire to serve the galaxy. That kind of wholesale destruction begs the question of whether the Rebels cemented themselves as the biggest terrorists in the galaxy by unlawfully blowing up both Death Stars.
Valiant Imperial aces rush to protect their home against the radical Rebel attackers.
Before we talk about all the personnel aboard, lets consider whether both Death Stars were lawful military objectives themselves. Under the law of armed conflict not everything can be attacked at will—certain places and persons are legally protected from attack. For example, the Geneva Conventions forbids intentional attacks civilians or religious and cultural sites. Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Conventions defines military objectives as “those objects which by their nature, location, purpose or use make an effective contribution to military action and whose total or partial destruction…in the circumstances ruling at the time, offers a definite military advantage.”
Somewhere aboard the Death Star, Admiral Motti is yelling “BOOM! HEY VADER DID YOU SEE THAT—WHOSE POWER IS INSIGNIFICANT NOW?!”
Unfortunately for the Empire, both Death Stars fit that bill neatly and were therefore valid military objectives. The Death Stars were not designed to be floating research labs or peaceful exploration vessels. Instead, both were purpose-built military doomsday lasers intended to cement the Empire’s control over the galaxy. From wiping out Alderaan to destroying massive Rebel Mon Calamari cruisers in a single shot, the destructive power of the Death Stars significantly contributed to military action.
In the wake of Jedha, Scarif, and Alderaan, the first Death Star proved itself as a weapon unmatched by anything in the fledgling Rebel arsenal. The weapon threatened the very existence of the Alliance, not to mention thousands of innocent people across the galaxy. Destroying it therefore offered an absolute military advantage to the Rebels. Doing so would not only neutralize the most terrifying weapon the galaxy had ever seen, but it would also eliminate a tremendous amount of other enemy equipment and personnel.
Let’s also not forget that at the time of the Rebel attack, the first Death Star was not on some mercy mission to Yavin. It was there to, as Tarkin so eloquently put it, crush the Rebellion in one swift stroke, thereby ending the galactic civil war. Given the threat of imminent destruction, Rebel forces had an absolute right to act in self-defense and attack the Death Star. Even though the Rebels were initially on the offensive against the second Death Star, they had a similar right to self-defense once it started reducing the Rebel fleet to ash.
The Emperor’s presence on the second Death Star was an added enticement for the Rebels. As the leader of the Galactic Empire and commander-in-chief of its military forces, the Alliance rightly recognized that killing the Emperor would grant them an undeniable military advantage. Given his total control over Imperial forces, his death would likely decapitate the Empire and send its military into chaos and disarray. Therefore, there is no question that both Death Stars were valid military targets.
Alas, maybe Tarkin would have taken Chief Bast more seriously if he reminded him that they were standing on a gigantic valid military target.
Now what about those millions of poor Imperial souls who lost their lives to the Rebels’ treachery? Sadly, even though most of them didn’t even fire a shot, the throngs of Stormtroopers, officers, and other military personnel were perfectly legal targets.
The law of war dictates that only combatants or those directly participating in hostilities may be targeted. Combatants include anyone engaging in hostilities in an armed conflict on behalf of a party to the conflict. Imperials aboard both Death Stars were combatants by virtue of the fact that they were uniformed soldiers of the Empire. Imperial troops aboard the Death Stars may not have been leaning out of windows actively firing their blasters at Rebel ships, but nevertheless their status as Imperial soldiers effectively painted a bullseye on their backs. That means that it was perfectly legal for the Rebels to target every uniformed Imperial, whether an ace TIE pilot or stormtrooper on sanitation detail (sorry, Finn) aboard both Death Stars.
Don’t tell the Imperial propagandists, but the Rebels acted perfectly within the law of war when they destroyed both Death Stars. While the destruction of both battle stations led to a sobering loss of life, at least it made for a great fireworks show.
Back in the days when Star Wars was just the original trilogy and the beloved Holiday Special (that’s the correct usage for “beloved,” right?), things were fairly black and white for the Rebellion. Their struggle against the Galactic Empire was daunting, but the Alliance was portrayed as a scrappy but unified group that shared a common goal.
Fast-forward to Rogue One and Star Wars Rebels and suddenly the Rebels’ fight is not so simple anymore. Instead of a cohesive group of do-gooders, these new stories portray the Rebel Alliance in a more realistic fashion. We see the Rebellion as a troubled group dogged just as much by internal fractures as they are by Imperial forces.
Star Wars dialogue about the law of war? Be still my beating heart.
A big part of their internal struggle is deciding how exactly they should fight the Empire. The recent Star Wars Rebels episode “In the Name of the Rebellion” dove into the Rebellion’s debate about how to wage war. In it, Saw Gerrera confronts Mon Mothma over her unwillingness to take more extreme measures in the fight against the Empire. Mon Mothma fires back, accusing Saw of breaking the rules of engagement and killing civilians and prisoners.
In her fiery retort, Mon Mothma touches on some very real concerns that are at the heart of the law of war. Long ago, the Latin maxim “Silent enim leges inter arma” (or, “In times of war, the law falls silent”) spoke to the lawless chaos of war. While Saw Gerrera probably has that slogan tattooed on him somewhere, the belief that war was inherently lawless was discarded long ago. Laws, customs, and treaties developed over the course of millennia to help reign in war’s lawless carnage. Those rules collectively became known as the law of war.
The concept of trying to apply rules to something as destructive and frenzied as war might seem silly. However, the law of war serves to bring some semblance of humanity to warfare by protecting fundamental human rights and guarding against unnecessary suffering.
Perhaps the Ewoks need a bit of…mentorship in the fine art of not being carnivorous war criminals.
How the Rebel Alliances chooses to wage its war against the Empire is therefore a critically important decision—one that Mon Mothma gets right. Saw Gerrera sees the Empire as a brutal, unyielding foe who must be met with an equally brutal resolve. Imperial forces certainly have little concern for the law of war—to Saw Gerrera, that’s reason enough to show no restraint or mercy. He openly mocks Mon Mothma because he believes that the Rebellion is doomed to failure as long as it tries to fight honorably against such a dastardly opponent.
But Saw is blinded by his unbridled thirst for vengeance. His endgame is not a fight for the fate of the galaxy, but a bloodletting designed to make the Empire pay. His tactics of killing civilians and prisoners severely undermine the larger Rebel effort. In Rebel Rising, Saw’s forces assassinate an Imperial governor and intentionally massacre countless civilians in the process. Saw’s objective was to send a message to Emperor Palpatine about what the Empire was up against. In reality, the mass murder achieved virtually nothing and instead fueled Imperial efforts to portray the rebels as frightening terrorists.
The Galactic Empire would like to extend its warm appreciation to Saw Gerrera, whose generous battlefield foolishness helped make this propaganda campaign possible.
