I think the case for Andor being the most subversive Star Wars text lies not in the righteous framing of anti-imperial and anti-fascist violence, but in Nemik's use of "Try" in his manifesto. In one a scene from The Empire Strikes Back, Yoda is training Luke to use the Force and tells him to levitate his X-Wing from the bottom of a swamp. To this, Luke, still in his head-empty himbo era, says he'll "try." Yoda, in one of the most oft-quoted lines from the original trilogy, replies:
Now, I can't speak to this concept's importance to Force-use, but as political praxis it leaves much to be desired. To not try is to inhibit one's ability to affect change on the world--exactly what a state-sanctioned order of priest cops would want, but that's another post. Go listen to A More Civilized Age for more on that.
I think Nemik's call to "Try" is a core theme in Andor, just as "Hope" was core to Rogue One (both texts use the metaphor of a spark to light the fire). There are key differences between these texts, however, and these differences reflect a larger ideological rift between Andor and most other Star Wars properties.
Hope is something abstract and immaterial and, like the Force, it is in short supply among subjects of empire (both real and in Star Wars). While they may require Hope to sustain them past a certain point, revolutions are not built on Hope, they are built on the righteous anger of people who will not take it anymore. Let's take a look at an absolute banger line in Andor:
It's easy for the dead to tell you to fight, and maybe it's true, maybe fighting is useless. Perhaps it's too late. But I'll tell you this, if I could do it again, I'd wake up early and be fighting these bastards from the start.
Are these hopeful words?
No! Maarva isn't calling on her community to fight because she has believes that they can defeat the Empire, she wants them to fight because that's what you do when the fascists come to town. It's a desperate, almost defeatist (revolutionary defeatist...? wait, no that's something else), call to action devoid of any real forethought. She's telling them to try, to act, regardless of whether some magical force will help guarantee their success a la the original trilogy.
Andor is filled with desperate people striking out at the Empire in small ways, knowing they may fail: the Aldhani crew on their suicide mission, Brasso protecting B2 and then braining that trooper with Maarva's brick, Wilmon building his bomb, Kino committing to the breakout knowing he can't swim from a prison he knows is surrounded by water.
It is these individual acts that build into pockets and then networks of solidarity, enabling disparate communities to carry out anti-imperial praxis from anywhere, whether that be mutual aid, sabotage, theft, or militant attacks. This is how revolution begins. As Nemik writes:
It occurs spontaneously and without instruction. Random acts of insurrection are occurring constantly throughout the galaxy. There are whole armies, battalions that have no idea that they've already enlisted in the cause. Remember that the frontier of the Rebellion is everywhere. And even the smallest act of insurrection pushes our lines forward.
...
Remember this. Try."
Whether you're Separatists, Neo-Republicans (dni), Ghorman Front, Partisan Alliance, Sectorists, Human Cultists (gross), Galaxy Partitionists, to do, you must try.
You may not succeed, but you must try.
In summary, Luke should have punted that little goblin into the swamp.
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where can I put it down?
a missing scene from Andor s1e2 that picks up right after Cassian tells Maarva, "I messed up."
read on ao3
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“Just tell me what happened,” Maarva said at last, exhaustion and distress plain in her voice.
Cassian, still crouched down on the floor next to Bee, lowered himself to sit next to Maarva’s chair. He ran a hand over his face, and sighed. He didn't look at her.
“I've been looking for Kerri,” he said in a low voice. Cassian looked up for long enough to see the pain flash across Maarva's face. “I tracked down a rumor that a girl from Kenari was working at… an establishment on Morlana One. I was just there to ask a few questions, but I probably said too much, told them I was looking for my sister.” Maarva sighed. “The boss said there was a girl from Kenari working there, but she left. Wouldn’t give me a name. So that’s it, dead end.”
“I’m sorry, dear,” Maarva said, and she lay a gentle hand on Cassian’s shoulder, squeezing him a little. “What went wrong, then?”
“Two corpos harassed me, for nothing,” Cassian said, feeling the rage he’d felt that night burning in his throat. “I wasn’t just going to let them push me around! I didn’t mean to kill them, Ma…”
He looked up at his mother, then, desperate, needing her to understand. The sorrow he saw in her eyes, and the relief of telling her what had happened, and all the rage and upset he was feeling made a lump form in his throat and pushed tears into his eyes.
Before he could blink them away, turn his head, get up and go find Bix, he felt Maarva’s hand on his head, in his hair, her thumb tenderly stroking the side of his face, and his tears spilled over onto his cheeks.
Cassian let his head drop down to rest on the arm of Maarva’s chair, and let her pet his hair as he cried very quietly. At least he wouldn’t have to keep looking into her face, that expression filled with sorrow, and love, and forgiveness.
Bee let out a concerned trill, and moved from their charging station to bump up against Cassian’s side. He lifted his arm to let them snuggle closer, and Bee made a happy sound that made Cassian giggle a little despite himself. Maarva chuckled quietly.
“I’m sorry, Ma,” he said, a raw whisper.
“You really don’t need to say that, Cassian,” Maarva replied. “None of this is your fault; you’ve made some choices, yes, but you had every right to defend yourself against those bastards. I’m not angry with you. I’m just… afraid. I’m afraid for you.”
Cassian sniffled, and kept his cheek pressed against the familiar leather of Maarva’s chair.
“Look at me, Cass,” she said, and gently nudged his bearded chin with one hand, guiding his face to look towards hers. He let himself be guided, and looked at her.
She smiled a little sadly, but her eyes were full of love.
