The Art of Fictional War
Warfare has been a major component of both literature and human civilization since the very beginning. Ancient myths and religious texts are replete with major conflicts, from the Trojan War, to the War in Heaven in Paradise Lost, to the apocalyptic Kurukshetra War described in the Mahabharata. To this day, war stories, often based on historical conflicts, are one of the staples of all forms of media, spanning books, films, video games, and more.
The same holds true in fantasy and science fiction. Vast quantities of ink, celluloid, and data have been expended on battles in space, on alien worlds, in analogues of our own past featuring mythical creatures and magic powers. At their best, these fantastical war stories are exciting, thrilling, and can teach us something about the conflicts that beset our world, or rage in our own hearts. At their worst, they can be exploitative, uninspired, or just downright confusing.
The thing is that many science fiction and fantasy creators... don’t really know anything about actual warfare. Of course it’s not necessary for them to be veterans of conflict themselves, or students of military history like myself. Those things don’t hurt; J.R.R. Tolkien, the OG-GOAT, was both a veteran of combat in the First World War and a keen student of history. Though he tended not to describe his battle scenes in The Lord of the Rings in great detail, what detail he did give was exciting, logically and narratively consistent, and authentic. See Bret Deveraux’s brilliant and extremely detailed analysis of the Helm’s Deep campaign on his blog.
Many writers and creators who lack this academic or personal knowledge are able to craft excellent, authentic battle sequences regardless. In other cases, it doesn’t turn out so well. For a terrible example from the same fictional universe, see the laughable Battle of the Five Armies in the third Hobbit film (Why do the elves jump out from behind the shields? WHY? DO YOU EVEN SHIELD WALL?)
As a lover of both sci-fi / fantasy and military history, I decided an excellent use of my limited time would be to analyze the real-world military principles (or absence thereof) in these genres, through a series of blog posts comparing one good example, and one bad one. And no, this was not just an excuse to watch a bunch of sci-fi battles over and over again and take notes.
Okay, maybe that’s part of it. Damn the torpedoes! Cry havoc! Let slip the blogs of war!
THE MILITARY ART
Before we dive into our first set of examples, I wanted to clarify a couple of points. I won’t drag you through an exhaustive survey of military history, military theory, or god forbid, historiography. It would however be useful to define three terms in particular: Strategy, Operations, and Tactics. In casual conversation, terms like strategy and tactics are often used interchangeably. This makes sense, since they’re regularly used in a non-military context—to describe a business “strategy,” or a manager’s “tactics” in a football game for example. In a military context, however, these terms have very specific meanings and usages, and they must not be mistaken.
STRATEGY
In essence, strategy refers to the broad, high-concept goals of the combatants in any given conflict, and the high-level methods used to achieve them. How far-reaching these goals and methods are will depend upon the size of the conflict and the means available to the combatants. For example, the strategy of the Soviet Union in the invasion of Afghanistan (prop up a local communist puppet government through counterinsurgency operations) was vastly different from the strategy of the Soviet Union in the Second World War (survive a genocidal invasion by the Nazis, then counter-invade and conquer the Nazi empire for yourself by means far too complex to sum up in one parenthetical digression).
Strategy is at once the simplest level of the military art—in that it’s usually the easiest to outline in simple terms—as well as the most complex, and by far the most important. A good strategy can make up for a lot of deficiencies in say, raw combat power (see the 1939-42 Western Allies), while a bad or half-baked strategy can erase any advantages your forces might have on paper (see Russia’s disastrous initial invasion of Ukraine last year).
OPERATIONS
Next step down the ladder is operations, a term which hasn’t really found its way into the casual lexicon. Broadly speaking, operations are how each combatant’s resources are deployed in order to achieve specific strategic objectives. While strategy might cover how many tanks are built and when, operations determine where the armies that get those tanks actually go, and what they do when they get there.
Napoleon Bonaparte is considered by many to be the all-time great master of the operational art, because he was able to coordinate and move his armies in such a way as to make up for his near-constant deficiency in numbers relative to his opponents. Often, he could accurately predict how his opponents would move so that he could isolate their armies and bring them to battle at times and places of his choosing.
However, while great operational skill can make up for some strategic deficiencies, it cannot win wars on its own when strategy is fundamentally flawed; see the German Army on the Eastern Front in the Second World War, which won a string of incredible operational and tactical victories from 1941-43, only to fall victim to their own overreach and a superior Soviet strategy.