On real world battlefields, violating the law of war is often a similarly powerful motivator for enemy forces. Late in World War II, Hitler ordered his commanders at the Battle of the Bulge to be especially brutal during the battle to frighten Allied forces. In response to Hitler’s orders, Nazi forces in Malmedy, Belgium infamously executed 84 American prisoners of war during the battle. However, word of the “Malmedy Massacre” quickly spread through Allied ranks, sparking outrage that fueled American forces to break the back of the German offensive.
Mon Mothma’s choice to have the Rebels fight according to the law of war is a reflection of the Alliance’s ultimate goal of restoring the galaxy. She recognizes that the Rebellion has no chance at victory if it does not win over the hearts and minds of galactic citizens. The Empire’s willingness to violate the law of war is no excuse for the Rebellion to do the same. Stooping to the Empire’s level and trading in atrocities would all but forfeit the moral high ground and give citizens little reason to rally to their cause—a result that would doom their movement as much as any devastating loss in battle.
Saw’s tirade against Mon Mothma wrongly paints the law of war and rules of engagement as needless restrictions that handcuff Rebel forces. What he fails to see is that sticking to those rules can actually be a “combat multiplier,” or in other words, something that dramatically enhances effectiveness and helps accomplish the mission.
During the Gulf War, Allied forces used leaflets like the one below to tempt Iraqi forces to surrender by highlighting the protections and humane treatment they would receive. The leaflets showcased U.S. respect for the law of war and were a huge success on the battlefield, motivating large numbers of Iraqis to peacefully surrender.
Leaflet dropped during the Gulf War. The text on the backside read: The U.S. abides by the rules of the Geneva Convention. Ceasing fire will provide you humane treatment, food and water, medical treatment, shelter, and return to your homes after hostilities.
Lord Vader wasn’t the type to throw down his lightsaber just because Rebels played by the rules. Nonetheless, the Alliance’s respect for the law of war led to similar tactical successes. Although the Battle of Endor far from ended the war, countless Imperials surrendered to Rebel forces, including two super star destroyers. Similarly, the Galactic Concordance flexed the rule of law and law of war to help usher the final surrender of remaining Imperial forces, ending the Galactic Civil War. Those successes would have never occurred if Mon Mothma had cast aside the Alliance’s core values and let the law fall silent during war.
Rather than attend a class on the law of war, Saw Gerrera chooses obliteration by Death Star.
KILLER ROBOTS. The very mention of those soulless death machines conjures nightmares of Skynet becoming self-aware, Cylons on the warpath, or renegade Roy Batty. From Terminator to Battlestar Galactica, murderous automatons have woven their way into the public psyche, as has our fear that robots will take over the world and convert us all to batteries Matrix-style.
Star Wars admittedly lacks any single iconic killer robot (sorry, Darth Vader—you’re only part machine). Nevertheless, from battle droids to IG-88 or probe droids, the galaxy far far away is filled to the brim with autonomous weapon systems.
Despite their futuristic depiction in movies, automated weapon systems are nothing new in real world militaries. The U.S. military does not employ any fully autonomous weapon systems, but they’ve been using weapons with varying levels of autonomy for decades. For example, the Army’s Patriot missile system and the Navy’s close in weapon system (CIWS or “Sea-Whiz”), two semi-autonomous “man on the loop” weapon systems, have been in service for years.
Not exactly the T-1000, but remote Gatling guns and giant automated missiles will do.
The legality of autonomous weapon systems has become an increasingly important and controversial topic as technology has rapidly advanced. In 2015, Tesla founder Elon Musk and renowned scientist Stephen Hawking organized a coalition of 1,000 robotics experts who called for a ban on automated smart weapons. As the U.S. military’s arsenal continues to evolve, the lawfulness of increasingly automated weapons will remain a major issue on the international stage.
While the Galactic Empire has its fair share of automated weapons, we’ll keep our focus on the prequel era and the Separatist army’s droid legions. Before we tackle the legality of all those battle and destroyer droids, let’s take a step back and get some framework on the issue.
Watch your back, HAL 9000. The dreaded B-1 battle droid will haunt your dreams with its ruthless efficiency.
First, let’s figure out what the term “autonomous weapon system” means. There is no agreed upon international definition for the term, but the U.S. Department of Defense (DoD) defines automated weapon systems as those that, when activated, are capable of selecting and engaging targets without further human intervention. In other words, although a human operator might have the ability to take control of the system, the system is capable of operating without any human involvement.
The Separatist Army’s legions of battle droids and other mechanical terrors clearly qualify as autonomous weapon systems. Take the mainstay of their forces, the trusty B-1 battle droid. While battle droids became slightly more advanced as the Clone Wars dragged on, they were always built to be capable of operating without further human (or Neimoidian if we’re going to be all technical about it) intervention.
Even in The Phantom Menace, when a single Trade Federation ship controlled the entire droid army, the droids themselves operated without any involvement from federation personnel. While the battle droids may have acted based on programming and Trade Federation orders, they were never directly controlled. Droids can be seen doing all sorts of independent tasks from guarding prisoners in the Theed Palace hangar to mounting a full assault on the Gungan army. The more advanced models, like the Commando Droids or Super Tactical Droids seen in The Clone Wars animated series, performed even more complicated tasks with total independence. Even though Separatist commanders retained the ability to shut down or override the droids, they still qualify as autonomous weapon systems.
Viceroy Gunray showcases the latest in autonomous laziness systems with his frivolous robot chair.
While the international community can’t agree on a definition for autonomous weapon systems, there is universal agreement that the law of armed conflict (LOAC) applies to them. To figure out whether a particular weapon is legal, we have to turn to the creatively named area of LOAC known as weapons law.
Weapons law focuses on the overall legality of the weapon, without regard to how it’s used. As an example, a poison like the Blue Shadow Virus in The Clone Wars, is deemed per se unlawful under LOAC, no matter what the intended use. Even if the Separatists wanted to use the virus against a lawful target, such as a group of clone troopers on patrol, it would still be illegal to use.
Whether autonomous or not, the legality of all weapons are determined by the same three distinct rules: (1) The weapon cannot cause unnecessary suffering or superfluous injury by nature; (2) The weapon cannot cause uncontrollable effects; (3) The weapon must not be indiscriminate by nature.
As humanity became increasingly good at creating horrible weapons, the outcry for rules that would reign in the suffering grew. The ban on weapons that cause unnecessary suffering was one of the earliest prohibitions codified in international law, first appearing in the 1899 Hague Convention. The rule, which is now woven into international law, is intended to ban weapons that, by their nature, aggravate a combatant’s wounds. A prime real world example is projectiles filled with glass, which cause major additional wounding. The glass fragments are then very difficult to remove because they cannot be seen on x-ray, which only compounds the suffering.
The very finest in terrible, horrible, no good Imperial weaponry. Grand Moff Tarkin would be so proud.
In Star Wars Rebels, the Empire’s dreaded T-7 ion disruptor rifles are a gruesome example of the sort of weapon that would be banned by this rule. T-7s were long rifles that would disintegrate organic beings atom by atom, leading to an excruciating death. While Boba Fett might fully approve of those effects, the T-7 disruptor is exactly the sort of weapon that would be banned in the real world. Coincidentally, the Galactic senate ultimately banned disruptors due to their terrible effects.
