Can a science fiction saga reveal the crisis of our democracies?
In 2002, 25 years after the release of the first film, George Lucas returned to the Star Wars universe with Attack of the Clones, the second chapter of the prequel trilogy. But beneath the science fiction veneer lies a surprisingly sharp and relevant political narrative.
Inspired by the collapse of the Roman Republic and shaken by the post-9/11 climate, Lucas crafted a story about hollowed-out democracies, fears that justify abuses, and consent that paves the way for authoritarian shifts.
There is a scene, on the planet Naboo, where Queen Jamillia reflects with Senator Padmé:
“The day we stop believing democracy can work is the day we lose it.”
Today, that line echoes as a warning.
We live surrounded by the word “democracy,” but often without truly listening to it. It’s invoked on every occasion: to justify imposed decisions, to legitimise conflicts, to give a noble air to questionable choices.
But beyond the rhetoric, democracy is a serious matter. It is the only system in practice where power comes from the people and serves, or should serve, the good of all.
Yet it is not perfect.It is fragile. It is demanding. It is in constant construction.
The democracy we know is not that of classical Athens, nor the one idealised in 18th-century Europe.
It is a living organism, one that changes with the times, with the demands for justice, voice, and recognition.
It is a process where every step forward must be earned and defended.
Having achieved more inclusion, more equity, and more representation, the risk today is distraction.
It doesn’t take brute force to bring down a democracy.
Often, silence is enough: ambiguous laws, muted voices, distorted information.
Democracy dies even in the applause of those who confuse control with security.
Just like in the pivotal scene of Revenge of the Sith (2005): the Senate applauds the Emperor’s rise, and Padmé whispers:
“So this is how liberty dies: with thunderous applause.”
A movie line. A chill from reality.
Democracy is participation, conflict, disillusionment. But precisely for this reason, it must be guarded.
Because it is the space where each voice can still matter. Where dissent is wealth, not guilt. Where those who govern can, and must, be held accountable.
It’s not a perfect mechanism. It’s a promise.
A promise that no one should fear the state.
That everyone can speak their mind.That power doesn’t become the property of the few.
Believing in democracy, in difficult times, is not naivety.
It’s courage, vigilance, and presence.
A powerful act for the survival of a common good we cannot take for granted.
Because when we stop believing in it, it’s already too late.
And no Jedi will come to save us.