“I love you,” she told him, with characteristic firmness. “I don’t want you to forget that. I know I can’t be of much help anymore, but… I’m on your side. Always have been. We’ll get through this together, hm?”
He swallowed against the lump beginning to form again in his throat, and nodded, then reached up and took her hand in his, squeezing gently.
“I love you, too, Ma,” Cassian murmured softly.
Maarva smiled a little at that, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, and a comfortable silence passed between them. It wasn’t until Maarva began moving her fingers over his bandaged hand with concerned curiosity that Cassian realized he’d forgotten to keep hiding his injury from her.
“Did you put bacta on this?”
“No…” Cassian replied reluctantly.
Maarva made an exasperated sound and moved to get up out of her chair.
“Ma, don’t, I’ll get it!”
“No, you stay,” she said, pushing down on his shoulder with one hand, both to keep him sitting and to lever herself up. “I’m perfectly capable of walking across the house. And you need to give that droid some attention, they’ve been pining for you for weeks now.”
With that, she stalked off across the house to the medicine cabinet.
“That is t-t-true,” Bee stated matter-of-factly, their head swiveling to look at Cassian. “I have m-m-missed you, Cassian!”
“I’ve missed you too, Bee,” Cassian said, putting an arm around them again, and leaning down to press his cheek against Bee’s rough metal surface. He wrapped his other arm around them, and Bee chirped happily.
“You’ve been such a good friend to me,” Cassian whispered. “I’m sorry I haven’t been a better one for you.”
Cassian felt Bee’s head shift under him into what was probably a quizzical position.
“I d-d-don’t understand,” Bee replied, sounding genuinely puzzled. Cassian could feel his motors working hard. “You are the b-b-best friend. I just want to see you more. M-M-Maarva does too.”
Cassian blinked, and his hands tightened their grip around Bee’s metal ridges.
“I want that, too,” he managed. “It’s not that I don’t want to be here. I just… I don’t know what to do with myself. I want to be good to you both, be at my best for you, but most days I don’t know how to be good to myself, so… it’s hard. It’s easier to be out there, fucking around.”
Bee took his time processing that one.
“That is ok-k-k-kay,” the droid responded. “We love you, no m-m-matter what.”
Cassian responded by hugging Bee as tightly as he could without damaging them, and tried not to cry.
“I found it!” Maarva cried triumphantly, as she emerged from the storage room where the medicine cabinet was, looking like she’d undergone hand-to-hand combat with its contents.
She made her way effortfully back to her chair, and sat down, clutching a container full of bacta in one hand and some fresh bandages in the other.
“Give me your hand, then,” she told him firmly, after taking a moment to catch her breath.
Cassian somewhat reluctantly let go of Bee, and scooted closer to Maarva’s chair.
He held out his hand, and Maarva began unwrapping it with industrious care. She paused for a moment once Cassian’s hand was uncovered, looking at his bloodied and broken skin with concern etched into her brow. He watched as she put that to one side, and picked up the bacta, unscrewing the lid and scooping up a bit of the gel with her fingers before smearing it over his knuckles.
Cassian winced a little at the cold shock of it, but let her continue. For a moment, he felt as though this could be any evening from his childhood on Ferrix; from the earlier argument with Maarva, to the tears and making up, the Bee cuddles and the way he would tell the little droid things he’d never dare say to anyone else, complete with sitting on the floor by his mother’s chair as she tended some scrape he’d gotten from messing around somewhere he shouldn’t have, or getting into a fight with Nurchi.
As Maarva wrapped his hand with a fresh bandage, he realized that the only thing missing was the sound of Clem returning for the night, smelling of the salvage yard, bustling around the house, asking about what trouble Cassian had gotten into, or telling them about some shenanigans he and Brasso had gotten up to in his warm voice.
The house felt unbearably quiet, all of a sudden.
“There,” Maarva murmured, patting Cassian’s hand gently, giving him permission to withdraw it, although her hand still rested over his fingers.
Cassian realized that the only thing that was different about this night was everything, and he began to remember why he’d been away from home so often of late. Despite all of it, right now he wanted more than anything to stay exactly where he was, because, stars, he missed them. He missed Maarva and he missed Bee, and all he wanted was to have time to make a new life with them, to take care of them, but now, he was a wanted man.
There wasn’t time.
Maarva met his eyes briefly, then looked back down at his hand still in her lap.
“You should go, Cass,” Maarva said very quietly, every word seemed to pain her to say. “You needed to see Bix about something. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you for so long.”
She patted his hand again, this time an encouragement, an urging, for him to withdraw it. Cassian nodded a little numbly, then shifted so he was kneeling next to his mother’s chair, and instead of withdrawing, he took both of her hands in both of his.
He looked down, swallowed, then looked her in the eye.
“I miss you, Ma,” he told her, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I didn’t realize how much until… It was stupid, but I thought we’d have more time. I thought… I knew I would have to get out of here for a little while, maybe after at least a night or two, but… I didn’t realize it would get this bad. And now, I can’t stay at all. I have a plan, sort of, but I don’t know when I’ll be able to come back. I’m sorry. I wish we had more time.”
“I wish so too, son,” Maarva said after a moment, tears in her eyes, her voice wavering in a way Cassian had rarely heard before. “I miss you so much. But right now, you need to go, hm? And I’ll be here, if you need me.”
Cassian felt a deep ache in his chest that he knew would become debilitating if he let himself stay still a moment longer.
So, he squeezed Maarva’s hands in his, kissed her wizened cheek, and let go of her, briefly running a hand over Bee’s head as he passed him, then somehow managed to walk out the door without sobbing, or looking back.
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