In contrast, the bulk of the Separatist Army would not violate this rule. Battle droids function like normal soldiers, armed with blasters and standard programming to engage and destroy the enemy. Even though those droids could theoretically be programmed or ordered to cause unnecessary suffering, they aren’t designed cause those effects. That distinction is critical because the rule focuses on the weapon system’s effect on a targeted individual, not the manner in which it is used. Any weapon system can be used in an illegal manner, but that doesn’t mean that the weapon itself is automatically illegal.
Second, weapons law prohibits the use of weapons that have uncontrollable effects, regardless of how accurately they can strike targets. Unfortunately for the Separatists, their prized Blue Shadow Virus gets the axe under this rule. While the virus might only be used against a lawful target like clone troopers, there’s no way to control its spread. Those same clones could easily infect civilians and other innocents, triggering an uncontrollable spread of the virus. However, Separatist automated droid forces don’t cause the same spiraling uncontrollable effects. Although swarms of droids were wielded to inflict devastating damage, their blasters, rocket launchers, and other conventional weaponry cause predictable damage with controllable effects. The droids’ automation doesn’t change that conclusion.
The Threepio-Battle Droid hybrid: An uncontrollable powder keg of murderous robot rage.
Finally, LOAC prohibits weapons that are indiscriminate by their very nature. Under Additional Protocol I of the Geneva Conventions, any means of combat that cannot be directed against a specific military objective is unlawful. In other words, if the weapon cannot be aimed at a lawful military target, it’s probably not legal. Though not autonomous, the Death Star, everyone’s favorite orbital war crime, is a perfect example of an illegal weapon that is indiscriminate in nature. The battle station was designed to destroy entire planets, which is probably the most black and white example of indiscriminate targeting ever (just ask the poor Alderaanians).
Separatist droid forces don’t run afoul of this rule. Battle droids were often made to kill indiscriminately throughout the Clone Wars, as we saw with their killing of Naboo civilians in The Phantom Menace. But just because they can be used in that manner doesn’t mean they are indiscriminate by their very nature. The droid forces aren’t pre-programmed to kill anyone they come into contact with. Similarly, they have the ability to aim their weapons (even if they happen to make Stormtroopers look like crack shots) and select their targets. Given their programming, the lack of individual control over the droids doesn’t render them indiscriminate weapon systems.
Just as with any conventional weapon, the legality of new autonomous weaponry must go through a legal review process. Under Article 36 of Additional Protocol I, High Contracting Parties such as the U.S. are required to determine whether the Geneva Conventions or international law would prohibit the new piece of weaponry. In practice, the U.S. conducts a complex and thorough weapons review process. The process starts early in the weapon’s development process and continues through production to ensure the weapon is legal. As we’ve seen, the fact that a weapon system is automated doesn’t control the analysis, but instead is merely one factor.
Count Dooku’s reaction after being told the Separatists must conduct legal reviews on all of their droid weapons.
I’m going to go out a limb and declare that the Separatists don’t have any mechanism for reviewing the legality of their weaponry. Their frequent loose adherence to the law of war strongly suggests that they’re not all too concerned with the opinions of galactic lawyers. Nevertheless, Viceroy Gunray can rest easy on his robot chair—while the Separatist droid hordes may be fully automated, they don’t run afoul of the law of armed conflict.
When last we met in our alternate Return of the Jedi reality, Darth Vader survived the Emperor’s Force lightning after chucking him down a chasm in the Death Star like a dirty shirt down a laundry chute. The victorious Rebel Alliance promptly thanked Vader by deciding that he should be put on trial for war crimes. Now that we’re all caught up, let’s turn to the business of strategizing how to defend one of the most reviled men in the galaxy.
Despite what some Empire haters out there might think, even someone as detestable (or awesome, depending on your point of view) as Darth Vader would be entitled to legal counsel to mount an adequate defense. Even though he’d likely be tried before a special war crimes tribunal, Vader would still be entitled to legal counsel. Defendants in real world war crimes trials have long enjoyed the right to counsel, such as in the Nuremburg Trials following World War II in 1945, where 24 of the most notorious Nazi leaders were each afforded legal counsel, as well as roughly 70 assistants, clerks, and lawyers. In more recent history, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that Guantanamo Bay detainees must be afforded attorneys before being tried.
The Rebel Alliance is an organization built on restoring democracy and the rule of law, which means they would take great care to ensure that Darth Vader received a fair trial. Vader’s capture would inevitably result in impassioned calls for his summary execution. Giving in to that sentiment would make the Alliance no better than the Empire. Mon Mothma, a leader accustomed to making difficult choices, would not hesitate in declaring that Vader should be afforded a defense team and a neutral venue.
URoRRuR’R’R demands that Darth Vader be turned over to the Tusken Raiders to face sand people justice for his massacre in Attack of the Clones. The maximum punishment: Death by sand.
Galactic attorneys wouldn’t exactly jump at the chance to defend the Dark Lord of the Sith. However, just like John Adams stepping forward to defend British soldiers accused of the Boston Massacre, Star Wars has a history of individuals coming to the defense of the damned. Anakin’s own wife did so when she defended young padawan Ahsoka Tano during the Clone Wars. Years after Return of the Jedi, his daughter Leia would offer to do the same for a fellow senator in the novel Bloodline. The brave soul who steps forward to defend Darth Vader would have a tall task ahead of them. The Alliance would muster all available resources to pursue a seemingly endless slate of charges against Vader, including, but not limited to:
Aggravated assault
Aiding the enemy
Communicating a threat
Cruelty and maltreatment of subordinates
Dueling
Genocide
Maiming
Murder (by manual strangulation)
Murder (by Force strangulation)
Murder (by Force push)
Murder (by lightsaber)
Murder (by fists)
Stalking
Torture
Treason
If we took up the matter of strategizing a defense for every possible charge against Vader, this article would be long enough to make the average Game of Thrones novel look like a Little Golden Book. Instead, we’ll focus on just a few of the possible charges seen in A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back. We’ll also avoid all the Skywalker family drama by not addressing the potential defense of lack of mental responsibility, even though it could arguably extend to just about all of Vader’s crimes.
The Destruction of Alderaan
Today’s forecast on Alderaan: Sunny with a chance of superlaser-induced cataclysm.
Alderaan would undoubtedly be the focal point for Alliance prosecutors. While the Galactic Empire was like a greatest hits album of awful injustices, the obliteration of Alderaan and its civilian population was its single worst crime. Darth Vader would be charged with the genocide of the Alderaanian people. The planet’s destruction fits the Geneva Convention definition of genocide, which is the “killing and other acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial, or religious group.” Such a crime would be considered a “grave breach” of the Convention, which is a category reserved for the worst offenses.