TACTICS
The lowest and in some ways least important step on the ladder is tactics, which deals with what actually happens on the battlefield once opposing forces meet. The general rule is that tactics can win a battle, but they can’t win a war. Vastly superior American squad and platoon-level tactics and firepower won battle after battle against the Taliban in Afghanistan, but couldn’t prevent the US-backed government from falling to that same enemy mere months after the American withdrawal in 2021. For all that, because tactics have the greatest immediate impact on the individual combatants, this is also the level that we most commonly see represented in media.
Okay, that’s enough of a military theory lesson—I think. If I get a lot of questions, or if it’s relevant, I’ll go into more detail in future episodes. Now, onto the show! We’ll cover both fantasy in sci-fi in this series, but for this first episode, let’s look at some examples of my all-time favorite form of fictional warfare: the space battle.
BAD – THE BATTLE OF CORUSCANT, REVENGE OF THE SITH
Now, this choice may come as a surprise to some of you. I’m sure many of you consider Revenge of the Sith to be the best of the Star Wars prequels (false: the best, or least bad, prequel film is The Phantom Menace, but we can discuss that another time). Those who make that claim often cite the opening Battle of Coruscant as one of the film’s highlights, a thrilling spectacle showcasing impressive visual effects and exciting action.
I won’t deny the battle is a spectacle, but “solid military principles” are not among the things on display. And yes, the opening shot is quite exciting, with the camera following two lonely fighters along the hull of their mothership, then diving past it into the massive battle below as John Williams’ score drives them onward.
Unfortunately, things rapidly devolve from there. Let’s take a look at the battle itself from the perspective of each layer, starting with:
THE STRATEGIC
The opening crawl begins by informing us that “WAR!” is happening, a WAR! In which there are “heroes on both sides,” and “evil is everywhere.” Presumably as a result, “the Republic is crumbling;” to make matters worse, the Separatist leader General Grievous has “swept into the Republic capital and kidnapped Chancellor Palpatine.” Now, the Republic fleet has rushed in to Coruscant to prevent the Separatists from escaping with the kidnapped Chancellor.
Already, there are a number of problems here. First: how exactly did the Separatist fleet manage this decapitation strike against the Republic? This raises the question of what the balance of power between the two sides actually is. We don’t need to see charts outlining their relative fleet strengths and industrial potential, but something would be useful to give us an idea of what is at stake here.
In the previous film, the war had just begun, and the Separatists had lost a major battle at the location of their apparent main industrial base. What has happened in the interim? Have Republic defenses already crumbled to the point that a fleet can waltz in and lay siege to their capital world? In fact, beyond that, to the point where that fleet can deploy ground troops to said capital and actually abduct the head of state with apparently minimal resistance?
Clearly they must have, since we see that occurring. Or perhaps, since we know Palpatine is secretly pulling the strings of this war, he maneuvered things to leave Republic defenses open so that the Separatists could get through.
That leads us to the much more important question: why have the Separatists kidnapped Palpatine at all? I understand that he’s the head of state, and thus a clear priority target in a time of war. That’s not what I mean. Why kidnap him? What do the Separatists achieve by grabbing him, then fleeing the system? What exactly will occur if the Republic fleet fails to prevent this?
THE OPERATIONAL
On the face of it, the Separatist fleet appears to have utterly wasted an incredible strategic opportunity. If the way to Coruscant was open, to the extent that the Separatists could get an entire battle fleet into orbit unopposed for enough time to conduct a complex operation to kidnap the most closely guarded dude in the galaxy, why in the name of the Force would they waste that opportunity kidnapping said dude?
Instead, Grievous could easily have bombarded Coruscant’s major political and industrial centers into dust. Or, better yet—threatened to bombard the city-choked surface, killing millions in a span of minutes, unless the Republic agreed to terms. Presumably the Separatists are planning to do something similar, but less effective: hold Palpatine hostage and force the Republic into negotiations on Separatist terms. Wouldn’t holding the entire planet hostage, including Palpatine, be far more effective?
Even if the Separatists have decided to nab Palpatine—why flee the system with him? Once he’s on Grievous’s ship, they can just threaten to kill him unless terms are agreed to. Then, when they see a rescue operation is being launched to recover the Chancellor, they can actually kill him, decapitating the Republic leadership and eliminating the one man on the Republic side most responsible for continuing the war.
Again, I understand that this is all, in theory, part of Palpatine’s master plan. It’s doubtful he would allow himself to be killed. But Grievous and the Separatists don’t know that. Why don’t they do these things? Why don’t they even suggest them? This seems like a half-baked operation at best, which is utterly unforgivable given the massive strategic potential Coruscant’s apparently weak defenses created.
