Dream of a better tomorrow

Saturday, 1 February 1997

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

OLD concepts, new technology. Algerian terror troops masquerading under the banner of Islam have taken one of the more gruesome lessons of their French former masters to heart.

Madame la Guillotine has been born again. A portable decapitator travels the city in the back of an unmarked truck, obscured by a tarpaulin.

No longer do you have to submit to the tiring process of standing in line while Madame Defarge knits your name into the record.

Modern-day Robispierres now arrive at your door, stuff a helpful wad of newspaper into your mouth so as not to disturb your neighbours, and whip you into the back of the truck...

And they will do the rest of your family as well at no extra charge. In mere minutes, you're all done, and the truck heads over... I beg your pardon... moves on, to the next customer.

Old concepts, new technology. A princess in distress, an evil warlord holding her captive and threatening the universe, a young knight errant on a quest, a wise old druid, swashbuckling swordplay.

But the Princess is a Senator and rebel agent. The knight errant is a farmboy, his comrades interstellar smugglers, their swords are shimmering light sabres, their charging steeds spacecraft.

It's been 20 years since Star Wars, George Lucas' science fiction tale, became part of our vocabulary. It defined the 1970s for me as much as Saturday Night Fever did for my schoolmates.

For a time in history that allowed a Steve Biko to be snuffed out, Star Wars was a dream of possibilities, a new hope. There were clear dividing lines between the good guys and the bad guys. Darth Vader, Jimmy Kruger, what's the difference?

But time moved on. The dividing lines were no longer as clear. There are no absolute truths. The villain is the father of the hero.

And finally, the hero is reunited with his father. Both collude to overthrow the evil emperor. The Princess is the sister of the hero and falls in love with the smuggler.

I was devastated. "Return of the Jedi left me feeling cheated," I wrote in my review of the movie in 1984.

In our South African reality, a similar process occurred.

The ANC and the apartheid government sit down to talk. The good guys hold hands with the bad guys. FW de Klerk ousts PW Botha and embraces Nelson Mandela.

It seems somewhat surreal today. In the week that apartheid's killers admit to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission that they murdered Steve Biko, Star Wars is re-released.

The absolute truths that were part of my childhood no longer hold true. Biko's killers are known, but in the new spirit of pragmatism, they are forgiven. Their masters continue to walk the corridors of power.

I no longer feel cheated. George Lucas was wise. The good guys sometime finish last. The hero does not always get the Princess.

But the dream is worth dreaming. A perfect world may not be attainable, but is worth striving for.

If you have never seen the Star Wars trilogy, do so. If you have children, take them to see it.

Because old concepts combined with new technology can help to kill more efficiently, bring terror into the hearts of more people.

Or it can fire the imagination towards a dream of a better tomorrow.