Even though Darth Vader did not pull the switch that actually fired the superlaser, the Alliance would seek to hold him responsible because of his position and authority. As the Emperor’s black clad lapdog and a ranking Imperial military leader, prosecutors would argue that Vader bears criminal responsibility for Alderaan. In the real world, military commanders have been held legally responsible for the crimes of their subordinates under certain circumstances as far back as the 1400s. Commanders aren’t strictly liable for every offense committed by their subordinates. Instead, the commander’s personal dereliction must have contributed to or failed to prevent the offense.
The Alliance would argue that Vader, a central Imperial figure, had an undeniable central role with the battle station, given its scale and importance to the Imperial war machine. Vader’s defense would be built around establishing that he had no command or control over the Death Star. Vader would do so by putting on evidence of his truly limited role with the station.
Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I give you your incredibly high-cheekboned scapegoat.
For starters, Darth Vader had virtually no role in developing or building the station. Those tasks fell to Director Krennic, the Empire’s resident cape aficionado, and ultimately Governor Wilhuff Tarkin. Both officers were intimately involved with the project since its origin as an unfinished Geonosian schematic, while Vader and his deep skepticism of the project remained on the periphery.
There was also a stark difference in military standing between Tarkin and Vader. While Tarkin was a Grand Moff, a special high-level rank established by Palpatine, Vader no formal military rank. Although he commanded his own Star Destroyer and occasionally led military operations, Vader was more of an attaché or personal enforcer than a traditional field commander.
By virtue of his rank and intimate involvement with the project, it was Tarkin—not Vader—who assumed military control over the weapon once it was operational. Tarkin controlled the weapon above Scarif while Vader merely handled cleanup duty with the Rebel fleet. Following that battle, Vader remained merely a role player, carrying out the singular task of hunting for the station’s plans. Even Princess Leia seemed aware of the hierarchy, telling Tarkin that she wasn’t surprised to find him holding Vader’s leash.
Finally, it was Tarkin who ordered the Death Star to Alderaan and gave the command for it to fire. Vader’s failure to intervene was not a dereliction, because short of a direct command from the Emperor, Vader had no ability to order Tarkin to stand down on his own battle station. Vader therefore arguably had no command or control over the weapon, which would sever his criminal responsibility and give him a solid defense against the genocide charge.
Torture of Leia & Han
Vader calls this ‘aggressive questioning,’ which makes it totally not torture.
Even though Vader did not permanently damage Leia and Han, he would still be in deep Bantha poodoo over allegedly torturing them. The United Nations defines torture as the infliction of severe pain or suffering for unlawful purposes such as obtaining a confession, punishment, or to intimidate or coerce. Torture is uniformly outlawed under international law, including the Geneva Conventions.
In A New Hope, Vader introduced Leia to the Empire’s IT-O interrogation droid, also known as the “torture droid,” as he sought to coerce information about the Alliance’s hidden base (yes, that dreadful floating black ball with a giant needle has a name). Similarly, in Empire, Vader strapped poor Han into a literal torture chair so that his pain would reverberate through the Force to coax Luke into his trap. Both of these acts unquestionably qualify as torture under international law.
I don’t even know what to write here, except that you can buy a Han Solo action figure with an actual toy torture rack.
However, knowing that these acts are torture and proving them in a court of law are two very different things. In Leia’s case, prosecutors would absolutely need her to testify. The guards who witnessed the interrogation, any holo-recordings, and the interrogation droid itself would have all been annihilated with the Death Star. Leia also bore no permanent scars from the incident, which would make her testimony all the more essential. Real world prosecutions are regularly stalled due to non-cooperative witnesses. Testifying as a crime victim is often a terrifying experience that can take an incredible psychological toll.
Leia would feel that same pressure when deciding whether to testify. On one hand, she would face tremendous pressure from the Alliance to testify against one of its most notorious enemies. On the other hand, she would also feel a powerful internal struggle over stemming from her relationship with Vader. Her reluctance would be enhanced knowing that her father had finally redeemed himself. If Leia took the stand, she would face the very real possibility that her testimony would doom her father a short time after he had finally been freed from the grip of the Dark Side. Nonetheless, without her testimony, the prosecution could not prove that torture occurred, thereby sinking their case.
If she did testify, the defense would have to argue that exigent circumstances necessitated Vader’s actions. At the time, the Alliance had just stolen the technical data for the Death Star in order to exploit it for a weakness that could help them destroy the station. The lives of untold thousands aboard the station depended on his ability to find the plans and stop the imminent attack. Darth Vader therefore had little alternative but to aggressively question Leia.
Audience question for Mr. Calrissian: Did Cloud City just have a torture chair lying around or did Darth Vader bring his own?
Han’s torture presents slightly different circumstances for the defense. Fresh off learning that Vader is his terrifying new father-in-law, Han would have a struggle akin to Leia’s over possibly testifying. However, while the witnesses to Leia’s torture were all vaporized, the Alliance could probably find one or two other witnesses or some Cloud City security footage to support Han’s charge.
Vader’s defense team would be in tougher straits with this charge. Unlike with Leia, there was no imminent Rebel attack and thus no exigent circumstances. Vader didn’t even ask Han any questions, as he real purpose was simply to inflict pain in an effort to draw Luke out of hiding. So, Vader would likely argue duress. Duress is an affirmative defense in which a person admits to doing something as a direct result of some pressure, threat, or violence. Vader would claim that he feared death or grievous bodily injury at the hands of Palpatine if he did not deliver Luke Skywalker.
The Emperor viewed Luke as the most pressing threat to the Empire and had ordered Vader to kill or turn Luke to the Dark Side shortly before Han’s torture. As a murderous maniacal Sith Lord, the Emperor did not take failure lightly. Consequently, Vader harbored a legitimate fear that he would be killed or seriously injured if he failed. With Luke in hiding, Vader resorted to torturing Han as a last-ditch effort to lure Luke to Cloud City. Therefore, while Han’s torture was unlawful, Vader only did so because of the looming threat presented by the Emperor.
“Pleading guilty is a perfectly acceptable alternative in extreme circumstances. The Rebel Alliance may be gracious enough to…”
Defending Darth Vader would be one of the toughest jobs in the galaxy, right behind being Jabba the Hutt’s personal bathing assistant. After all, there is a big difference between having a possible or technical defense to a crime and actually getting a judge or jury to buy it. Vader’s hulking presence and rhythmic unnerving breathing at counsel table probably also wouldn’t help the situation. But affording Vader a robust defense and a fair trial would allow the Alliance to put its money where its mouth is, proving their commitment to the restoration of justice in the galaxy.
It’s May the 4th, which means that all Star Wars fans are morally bound to immerse themselves in the galaxy far, far away for an entire 24 hours. The Legal Geeks is no exception, so let’s turn our attention to the ultimate symbol of power and general bad-assery in the universe: Darth Vader. As the perennial winner of the “Best Star Wars Character with a Breathing Problem” category (sorry, General Grievous), Lord Vader is a shining example of the Galactic Empire’s might and menace. However, despite his general awesomeness, he is not quite the best example of how to do pretty much anything legally.
Vader has no time for silly concepts like proper interrogation techniques or the due process of law.