The picture of the operation on the Republic side is not much better. Leaving aside whatever the excuse is for leaving the capital virtually defenseless, now that a fleet is in orbit and the Chancellor kidnapped, something must be done.
But is charging pell-mell at the Separatist fleet really the best option? What’s to stop Grievous from relieving Palpatine of his head, or turbo-lasering the poor citizens of Coruscant the second the Republic Navy makes a move? That fact that he apparently chooses to do neither of these things does not excuse the Republic’s lack of consideration for this possibility.
THE TACTICAL
Honestly, there’s not much to say at this level, because the fleet battle seems to be little more than a confused, disorganized, every-ship-for-itself melee. Few ships apart from Kenobi and Skywalker’s fighter escort seem to be using formations of any kind; instead capital ships are either whizzing around or sitting motionless shooting at one another in duels for some reason.
Granted, fleet battles do sometimes become confused, every-ship-for-themselves melees. But there’s always a reason for that, such as poor ship handling, tactical training, or discipline. Conversely, one side may deliberately seek a general melee in order to sow confusion amongst the enemy and take advantage of their side’s superior ship or weapon handling skills; the most famous real-world example of this is the Battle of Trafalgar (1805), in which Admiral Horatio Nelson dispensed with 18th century tradition and used this tactic to defeat a numerically superior Franco-Spanish fleet.
None of these factors seem likely to apply here. Given their horrendously flawed strategic and operational choices up to this point, the Separatists would be better served by maintaining a tight formation protecting Grievous’s flagship, giving it the maximum chance to punch through the Republic fleet and escape. The Republic would be best served by throwing a cordon in front of the Separatist fleet to slow them down while the Jedi strike force flies in to board the command ship and recover the Chancellor. That part at least makes some kind of sense, but only if you have arrived at this lowly state by the series of crushing missteps already outlined.
In any case, the two Jedi are able to reach Grievous’s command ship. They fight and fumble their way through it, ultimately dueling with and killing the Sith Lord tasked with guarding Palpatine. They are unable to leave the ship, and instead take control of it, crash landing it into a spaceport on Coruscant, but technically rescuing the Chancellor, whose plan all this was anyway.
AFTERMATH
Evidently this results in the battle being won for the Republic, because in the next scene there are no more Separatist ships in orbit. What impact this has on the war is unclear.
Final verdict: 2/10 Happy Landings
GOOD – THE BATTLE OF ENDOR, RETURN OF THE JEDI
Just to prove that Star Wars can do it right, let’s look at the climactic battle that takes up most of ROTJ’s third act. In retrospect, the Battle of Coruscant is clearly trying (and failing) to outdo the Battle of Endor, which arguably remains the best space battle ever committed to film.
This one takes place later in its host movie, so we don’t need the opening crawl to help us understand it. Indeed much of the film’s second act, as well as the two preceding films in the trilogy, have directly or indirectly been setting up this clash, so that we fully understand everything that’s at stake before the first shot is fired.
Let’s break it down:
THE STRATEGIC
By this point in the original trilogy, we have a very clear high-level picture of the comparative strength of the two sides in the titular Star War.
The Galactic Empire still controls most of the galaxy, and has massive resources at its disposal. The Imperial Navy remains as powerful as ever, and while the size and strength of their ground forces has never been made clear, they are likely undiminished as well. The resources of the Empire are so considerable, in fact, that a mere three years after the destruction of the first Death Star, a second Death Star is already nearing completion. A single such massive engineering project would be beyond the reach of most powers; the Empire has two.
Yet, for all that immense power, the Empire has so far been unable to crush the “insignificant rebellion.” The Alliance to Restore the Republic has come a long, long way from its humble beginnings (portrayed brilliantly in the recent series Andor). Even at the time of the Battle of Yavin, the best the Rebellion could muster was a few squadrons of fighters. They really were teetering on the brink of annihilation, had the first Death Star completed its apocalyptic mission on that day.
The Empire’s counter strike in the years that followed harried the Rebels, but did not destroy them. Even after the disastrous Battle of Hoth, we saw that the Rebellion was in the process of marshaling a small fleet in the safety of intergalactic space. Now, that fleet has become far more impressive, including a large number of capital ships—clearly drawing resources from a growing number of planets and systems prepared to openly defy the Empire.
