On an isolated farm at the outer reaches of a fascist empire, a mid-level government toady conducts interrogations under the guise of a government census. His true motive is to root out undocumented immigrants. When he discovers one, he swiftly corners a young migrant worker, attempting to coerce her into a sexual relationship. When she firmly declines, his violent tendencies surface. This disturbing scene resonates with the current climate in America, where ICE agents frequently apprehend immigrants—and sometimes even citizens—without accountability. However, this narrative unfolds not in the United States, but within the second and final season of Andor, the critically acclaimed Star Wars series that chronicles the emergence of the Rebel Alliance amid the oppressive grip of the Galactic Empire.
If watching the new season of Andor evokes thoughts of America's troubling shift towards fascism, it is likely by design. This connection aligns with the overarching themes of the Star Wars franchise, which has historically used the Empire as a powerful metaphor for various forms of tyranny, from the United States during the Vietnam War to ancient Rome's imperial rule. Notably, Andor marks a significant moment in the franchise, as it appears to reflect modern American politics more directly than any previous installment since Disney acquired Lucasfilm for $4 billion.
“The Empire is both incredibly stable and incredibly flexible as an entity to hang metaphors on,” explains historian Chris Kempshall, author of The History and Politics of Star Wars. “We, the audience, understand that the Empire is evil, so that doesn’t need to be explained to us. However, the details of the Empire have evolved significantly over time to reflect changes in real-world politics.” Until now, the Disney era of Star Wars has often been criticized for its lack of meaningful political commentary. In Episode VII—The Force Awakens, the antagonists are portrayed as generic Nazis, a simplified approach that establishes their malevolence without delving into deeper discussions about modern imperialism.
The sequel trilogy has primarily been preoccupied with exploring the essence of Star Wars itself, often at the expense of engaging with contemporary political issues. Even when Disney’s Lucasfilm has attempted to tackle more ambitious narratives, such as in The Acolyte, it has struggled to transcend corporate constraints and navigate a vocal, polarized fanbase keen on shifting the franchise rightward both politically and culturally. This context makes Andor feel like an exceptional triumph for the Star Wars universe. Critics widely regard it as the most significant addition to the franchise in years, representing a bold return to the incisive political commentary that characterized the series before Disney's acquisition.
While the first season of Andor effectively established its characters and setting, Season 2 fulfills the promise of delivering a narrative painfully relevant to contemporary America, where many are grappling with the unsettling realization that the democracy once deemed invulnerable is now precariously teetering. In the initial three episodes of Andor Season 2, which premiered on Disney+ on April 22, one of the intertwining storylines takes us to Mina-Rau, an agricultural planet located on the outer rim of the Star Wars galaxy. Here, a group of rebel soldiers masquerades as freelance mechanics, including Bix (Adria Arjona), a fugitive hiding on Mina-Rau without the proper documentation. The arrival of Imperial soldiers to conduct an unannounced “supply census” sends Bix into a panic.
“If they’re checking visas, it’s a problem,” she expresses with concern. A local farmer responds, “Look, they need the grain. They know we need help, and they know everyone isn’t legal. How hard they look, what they do—it’s been 10 years since the last audit; nobody’s happy.” This tension escalates further when the farmer ultimately betrays the rebels to the Empire, illustrating the complexities of moral choices in the face of authoritarian rule. Kempshall highlights that one of Andor’s most innovative aspects is its exploration of the “grassroots elements of fascism.” While audiences recognize that Palpatine embodies evil, the series underscores that it is often the ordinary citizens—those merely carrying out their jobs—who enable such malevolence.
“These are the ones who’ll kick your door in at 3 am or enforce changing laws,” Kempshall remarks. “They are the real face of the Empire, appearing normal, banal, and boring, yet profoundly terrifying. This reflects the reality of escalating oppression.” The Star Wars tradition of critiquing American imperialism traces back to its inception. Prior to creating Star Wars, Lucas was slated to direct Apocalypse Now for his friend, renowned director Francis Ford Coppola. When that project stalled, Lucas transformed the Vietnam War setting into a space opera, depicting the Viet Cong as the Rebel Alliance—a group of freedom fighters engaged in guerrilla warfare against a heavily armed, genocidal empire.
According to Kempshall, Lucas was explicit in early drafts about how the Empire symbolized an America succumbing to fascism. Upon returning to the Star Wars universe after a 16-year hiatus to direct the prequel trilogy, Lucas adopted a different metaphorical lens. Released in 1999, Star Wars: Episode I—The Phantom Menace serves as an allegory for the collapse of democracies into dictatorship, drawing parallels to historical figures such as Julius Caesar and Napoleon Bonaparte. By the conclusion of the prequel trilogy, particularly in Revenge of the Sith (2005), Lucas directed his critique towards President Bush, encapsulated in a pivotal moment where Anakin Skywalker declares, “If you’re not with me, you’re my enemy.” This line mirrors Bush’s post-9/11 rhetoric: “You’re either with us or against us.”
After the lukewarm reception of the sequels, Lucas distanced himself from the franchise before ultimately selling Star Wars to Disney. The company’s much-anticipated relaunch continued the Skywalker Saga three decades after Return of the Jedi (1983). In The Force Awakens, the remnants of the Empire reemerge as the First Order, adopting overtly Nazi-like traits with their billowing red flags and aggressive, shouting leaders. Kempshall notes that this shift to a more generic Nazi metaphor reflects a cultural zeitgeist that has evolved. “Vietnam isn’t a major pop culture touchstone anymore,” he explains. “Thus, the Empire needed to adapt to effectively convey a sense of evil.”
This was especially relevant in 2015, a year before Donald Trump’s presidency, but as we find ourselves a decade later, America is once again veering towards fascism. In this unexpected resurgence of political relevance, Star Wars serves to mirror contemporary political realities back to us, reminding audiences of the cyclical nature of history and the enduring fight against tyranny.