One might argue Vader’s effectiveness is fueled by his penchant for taking action. He doesn’t take time to discuss things as a committee; he simply fires up his lightsaber and goes to work. Vader possessed that trait long before he donned the iconic armor—after all, Yoda could count on one of his three-fingered hands the number of times Anakin mindfully planned something out with an eye towards possible consequences.
One of his boldest gambles was chasing down and boarding Princess Leia’s ship at the beginning of A New Hope. Vader’s pursuit, capture, and boarding of the ship are undoubtedly some of the most iconic scenes in all of film. While Vader’s tactics were certainly decisive, were they legal?
You may not have realized it at the time, but some of the first lines in A New Hope allude to some very real legal issues that Vader created by capturing and boarding Leia’s ship, the Tantive IV.
Princess Leia and Captain Antilles (may his crumpled body rest in peace) are not just delivering catchy lines in those opening scenes. Their comments to Vader touch upon some very real laws. Unfortunately, even though there are actual laws governing outer space, those laws have not quite advanced to the point of dealing with conflict between manned space ships. Fortunately for us, there is an entire collection of international and domestic laws that govern civilian and military naval operations. That body of law provides an excellent framework for judging Vader.
When confronted by Vader, both Captain Antilles and Leia immediately tout the ship’s diplomatic status. Prior to A New Hope, Princess Leia took very careful steps to protect the Tantive IV’s status as a diplomatic vessel. The ship itself belonged to the House of Organa on Alderaan, making it a vessel of state. Its hull was marked with distinctive scarlet stripes, which were the standard galactic marker for diplomatic ships. Leia routinely used the ship to ferry her on diplomatic missions related to her service in the Imperial Senate.
You can’t see it, but the Tantive IV sports a bumper sticker that says “DEFINITELY NO REBEL TRAITORS IN HERE.”
There is a very good legal reason behind all of those actions. As a matter of customary international law, all vessels that are owned or operated by a state and used only for government service are entitled to sovereign immunity. As an official governmental vessel of Alderaan, a sovereign planet, the Tantive IV would enjoy sovereign immunity so long as it was used for government service. This is why Leia was especially cautious when using the Tantive IV for missions related to the Rebellion—because doing so would risk the ship’s immunity.
That immunity was of critical importance because of the protections that come along with it. Under international law, any vessel that has sovereign immunity cannot be arrested or searched, whether sailing in national or international waters. Additionally, that privilege protects the identity of personnel, stores, weapons, or other property on board the vessel. Given those substantial legal protections, you don’t have to be Yoda to understand how important it was for Leia to maintain her ship’s immunity. She was free to operate the ship without fear that Imperials would stop and board. Similarly, she could transport important personnel, weapons, and other material (*cough cough* Death Star plans) under the same umbrella of protection—so long as secrecy was maintained.
In the real world, both the U.S. Navy and Coast Guard adhere to the law surrounding sovereign immunity. The protection is taken very seriously and any decision to stop and board foreign vessels is made with the utmost care. Under normal circumstances, Darth Vader would have violated a serious tenet of international law if he had stopped and boarded Leia’s ship on a whim.
Obscure International Law 101: Any ship deemed to be “flying casual” is also immune from search and seizure.
Darth Vader made it clear that he seized the vessel because he believed it had received the Death Star plans from Rebel agents. Fans were left to wonder what sort of intelligence Vader was acting on when he chased down the Tantive IV—after all, Leia’s incredulous reaction certainly made it seem as if he had gone out on a limb.
Rogue One filled in that story gap and we now know that Vader personally witnessed the Tantive IV and its crew escape with the plans to the Empire’s prized battle station. This new chapter in the saga greatly weakens Leia’s legal position. Sovereign immunity is not an absolute right. State vessels risk losing those protections if they violate the law, which means they can then be stopped, boarded, and searched.
The act of intercepting a vessel at sea is known as a “maritime interception operation.” Maritime interception operations can include stopping, boarding, searching, and even seizing cargo from a vessel. There are a number of legal bases to conduct interception operations, including a state’s need to protect its forces and antiterrorism operations.
States can legally conduct maritime interception operations pursuant to international law in self-defense to protect its forces. Naval commanders have an inherent right and an obligation to defend their units and other nearby friendly forces from hostile acts or hostile intent. That means that a commander may stop and board another vessel if necessary in self-defense.
During the Battle of Scarif at the end of Rogue One, Rebel forces openly attacked a major Imperial facility and made off with critical classified intelligence. Darth Vader’s Star Destroyer exited hyperspace to a chaotic scene in which Alliance warships were still in open combat. Under the circumstances, Vader had ample reason to exercise the inherent right to self-defense and attack the Rebel fleet.
The Rebel flagship, The Profundity, presented the biggest threat, which meant that Vader could legally disable and seize the vessel. Even though his Star Destroyer made short work of disabling The Profundity, the Rebel flagship still housed enemy personnel and weapons, which presented a threat to Imperial forces. The theft of the Death Star plans also presented a threat to Imperial forces that arguably triggered the need to act in self-defense. The plans were critical classified information that, if exploited, could endanger the lives of millions of Imperials aboard the battle station. Given the Rebels’ evasive abilities, it was imperative that the plans be recovered as quickly as possible. Vader thus had sound legal footing to disable and board the Rebel flagship.
Vader prepares to defend himself against vicious and threatening Rebel terrorists.
In spite of Leia’s outrage at the start of A New Hope, Darth Vader was also on solid legal footing when he captured and boarded her ship. Even though Leia and her crew did not actively participate in combat above Scarif, their actions still forfeited the ship’s sovereign immunity.
Vessels can be legally intercepted if they take part in acts of terrorism. The 1988 United Nations Convention for the Suppression of Unlawful Acts Against the Safety of Maritime Navigation (SUA) established a legal framework governing acts of violence against ships. The SUA convention happened in response to the 1986 hijacking of an Italian cruise ship, the Achille Lauro, in which an American tourist was killed. In 2005, major amendments were made to the SUA treaty in order to combat terrorism. Under SUA, a ship can be stopped, seized, and boarded if it has committed or taken part in terrorist acts, even if there is no need to do so in self-defense.
The Empire generally regarded the Rebel Alliance as a terrorist organization, which means the attack at Scarif would have been characterized as a major terrorist act. Darth Vader had absolute proof that Leia’s ship was involved in the attack, as he witnessed Leia’s ship receive the Death Star plans before narrowly escaping. After Vader caught up to the Tantive IV above Tatooine, there was no real need to stop the ship in self-defense. After all, Leia’s diminutive corvette posed little threat to Vader’s colossal Star Destroyer. However, Vader was legally justified to stop and board the Tantive IV because of its participation in a terrorist act.
Don’t you go lying to your father like that, General Organa. You’ll find yourself grounded aboard the Death Star.
