And here’s my entry in Edward Copeland’s Star Wars Blogathon in celebration of the thirtieth anniversary of the release of the original flick. It’s already off to a rip-roaring start. So many highbrow fanboys in the world….

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CGI tampering notwithstanding, we all know that Han Solo shot first in that fateful encounter in the Mos Eisley cantina when the strategically-challenged, green, large nosed bounty hunter, Greedo, met his end.

Still, in the caterwhauling over Lucas’s alterations, I sense something unbecoming in the mind of fandom — as if shooting first in general was not only the best way to come out the winner of certain violent encounters, but also neat, cool, or otherwise nifty. Greedo is a sentient creature, with a sardonic sense of humor and enough style to anticipate Peter Lorre. Therefore, whether or not Han’s preemptive blasting of Greedo was justified, surely the death of this being who, off-jade, snouty and insectile as he was, was just as crucial to his part the Force as you or I, should be mourned and not celebrated.

Which begs the question: Did Solo really have to kill Greedo? Could perhaps both his own life and that of his emerald, beschnozzled, buggish enemy been spared?

A YouTube examination of the incident in question may, of course, be necessary for those with foggy memories. The video demonstrates that Greedo has has blaster trained on Han during the entire conversation preceding his demise. Therefore, it cannot be said that Solo is guilty of shooting an unarmed opponent, unlike certain other renegade space freighter captains.

Captain Malcolm Reynolds widely praised as “Han Solo who still shoots first.” What has become of us?

Still, the mere act of pointing a blaster, nor even his seemingly murderous speech (untranslated in the YouTube clip) does not necessarily prove the Greedo was fully committed to killing Han. Perhaps, feeling oppressed and ignored for his sickly hue and nasal enlargement, Greedo felt that it was the only way to be noticed. Perhaps Han Solo is a guilty of a lack of moral imagination, making him a sort of quasi-murderer.

Therefore, while we cannot full-throatedly condemn Solo for his action, we can only ask: could not another, more forgiving course been charted? Could not Solo have reached out to his more bug-like brother in a spirit of love and forgiveness? Certainly, it would have been possible for Han to act in the spirit of his Galaxy’s Gandhi-Christ-Buddha equivalent and simply allow Greedo access to the Millennium Falcon and then hope that his emerald, nasally-enlengthened nemesis would have been so moved as to allow Solo and his companions to proceed on their vital mission, perhaps with the promise of a modest later payment.

Of course, it’s also possible, even likely, that Greedo would have demurred from a suggestion — if only out of legitimate fear of deadly repercussions from Jabba the Hut. In that case Luke Skywalker and Obi-wan Kenobi would never face Darth Vader, the Death Star would never have been destroyed, and the Empire’s repressive and genocidal rule would continue indefinitely. This is regrettable but, if life teaches us anything, it’s that behaving in ethical, peaceful, and charitable manner can be a real bitch.

In memoriam. Greedo, we hardly knew ye.