The New Republic's Crisis of Confidence

Ten years ago, the New Republic published a document—titled "Why Do We Fight the Empire?"—that has been oft referred to in recent months. "We of the New Republic are pledged to end this long night of misery," the document reads, "We are pledged to defeat and destroy the Empire and restore the Republic to the galaxy in fact and in name. Those who are currently under the threat of despotism and anarchy know this: the New Republic is committed to justice and peace and we will fight to free you. Join us if you can." It was signed by the political leaders of a dozen Republic worlds, among them; Chandrila, Mon Calamari, Kashyyyk, and Kothlis. It is a powerful symbol of the unity of the Republic, its planets, and its people around a common purpose.

But regardless of one's opinion of the Bastion Accords, which made peace with what remains of the Empire, most can agree that today the New Republic is missing the unity of days past and, moreover, is missing its capacity to inspire. Gone is the soaring rhetoric of, say, the Declaration of a New Republic. So exuberant was this Declaration, so full of hope and promise, that it enthusiastically declared, "Let the stars sing! Let the planets shout!" Now, years later, the planets are certainly shouting—but not in the sense that the Declaration and its authors, and the authors of "Why Do We Fight the Empire," had intended.

For even before the Bastion Accords removed the Republic's common enemy and, some would argue, it's raison d'etre, the New Republic has, in recent years, been characterized more by what divides it than what unites it. As a political correspondent for The Coruscant Journal, I am a witness to the petty politics and prejudices that have become so dreadfully common in the New Republic Senate. But I don't need to be a political correspondent to know that my readers, the public, have found themselves increasingly in various states of anger or apathy. Whether it's a dispute between the Ishori and the Diamala, a proposal to ban the lightsaber, a scandal over Senators' travel expenses, or yet another tired debate over the Bastion Accords, the public have come to expect not the best, but the worst of the New Republic.

To be fair, the Republic often exceeds the public's expectations. Its military is exemplary, and has proven itself time and again in battle with Imperial warlords like Thrawn, Zsinj, and the allegedly "reborn" Palpatine. And already in its rather short history, the New Republic has a host of martyrs like Gaeriel Captison and Crix Madine, and heroes like Admiral Ackbar, Wedge Antilles, and Han Solo. But Mr. Solo's disasterous attempt, last year, to broker a trade agreement between the rival Ishori and Diamala at the planet Iphigin makes painfully clear that these heroes cannot do the work of government by themselves—and it is here where the New Republic so often disappoints.

As a case in point, consider the Republic's Chiefs of State. Despite comprising over 500,000 worlds and tens of thousands of diverse, sentient species, the Republic was ruled for its first fourteen years by just two humans, Mon Mothma and Leia Organa Solo, who seemed endlessly to trade the title with one another (even now, the scandal-plagued Leia Organa Solo is merely on a "leave of absense," and has made clear, to the dismay of many, that she intends to return as Chief of State yet again). In the meantime, last year's election of Ponc Gavrisom, the first non-human Chief of State, was long overdue. But even Gavrisom is seen—unfairly, in my opinion—as something of a disappointment. His critics say that he talks too much and acts too little, even though this new era of peace is not one that lends itself to action.

With last year's so called "Caamas Document Crisis," however, Gavrisom has become only the latest Chief of State to preside over a traumatic conflict that threatens to ruin the Republic—conflicts like the Almanian Uprising, the Black Fleet Crisis, and the Corellian Insurrection, to name only a few. These crises, incidents, and "brush fires" have become so common that the people have come to expect them, and some, like the United Factions of Kroctar, long for the order and stability that the Imperial Remnant promises. The New Republic's solution to this, over the last few years, has been to "decentralize" power away from Coruscant and, instead, empower its worlds in the form of Sector Assemblies. This idea is not without merit, as it allows New Republic worlds to be largely autonomous and make their own decisions. But it has also marginalized the Republic itself, seemingly dooming it to irrelevance (except for its responsibility to provide for the common defense—but even this, in a time of peace, is not exactly in vogue).

Gavrisom's signing of the Bastion Accords assures his place in history, and no doubt his face will one day appear on the decicred. But his opponents and supporters alike will agree that he's not an inspiring figure. And that is what the New Republic needs in this new time of peace, yes, but also of division and distrust. If Gavrisom and his successors cannot inspire trust in the New Republic, it might well succumb to a crisis of confidence as did the Old.