The fact that Leia’s ship was branded as a Rebel vessel is also problematic for her. When Leia incredulously accuses Vader of boarding a diplomatic ship, he declares that she is part of the Rebel Alliance. This hints at a critical aspect of the law. Under international law, vessels that are not legitimately registered in any one nation are known as “stateless vessels.” They are not entitled to sovereign immunity and may be boarded by warships or other governmental vessels. Once Leia’s ship was declared part of a stateless terrorist organization, it lost its diplomatic protections. That is why it was so important for Leia to mask the ship’s participation in Rebel operations.
Even though we normally associate Vader with some of the worst war crimes in Star Wars, he actually managed to do things by the book when he stopped and boarded Leia’s ship. Just be sure not to tell him that unless you want to join Admiral Ozzel and Captain Needa in the throat hug club.
The Empire’s vile use of the Death Star, enslavement of entire worlds, and wrinkly psychopathic ruler generally don’t make for good examples when it comes to abiding by the law of war. Nevertheless, just like a broken clock, the Empire occasionally gets things right when it fights. The Jedha City ambush scene from Rogue One is one of those instances where the Empire doesn’t royally screw things up from a legal perspective. With Rogue One’s release on Blu-Ray and DVD today, it’s a perfect time to break down one of the best scenes in the movie and take away some lessons about how the law of armed conflict impacts military operations.
Even if you haven’t watched Rogue One in a while (if that’s the case, you should immediately cease reading this article and go rectify that travesty), you probably remember the scene we’re talking about. Cassian Andor and Jyn Erso are on Jedha in search of an Imperial cargo pilot who has defected with possible information about the Empire’s new top-secret super weapon, the Death Star. They soon find themselves caught in the middle of a major firefight, as Saw Gerrera’s insurgent forces ambush an Imperial patrol. Heavy fighting and general on-screen awesomeness then ensues.
Anakin would have to wait to have his fun until later in the movie when a bunch of Rebel troopers got to see a real lightsaber up close and personal.
Pre-Ambush
Gather ’round and let the sweet sounds of Imperial propaganda fill your ears.
The Jedha ambush scene begins with a pretty routine Imperial operation. A squad of stormtroopers escorts an Imperial “occupier” assault tank, which is transporting a number of kyber crystals. Of course, the Imperials do so with typical flare, using a loud-speaker to broadcast a message touting the moral high ground the Empire supposedly occupied. There is nothing unlawful about the Imperials’ use of the loudspeaker.
Psychological operations, which are commonly known by the shorthand “PSYOPS,” can be legal in various forms. PSYOPS have been around in one form or another for nearly the entire history of warfare, ranging from leaflets to loudspeaker messages and beyond. They are often a highly effective non-lethal way to affect enemy morale or sway civilian attitudes. For example, U.S. forces dropped over 29 million leaflets to Iraqi forces during the first Gulf War in the early 1990s. The leaflets portrayed the futility of resistance, the inevitability of their defeat, and placed blame on Saddam Hussein. After the war, 88% of Iraqi forces said they believed the messages and roughly 70% said the leaflets affected their decision to surrender. Thus, if the Imperials had Judge Advocates within their ranks, they would have raised no issue about using a loudspeaker to broadcast PSYOPS messages to the denizens of Jedha.
The most dangerous version of “I Spy.”
As the convoy enters a small plaza, the ambush is already in motion, unbeknownst to the patrol. Saw Gerrera’s insurgents employ spotting techniques from several vantage points, observing and communicating information about the patrol.
Their actions constitute what is known as “hostile intent.” Hostile intent is the threat of imminent use of force against friendly forces. Although Gerrera’s men were disguised as civilians, their spotting effectively reveals their status as combatants, making them lawful targets. Spotting is considered a demonstration of hostile intent because of its purpose: to gather information about the enemy and facilitate attacks. It is a tactic often used by fighters to gather intelligence on enemy forces. Spotting is also commonly used in ambushes, where a spotter will relay information designed to precisely time the attack. The act of spotting is therefore a precursor to the use of force.
That is exactly what Saw’s forces are doing in this scene as they rapidly relay information to coordinate multiple prongs of their ambush. Therefore, the Imperials would not have to wait to be fired upon before attacking. Had they realized what was happening, they could have lawfully fired on the spotters even before the insurgents attacked.
The Ambush Begins
TK-255 and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
Saw’s forces trigger the ambush with a grenade that is meant to surprise and confuse the Imperial patrol. The misdirection works, causing the stormtroopers to be preoccupied with locating the grenade’s source. Saw’s men seize the advantage, opening fire from all directions.
The insurgents’ deceptive tactic initially works well, as they inflict many casualties before the stormtroopers and tank can react. At this point, Saw’s men were committing hostile acts—attacks or other uses of force against friendly forces. The insurgents’ hostile acts make them lawful targets.
The patrol is within its legal right to fight back against the insurgents. Commanders retain the inherent right and obligation to exercise self-defense of their units in response to hostile acts. This also means that individual unit members retain the right to defend themselves and other members of the unit. Here, that means that each stormtrooper can use deadly force to defend themselves and other members of the unit. The Imperials in the patrol do just that, returning fire with blasters and the tank.
However, self-defense does not give soldiers a blank check to use unlimited force. Even in chaotic circumstances, the core principles of the law of armed conflict remain in effect. That includes the requirement to distinguish between civilians and military targets. To their credit, the Imperials maintain their discipline by focusing fire on the insurgents. While civilians are caught in the fray, Imperial troops distinguish their targets by returning fire on insurgent positions and not firing wildly all over the plaza.
Someone isn’t getting their security deposit back…
Additionally, the law of armed conflict requires military units to use proportional force in self-defense. That means the nature, duration, and scope of the force should be no more than is necessary to decisively counter the hostile act. This concept does not mean that the stormtroopers on Jedha could only return fire with blasters and grenades. The use of the tank to level the tower was lawful because of how the tower was being used. The patrol was taking heavy fire from insurgents in the tower, which provided excellent cover and concealment for Gerrera’s forces. The Imperials were therefore within their legal authority to fire on the tower with the tank, thereby quickly ending the insurgents’ strategic advantage.
Reinforcements Arrive
If only Saw Gerrera had recruited a few ewoks to fight on Jedha…
As the fighting raged on, the Imperials were eventually reinforced with more troops and an AT-ST. In the real world, the U.S. military coordinates combat operations on different levels. Tactical Operations Centers (TOCs) and Joint Operations Centers (JOCs) are used to ease that sort of coordination. Generally, TOCs and JOCs are the place where a commander plans, monitors, and directs tactical operations. TOCs and JOCs range from a group of connected tents to larger rooms that resemble a NASA mission control center.
TOCs and JOCs also play a key role in overseeing combat operations. For example, the JOC might display a live video feed from a drone that is providing surveillance for a convoy below. If that convoy gets attacked, the JOC will likely coordinate or direct close air support from nearby fighter jets. Judge Advocates are usually in TOCs and JOCs, advising commanders on the law of war every step of the way.