However, we also know that this is not a Rebel fleet, but the Rebel Fleet. This is all they have; if it’s destroyed, the Rebellion is lost. What we’re seeing depicted here is the transition of the Rebellion from the guerrilla phase of an insurgent war to the conventional phase. This is the point at which insurgent forces stop relying exclusively on hit & run attacks, bombings, and the like, and start to engage government or occupation forces on their own terms. This is a necessary step toward achieving ultimate victory, but it is also by far the most dangerous one.
Before this phase, the insurgency is effectively unbeatable; there might always be a handful of people setting off bombs or shooting security personnel and running away. The insurgency can sputter out and die as it loses momentum, but it can’t be destroyed. The moment the insurgency becomes a conventional military force, it opens itself up to total defeat. See North Vietnam, Communist China, and the Colonial United States for examples of this transition succeeding; see the Malayan Communist Party, Islamic State in Iraq, and the Tamil Tigers for examples of this transition failing, leading to utter destruction or surrender.
Of course, we don’t need to know about insurgency theory or its historical parallels to understand this in the context of the film. Because it’s a good film, we get it from the way the characters talk about the situation, and from what we’ve seen happen in the trilogy up to this point.
The point is: no single Imperial fleet matters as much to the Empire as the Rebel fleet does to them. The Empire could lose a dozen fleets and still win the war in the long run. As such, the Rebels would be fools to risk their fleet in a stand-up fight. To justify sending it into battle, to justify even massing it in one place, the reward has to be worth the incredible risk.
THE OPERATIONAL
And in this case, it is. The Rebels have received intelligence that Death Star II is temporarily vulnerable to a surgical strike. Even more importantly, they’ve learned the date that the Emperor himself will be visiting the unfinished battle station. A strike against it could quite literally decapitate the Empire in one fell swoop, leading to a collapse in Imperial morale and cohesion. Furthermore, it would serve as a clarion call to the rest of the galaxy that the Rebellion is here to win, and that they can actually do it.
To achieve this strategic objective, the Rebels need to mount a complex operation. A commando team will have to be infiltrated onto the forest moon of Endor, to destroy the ground-based shield generator protecting Death Star II when the space assault begins. That assault will be spearheaded by a strike group of Rebel fighter squadrons, relying on their superior initiative, pilot skill, and survivability to outmaneuver their more numerous Imperial opponents, fly into the Death Star, and destroy its main reactor. Meanwhile, the rebel main battle fleet will screen this strike force against any Imperial reinforcements that arrive during the battle.
Of necessity, the operation relies heavily on surprise. If the Imperials knew the Rebels were coming, they would be able to mass an unassailable naval force around Death Star II, making the assault a suicide mission. This is, of course, a weakness—but the Rebel command knows this. They’ve simply decided that the reward is worth the risk.
On the other side, the Emperor has his own master plan, as always. He knows that the Rebellion has reached a critical juncture, and that his best opportunity to crush it has finally arrived. But he also knows that the Rebels are too wily to bring their fleet to battle for any old prize, even one as massive as the second Death Star. So, he has decided to use himself as additional bait—a massive risk on his part, but one he’s willing to take.
Firstly, the Emperor’s ability to see (at least part of) the future has made him overconfident; he does not believe he will be killed, because he has not foreseen it. Secondly, he wants to be there in person because he has foreseen that Luke Skywalker will come for his father, Darth Vader. This will give Palpatine the opportunity to turn the young Jedi to the Dark Side, thus completing his spiritual/religious and his military/political victories over the galaxy in a single stroke.
To achieve these objectives, the Emperor’s plan is equally complex. He will allow the Rebels to recover intelligence regarding the condition and location of Death Star II, as well as his planned secret visit. When the Rebel ground team arrives, he will ensure they are captured, and that Skywalker is brought before him. Then, when the Rebel fleet arrives, unawares, he will allow them to approach the Death Star before a massive Imperial fleet hyperspaces in behind them, trapping them so they can be destroyed.
With both operations set in motion, the decision is left to the final layer:
THE TACTICAL
The Rebel commando team sees some initial success, but then is indeed captured—not before Skywalker allows himself to be taken prisoner and brought aboard the Death Star to confront Vader in person. The Rebel fleet rushes into the Imperial trap. When the Star Destroyers arrive, all seems lost; surely the Imperial Navy will smash the smaller Rebel force to pieces at their moment of maximum confusion, shortly after the trap is sprung.
This, however, does not occur, owing to the first great misstep of the campaign. Rather than allow the Imperial Navy to strike the death blow against the Rebels, Palpatine has decreed that the Rebels should merely be held in place so that Death Star II can pick their capital ships off one by one, while endless waves of TIE Fighters claw away at the smaller vessels.