We see the effects of that sort of battlefield coordination on Jedha. As the ambush unfolded, the Imperial patrol would radio up to the TOC or JOC, which was likely housed inside the Star Destroyer looming over the city. The patrol would have reported “troops in contact,” or TIC. Declaring a TIC, as the practice is known, is an alert that friendly forces are engaged in combat. A TIC often triggers the rapid coordination of reinforcements and combat assets, such as close air support.
The concept of unit defense comes into play in situations like this one. Unit self-defense allows friendly forces to come to the defense of another unit. In the real world, that might occur when Apache attack helicopters provide air cover for a pinned down group of infantry. Here, Imperial forces lawfully called in support from an AT-ST and more troops to defend the patrol. Some of the stormtroopers from the original patrol were likely in need of medical evacuation and there were still other troops at risk in the immediate vicinity. The reinforcements ultimately had the desired effect, scattering Gerrera’s forces and allowing the Imperials to regroup.
Conclusion
Contrary to their general dastardly reputation, the Imperials actually managed to play by the rules during the Jedha ambush. Imperial haters should have no fear, as it wasn’t too long before Director Krennic and Governor Tarkin made sure everyone on Jedha knew what a real war crime looked like by obliterating Jedha City with the Death Star.
For the average Imperial officer, being deemed the “most wanted Imperial war criminal” is pretty low on the list of desirable titles, alongside “Vader Force-choke practice dummy,” “Palpatine dental hygienist,” and “airlock tester.” In the newest Star Wars novel, Aftermath: Empire’s End, the hunt is on for Admiral Sloane, who has just been given that ignominious label by the New Republic (formerly the Rebel Alliance). Sloane’s characterization as a war criminal begs the question: what case does the New Republic have against her?
WARNING: MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW FOR BOTH STAR WARS AFTERMATH & AFTERMATH: LIFE DEBT.
Rae Sloane, Aftermath, &Life Debt: A Quick Primer
Lend your ear to Papa Palpatine to get yourself up to speed on things.
Before we dive into the case against Admiral Sloane, it’s probably wise to catch everyone up who isn’t familiar with her character or the Aftermath trilogy of books. Author Chuck Wendig’s Aftermath trilogy follows the struggle between the fledgling New Republic (NR) and remaining Imperial forces following Return of the Jedi. The first novel, Aftermath, was released in late 2015 and was followed by Life Debtin July 2016. The trilogy’s final chapter,Empire’s End, will hit bookshelves on February 21st.
Our resident *alleged* war criminal, Rae Sloane is one of the major figures in the trilogy. Sloane was first introduced in the 2014 novel A New Dawn, and has made appearances throughout new canon material, including in Marvel’s Kanan comic series. Sloane, an unwaveringly loyal career Imperial officer, ascended the ranks to eventually command the Star Destroyer Vigilance during the Battle of Endor. Sloane survived the battle, emerging as one of the Empire’s last truly capable officers. In the wake of Endor, Sloane worked to rally the largest contingent of remaining Imperial forces under her command, becoming the new face of the Empire.
While Admiral Sloane is no tyrant or fanatical lunatic, a sequence of events in Life Debt end up painting a target squarely on her back. As the apparent commander of remaining Imperial forces, Sloane requests peace talks with the NR. The NR leaders agree to the meeting, seeing it as an opportunity to finally end the bloody conflict. In reality, the talks are intended as a ruse as the Empire launches an attack on the NR capital world of Chandrila. While Sloane knows that the peace talks are a sham, she does not know the full details of the attack plan, which was devised by a mysterious Imperial named Gallius Rax.
The peace talks coincide with a grand celebration on Chandrila commemorating the recent liberation of dozens of Rebel prisoners from a vile Imperial black site prison. Admiral Sloane travels to Chandrila and watches the celebration with Mon Mothma and other Rebel leaders, expecting the Imperial fleet to appear and unleash hell at any moment.
Instead, the former prisoners suddenly draw blasters and begin firing on civilians and Rebel leaders, including Mon Mothma. Admiral Sloane is caught off-guard by the method of attack, having expected a conventional military assault. As chaos erupts, she flees and battles with Norra Wexley, a NR pilot and central character who tries to capture her. Sloane manages to escape, escaping the planet in a cargo ship. In an ensuing investigation, the NR discovers that the former prisoners each had small biological implants that caused them to attack on command. The investigation revealed that an undercover Imperial agent on Chandrila had supplied concealable blasters to the prisoners and then triggered the prisoners’ implants, sparking the ambush.
The NR concludes that Sloane was involved in the ambush, which quickly earns her the vaunted title of most wanted Imperial war criminal.
Have you been the victim of an Imperial mind control biotech device? You may be entitled to compensation! Call 1-800-WE-SUE-IMPS today!
War Crimes 101
Before we go and put the hovercart before the bantha, lets take a look at what is meant by the term “war crime.” The law of war sets forth a mixture of rules, requirements, and prohibitions that collectively govern how war is waged. Those rules help set the boundary between lawful and unlawful acts on the battlefield. Think of them like the instructions on the inside of a board game box that tell you how to play the game. The U.S. Army’s Field Manual 27-10, which covers the law of warfare, defines war crimes as violations of the law of war by military or civilian persons. In other words, if you break one of the rules, it can be considered a war crime.
However, not every act by the enemy on the battlefield is considered a war crime. Merely fighting as part of the enemy force does not automatically make you a war criminal. Instead, you have to violate the law of war in some fashion to commit a war crime. For example, if Admiral Sloane ordered the Vigilance to unleash its turbolasers and engage the Rebel fleet at Endor, that order would not, by itself, make her a war criminal. She would be lawfully fighting the enemy and defending her ship. On the other hand, as we’ve seen before, Tarkin’s use of the Death Star to obliterate a planet full of civilians on Alderaan would cross the line and be considered a war crime.
With that in mind, the NR isn’t hunting Admiral Sloane as a war criminal simply because she fights for the Empire. Instead, she is pursued for her role in the ambush on Chandrila, which was an attack fraught with potential law of war violations.
Faking the Truce
Who knew that your favorite protocol droid was actually a dastardly war criminal?
If the NR captured NR and put her before a war crimes tribunal, prosecutors would lead off the charges with an accusation that she improperly used a flag of truce. Flags of truce are used as a way to ask to talk to the enemy, usually to negotiate surrender or to arrange some other end to fighting—think of someone waving a white flag and you’re on the right track. Using a flag of surrender or truce to gain some sort of military advantage has long been recognized as a violation of the law of war. The Army’s Field Manual 27-10 lists it as a customary war crime, while Article 8 of the International Criminal Court’s Rome Statute recognizes it as a serious breach of the law of war. Violating this rule is taken so seriously because it is a measure that helps bring an end conflicts. When a flag of truce is abused, especially to spring a sneak attack, opponents rapidly lose trust, which inevitably drags out the conflict.
Admiral Sloane would undoubtedly be accused of using the peace talks on Chandrila as a thinly veiled feint designed to help the Empire’s ambush succeed. Sloane’s communication to the NR about peace talks would be a prime prosecution exhibit. In the communication, Sloane asks to hold peace talks at the NR capital on Chandrila. Although Sloane did not formally wave around any sort of flag, her request made directly to NR leadership has the same effect.