Why? We see that this is an inefficient way of eliminating the Rebel fleet; the Imperial Navy officers even comment on it. Palpatine does not explicitly state his reasoning, but from what we know of the man and his priorities, we can make some educated guesses.
Firstly, Palpatine does not want to simply defeat the Rebels. He wants to humiliate them. He will deny them the opportunity to die in a heroic last stand; instead, they will see that they have lost, then be forced to suffer the terrifying ignominy of watching their ships die one by one, and knowing there is nothing they can do to stop it. This plan is an expression of Palpatine’s contempt for the Rebels. The Death Star is an embodiment of his belief in raw power, of his will to dominate. Using it as the primary implement of the Rebels’ destruction is a highly symbolic act.
Furthermore, Palpatine has a religious motivation for this inefficient plan: he wants Luke to see it happening. Skywalker will be forced to watch the destruction, feeling just as helpless as his friends and comrades in the Rebel fleet. Finally, when the young Jedi can take no more, he will lash out in the only way Palpatine has left available to him, relying on his hatred to destroy Palpatine himself. Again, Palpatine knows he will not succeed, but will instead complete his own fall to the Dark Side, ensuring the Emperor’s final victory.
However, all does not proceed as the Emperor has foreseen. The Rebel fleet is not content to sit by and allow themselves to be shot like fish in a barrel. Instead, they execute a seemingly suicidal charge into the teeth of the Imperial fleet, engaging the Star Destroyers at point-blank range. This has the dual effect of making it more difficult for the Death Star to target their capital ships, and of disrupting the Imperial formation, allowing the Rebels to take advantage of their superior individual initiative, pilot skill, and motivation.
Meanwhile, on the ground, the relationship the Rebel commando team cultivated with Endor’s native population bears fruit. The Ewoks launch a surprise attack against the Imperial Stormtrooper force, freeing the commandos. Against all odds, the commando team is able to complete their mission and destroy the shield generator, providing a short window for the Rebel fleet to assault the Death Star.
Seeing their chance, the survivors of the Rebel fighter force form an ad-hoc strike group and make for the Death Star at top speed. Commanding the main battle force, Admiral Akbar decides to concentrate his remaining firepower on a single target: the Imperial Navy command ship Executor. The gambit succeeds, and the Super Star Destroyer is annihilated, throwing the rigid command structure of the Imperial fleet further into disarray.
Shortly thereafter, and at heavy cost, the Rebel fighter force reaches the main reactor of the second Death Star and cripples it, triggering a chain reaction. At almost the same time, Luke Skywalker’s own gamble pays off, when Darth Vader turns on the Emperor and kills him. Minutes later, the Death Star II is destroyed; the Imperial fleet retreats in disorder, ending the Battle of Endor in a costly but total victory for the Rebel Alliance.
AFTERMATH
The destruction of the second Death Star alone would have been a heavy and embarrassing blow to Imperial pride; the defeat of an Imperial fleet and the death of Palpatine himself in the bargain make this nothing short of a calamity for the Galactic Empire.
The Rebel Alliance, meanwhile, has proved that it is a viable alternative to the Empire. This will likely encourage even more Imperial systems to openly defect and join the Rebellion. Now, the real war will begin; it is unclear how or if the Empire can recover from a defeat of this magnitude.
Final Verdict: 100% of Death Stars Destroyed
CONCLUSION
The difference between the level of strategic, operational, and tactical acumen on display in these two battles should be quite clear by now, and doesn’t need belaboring here. One related point, from a storytelling rather than a purely military perspective: isn’t the narrative of the Battle of Endor far more satisfying?
In part the comparison is unfair, since Endor is the capstone on an entire trilogy, while Coruscant is merely an action scene starting off a single film. On the other hand, the fact that the Battle of Coruscant isn’t climactic doesn’t mean that it can’t have a story, or some real stakes. Look at the Battle of Hoth in The Empire Strikes Back (as we doubtless will soon)—there’s a very clear micronarrative that fits into the overarching narrative of the war between the Rebel Alliance and the Galactic Empire. The fact that we know exactly what’s a stake there, as at Endor, is why we become emotionally invested in those conflicts and can pore over every little tactical decision made in them for years, whereas Coruscant is mostly remembered for the fact that the first shot is really cool, and that they put a kitchen sink into it.
Well, I guess that’s about it for this episode. Let me know what your thoughts are on these battles and which conflicts you might like to see analyzed next! I’m always open to suggestions, particularly if it means watching cool SFF battles again. For research.