That same communication would also be valuable evidence for other reasons. In it, Sloane claimed to be responsible for leaking the NR many pieces of highly valuable intelligence that led to some of their largest victories after Endor. Sloane explained that the leaks were intended to eliminate competition and shore up her position within the Empire. Sloane also specifically requested minimal security for the peace talks as a measure of good faith. NR witnesses, including Leia, would testify that Sloane’s posturing made them believe that her offer of truce was genuine. Sloane’s posturing as a Grand Admiral and her assertion about the intelligence leaks seemingly confirmed NR suspicions that she was in command of the largest remaining chunk of Imperial forces. This led NR leaders to believe that Sloane both possessed significant power and authority to legitimately offer peace talks.
Everyone knows that Neimoidians make the best space lawyers…and not just because they bring droidekas to court.
While there is clear proof Sloane requested the peace talks, the NR would have a harder time proving that she intended to improperly use the peace talks to set up the ambush. Just as with other crimes, most violations of the law of war require proof of a guilty state of mind, otherwise known as mens rea. Here, it wouldn’t be enough to simply prove that Admiral Sloane requested peace talks prior to the ambush. Prosecutors would have to go further and prove that she intended to falsely request the peace talks.
The NR lacks any sort of powerful direct evidence, such as a confession, to prove that Sloane falsely made the truce request. Instead, they would have to rely on several pieces of circumstantial evidence to make their case. The NR would first point to the tacit link between Sloane and the undercover Imperial agent who triggered the ambush. They would argue that Sloane, as a Grand Admiral and leader of Imperial forces would have logically had knowledge of such a complex and brazen attack.
To support that inference, prosecutors would argue that Sloane used the prospect of a truce to bring NR leadership together. The resulting concentration of high-ranking personnel made for an easier attack. The short time between Sloane’s arrival and the attack would serve as proof that the talks were merely a means to facilitate the attack, as her arrival was arguably the trigger point that brought the intended targets together.
Moreover, Sloane arguably demonstrated her criminal mindset during her escape from Chandrila. Norra Wexley, the NR pilot who chased Sloane, would be a critical witness to this point. Her visible injuries sustained in fierce hand-to-hand combat with Sloane would tell a powerful tale of just how desperate Sloane was to escape the planet. Prosecutors would point out that Sloane would not have run, fought, and stolen a shuttle to escape off world if she had truly come for legitimate peace talks. Using that lattice of circumstantial evidence, prosecutors would contend that Sloane’s sole intent behind organizing the peace talks was to set the conditions for a successful ambush. She therefore should be held criminally liable for improperly using a flag of truce.
Targeting Civilians
Palpatine’s loose adherence to the law of war would eventually get him thrown down the reactor shaft of his own Death Star.
The NR would also likely accuse Admiral Sloane of unlawfully and intentionally targeting civilians, including Mon Mothma. Under the law of war, it is unlawful to target or kill civilians who are not taking part in hostilities. Much like using a false flag of truce, the act of intentionally directing attacks against civilians is a serious breach of the law of war that can be severely punished. Given the overriding international desire to protect innocent noncombatants, this is among the most important restrictions in all of international law.
In Sloane’s case, the NR would introduce eyewitness testimony, holorecordings, and other similar evidence to show that scores of civilians, including Mon Mothma, were intentionally targeted in the attack. Footage of Mon Montha and other Chandrilans being shot at point-blank range would serve as a powerful testament to the innocent blood shed that day. However, since Admiral Sloane did not personally fire on any civilians, the real challenge for the NR would be to establish that she should be held criminally liable for the ambush.
The concept of holding commanders liable for the crimes of their subordinates is not new. In the 15th century, Peter Von Hagenbach was held criminally responsible for the acts of his soldiers, who pillaged villages and murdered civilians in Germany. While commanders can certainly be prosecuted for the crimes of their subordinates, that liability has limits. If a commander was not directly involved in a war crime, he must have been derelict in a way that contributed to or failed to prevent the offense to be held responsible. In other words, there must be some linkage between the commander and the crimes.
Following World War II, Japanese General Tomoyuki Yamashita was convicted for war crimes committed by his Soldiers throughout the Philippines. General Yamashita was not directly involved in the war crimes. Nonetheless, the tribunal concluded that the General knew or should have known about the crimes, given how widespread they were. That connection was enough to hold him responsible for the crimes of his soldiers since he did nothing to stop them. The Geneva Conventions later attempted to establish a firm standard in this area, requiring that a commander “knew, or had information which should have enabled them to conclude” that war crimes were being committed and failed to take measures to stop them.
Since Admiral Sloane did not pull the trigger on any civilian, the NR would be forced to prove that she knew or should have known that innocent civilians would be targeted in the attack. Just like above, the NR faces several gaps in evidence that present a challenge. There is no concrete proof of a direct link between Admiral Sloane and the undercover Imperial agent who triggered the ambush. The NR uncovered no communications between the two and the agent did not confess to taking any orders from Sloane. The NR would be forced to once again rely upon pieces of interlocking circumstantial evidence to prove its case.
Prosecutors would readily use Sloane’s position as Grand Admiral and her self-admitted intelligence leaks to the NR against her. Both serve as evidence of her intimate knowledge of the Empire’s operations and her access to critical information. They would argue that Sloane’s position and access to operational knowledge gave her ample means and opportunity to know about the ambush.
Prosecutors would underscore that argument by hammering upon the timing of Sloane’s visit to Chandrila. Those close timing of Sloane’s “peace talks” and the ambush would be portrayed as a closely coordinated plan, not some mere coincidence. Similarly, Sloane’s role in setting up the talks to draw in NR leadership would also be cast as proof of her intent for the ambush to target civilians such as Mon Mothma. Sloane’s presence on the ground would be attributed to the need to sell the genuineness of the peace talks. Her unwavering loyalty to the Empire and hatred of the Rebellion would be sold as the fuel for her motive a to personally oversee and witness the crippling ambush. Prosecutors would paint the picture that Admiral Sloane intended to carry out a decapitating strike against NR civilian leadership and citizens in the heart of their territory in a desperate attempt to turn the tide of war.
As a result, the NR would have a strong circumstantial case that Admiral Sloane knew that civilians would be intentionally targeted in the ambush and should be held criminally liable.
The moment when you realize hiring Threepio as your defense counsel was a terrible mistake.
For Admiral Sloane, the prospect of having everything she worked to achieve twisted around to prove her guilt is reason enough for to keep running. Since Sloane’s star defense witness also happens to be the same shadowy Imperial who set her up to take the fall on Chandrila, the odds that she’ll turn herself in and trust in the New Republic judicial system are approximately 3,720 to 1. In the end, all this talk of a possible Star Wars war crimes tribunal makes the legal geek in me wish Empire’s End would be one big Star Wars legal thriller, complete with Mr. Bones as the wacky (and slightly maniacal) bailiff:
