remember to live

and so you followed. his voice trembled when he called for you, and there was something in that trembling that felt like proof. proof that somewhere beyond the dark, you had once been loved.

and so you walked behind him. step for step. breath for breath. close enough to see the shape of him, but never enough to touch. there was a distance between you, thin as a thread and just as fragile.

he did not look back, even as you called out once. twice until silence becomes love and love becomes endurance. you wondered, between steps, if he could feel you. if he could hear the echo of your footsteps beneath his own. if he knew that you were reaching for him in all the ways you tried.

and you wanted to tell him.

look at me please.

the words gathered in your throat like prayer. you wanted to see him. the bend of his shoulders. the grief in the line of his mouth. the desperate, trembling shape of devotion that had brought him so far below the earth that even the dead had begun to listen.

you wanted to be seen by him not as a loss, but as yourself. as the woman who had followed him through death because she loved him enough to trust him. as the one who would understand if he turned, even then.

because if he looked at you, it would not be betrayal.

it would be love.

and you have always loved like waiting. loved like standing still while the world asked you to go on. loved like trusting that the hand reaching for you in the dark would know the shape of your name.

so when he hesitated, you did not hate him for it.

you only thought, please.

I actually agree with a lot of this.

One thing I always try to emphasize is that criticizing Obi-Wan isn't the same thing as saying he was a bad person or that he never loved Anakin. I think he loved Anakin very deeply. The tragedy is that love alone isn't always enough.

I also don't think Obi-Wan was intentionally dismissive or emotionally neglectful. More often than not, he simply responded to Anakin the way he had been taught to respond: through discipline, self-restraint, and adherence to the Code. The problem is that Anakin wasn't an ordinary Padawan. He was a former slave with profound abandonment trauma who had already spent the first nine years of his life learning that the people he loved could disappear without warning. That required a very different kind of mentorship than the Jedi were equipped to provide.

I also agree that Aotc is where that disconnect becomes the most obvious. Obi-Wan often comes across as exasperated, sarcastic, or impatient, and while I don't think he resented Anakin (but there is some heavy dislike there so maybe), I do think Anakin often interpreted those moments through the lens of his own insecurities. Someone who already fears rejection can perceive criticism much more intensely than it was intended. So even ordinary mentor–student friction could reinforce Anakin's feeling that he wasn't truly understood.

As for Qui-Gon, I'm actually more cautious than many fans are. A lot of people speak as though Qui-Gon surviving would have guaranteed that Anakin never became Darth Vader, but I don't think we can know that. It's certainly possible that Qui-Gon's less dogmatic approach and greater emphasis on the Living Force would have made him a better emotional fit for Anakin. I forgot which material it came but I've seen where Qui-Gon was reflecting that a mismatch between master and apprentice can be the teacher's responsibility as much as the student's, which is an unusually humble perspective for a Jedi.

At the same time, Qui-Gon wasn't infallible either. He was stubborn, frequently challenged the Council, and George Lucas himself has suggested that Qui-Gon insisting on training Anakin was also a mistake—not because Qui-Gon was a bad Jedi, but because every character in this tragedy is imperfect in some way.

Personally, I think the question isn't, "Would Qui-Gon have saved Anakin?"

It's, "Would Qui-Gon have understood Anakin better?"

My answer is... probably.

Would that have been enough to overcome a decade of Palpatine's grooming, the Clone Wars, Anakin's fear of loss, the Jedi Order's institutional blind spots, and Anakin's own choices?

I'm much less certain.

That's part of what makes the prequels such a compelling tragedy. There isn't one point of failure. It's a cascade of them. Qui-Gon's death, Obi-Wan's inexperience, the Jedi Order's rigidity, Palpatine's manipulation, the trauma of slavery, the Clone Wars, and Anakin's own decisions all intertwine. Remove one piece, and perhaps the outcome changes—or perhaps another weakness simply becomes the one Palpatine exploits instead.

To me, that is a far more interesting reading than saying Obi-Wan failed because he was terrible or Qui-Gon would have magically fixed everything. Both men loved Anakin (or in Qui-Gon's case, would've perhaps loved him). Both had strengths. Both had flaws. The heartbreaking reality is that sometimes even sincere love, when paired with the wrong circumstances and the wrong system, simply isn't enough and I think that's okay (obvs in real life it's not but you get what I mean)

But if we're talking about canon? Realistically?

Before anyone comes at me with ignited lightsabers, let me make one thing abundantly clear: I do not hate Obi-Wan Kenobi. Quite the opposite, actually. I like him enough because I happily admit that Ewan McGregor is Very Hot and I like watching edits of him (thrist edits and whatnot), and finds Obi-Wan himself to be one of the funniest characters in Star Wars. His dry wit, sarcastic remarks, and almost disastrous ability to stumble through emotional situations while pretending everything is perfectly under control make him endlessly entertaining to watch. In many ways, I find him fascinating precisely because of his contradictions. What I do dislike, however, is the way a large portion of the fandom has transformed him into someone he simply is not. There is a difference between enjoying a character and rewriting them into an entirely different person, and unfortunately Obi-Wan is one of the biggest victims of that phenomenon.

I have no issue with alternate universes or canon divergence. After all, fanfiction is meant to explore possibilities (and enjoy the smuttest fantasies there is in existence), and if someone wants to write Obi-Wan as the perfect mentor, the ideal older brother, or the Jedi equivalent of everyone's emotionally intelligent therapist, that's perfectly fine. The problem begins when that version of Obi-Wan starts masquerading as canon. It is especially noticeable in stories tagged as "Canon Compliant," where nearly every meaningful flaw is sanded off until nothing remains except a flawless, endlessly patient saint whose only mistake was loving Anakin too much. In those fics I've read, they always depict Obi-Wan who tried everything, who said everything right, who understood Anakin perfectly, and the tragedy occurred simply because Anakin was too arrogant, stubborn, emotional, or immature to appreciate him. Which is Not what the films itself had depicted. That isn't even what makes Obi-Wan compelling as a character. His tragedy is not that he was perfect and still failed, but that he failed because he was fundamentally unequipped to give Anakin what Anakin actually needed.

this distinction matters because Obi-Wan's failure is the entire point of his character. George Lucas did not write him as an infallible mentor tragically betrayed by an impossible student. He wrote him as a young man who lost his own master, was knighted prematurely, and was immediately also given the responsibility for raising perhaps the most psychologically vulnerable an child in the galaxy. Obi-Wan was barely an adult* himself when Qui-Gon died. *(Edit: Obi-Wan was 25 during tpm, so sorry for this! I kinda misremembered some stuff 😅). Overnight, he was expected to become a father, teacher, and role model while still figuring out his own identity as a Jedi Knight* *(Later correction: While still grieving his master). He loved Anakin (of that I have very little doubt( but love alone is not enough to make someone a good guardian. Good intentions are not substitutes for emotional understanding, and throughout the prequels Obi-Wan repeatedly demonstrates that while he excels at teaching Jedi doctrine, he struggles profoundly whenever Anakin reaches out to him emotionally.

One of the clearest examples of this is a line that is often played for humor (for whatever reason because I personally didn't find it funny) but says far more than people seem to realize. When Anakin tells Obi-Wan that he is "the closest thing I have to a father," Obi-Wan's response is not to acknowledge the vulnerability of that statement or to reassure him but instead, to reply. "Then why don't you listen to me?". It's... it is unfortunately an answer entirely consistent with Obi-Wan's character (and a bit cold, If not insensitive too), but it also perfectly encapsulates why their relationship never develops into the emotionally secure bond that fandom often imagines. Obi-Wan hears a statement about authority rather than one about love and Instead of recognizing that Anakin is expressing affection, dependence, and perhaps even fear of abandonment, Obi-Wan redirects the conversation toward obedience. He's not being cruel or anything, just that it is simply evidence that Obi-Wan has been shaped by an institution that prioritizes discipline over emotional literacy. Whenever Anakin reaches for him as a son might reach for a parent, Obi-Wan instinctively reaches back as a Jedi Master correcting his Padawan.

This pattern exists throughout their relationship. While I've seen some people frequently describe or even imply Obi-Wan to be someone as extraordinarily emotionally intelligent, I honestly struggle to see that reflected in the films. He is perceptive in battle, can be diplomatic in politics, can be deeply compassionate toward strangers, but he consistently fails to understand the person standing closest to him. That failure is not because Anakin is impossible to understand (because if you take the time, I'm sure you'll realize why he acts that way). It is because Obi-Wan approaches emotional conflict the same way he approaches everything else: through discipline, restraint, and adherence to the Jedi Code. While those qualities make him an exceptional Jedi, they do not make him an exceptional parent or mentor to a deeply traumatized child.

And speaking of trauma, that trauma is something that the fandom often minimizes to an astonishing degree. Some people talk about Anakin as though he simply emerged from nowhere as an arrogant teenager with anger issues, conveniently forgetting that before he was a Jedi, he was a slave. For nine years of his life, Anakin existed as property, not as a person. He lived under constant threat, wore an explosive device in his body to prevent escape, watched others bought and sold, and then left the only person who had ever consistently loved him behind in chains because he had no choice. That is not something that people should be dismissing, it is not an ordinary childhood adversity to overcome but something to acknowledge and understand because that life is what shaped the type of person Anakin was: that experience shaped how he viewed the world, and obviously he is not gonna turn out normal. That is profound developmental trauma that the fandom often overlooks. Modern psychology tells us that children raised in environments of chronic fear often develop hypervigilance, anxiety surrounding abandonment, difficulty regulating emotions, intense attachment to loved ones, and overwhelming fear of loss. Every single one of those traits defines Anakin Skywalker long before Darth Vader ever exists.

It is why I have always found it deeply uncomfortable when people reduce his behavior to "he was a brat." Because, while yes, he certainly becomes arrogant at times, he can be impulsive, insensitive, and frustratingly overconfident. None of that is in dispute. But people often confuse trauma responses with personality flaws. There is a scary lack of empathy afforded to Anakin that I rarely see extended toward other characters. Even jokes like Obi-Wan calling him a "pathetic lifeform," while undeniably funny in isolation, is very unsettling when viewed in context. We are talking about a nine-year-old former slave who has just lost everything familiar in his life. The audience laughs because we know it is a joke, meant to be a banter. Anakin, however, is still a child desperately trying to find belonging in an environment where almost everyone already believes he should not have been accepted. It is difficult for me to understand why so many viewers interpret that child primarily as annoying rather than profoundly wounded (like seriously please have more empathy for Ani.)

Perhaps this is why I find the Jedi Order itself far less perfect or admirable than many fans do. I am not saying that the Jedi were evil when I say they are flawed. Those are two entirely different arguments. Because yes, I know that the Jedi genuinely sought peace and we have seen many Jedi characters that were compassionate, courageous people who devoted themselves to helping others. But institutions can be built upon noble intentions while still possessing unhealthy structures, and I believe the prequels intentionally portray exactly that. By the time of the Clone Wars, the Jedi had become increasingly rigid, increasingly dogmatic, and increasingly convinced that strict adherence to the Code would solve every moral problem they encountered. George Lucas doesn't really shy about how the Jedi had become arrogant and had lost their way, not in the sense that they've become incredibly and heavily corrupted but that they have mistakes. That institutional stagnation is not an accident of the writing; it is one of the central tragedies of the trilogy and present in all three prequel movies. (Although part of it is also because of the fact that the Jedi believe that "politicians are not to be trusted", and Dooku, and I quote said "Jedi betrayed themselves by serving the politicians." But, of course, anything Dooku says about the Jedi can’t be trusted either, since he is a traitor who is secretly in the service of Palpatine, but there is some truth to it.)

The philosophy surrounding attachment is perhaps the clearest example. I often hear people defend the Jedi by saying they merely taught non-attachment rather than emotional suppression, but I think the distinction becomes blurred in practice, especially for children. There is an enormous difference between teaching someone to recognize when emotions compromise their judgment and teaching them that deep attachment is itself dangerous. Consider professions in our own world: doctors are generally discouraged from operating on immediate family members because personal involvement may cloud medical judgment. Judges recuse themselves from cases involving relatives because conflicts of interest threaten impartiality. Neither profession concludes that love itself is inherently bad ofr weakness. Instead, they acknowledge that human beings inevitably care for others and teach professionals to recognize when those relationships create bias. Nobody tells surgeons that they should not love their children or spouses, or demands judges detach themselves emotionally from their families. The expectation is not emotional absence but emotional maturity to take a step back when needed.

The Jedi, however, often seem to communicate something far harsher, particularly to impressionable children. Their teachings frequently leave young Jedi with the impression that attachment itself is dangerous rather than explaining the difference between compassionate love and possessive fear. That distinction is crucial because emotions do not disappear simply because an entire institution discourages them. They are buried, and buried emotions rarely remain buried forever. They emerge in secrecy, in guilt, in shame, or in catastrophic explosions when the pressure finally becomes unbearable. Anakin is perhaps the greatest example of this failure. Instead of being taught how to process fear, grief, love, and loss, he learns to conceal them. Instead of asking for help, he hides his marriage, hides his nightmares, hides his anxiety, and eventually hides his descent into desperation. The tragedy is not that he loved too much but that he was never taught how to love without fear. So please, stop arguing about how Anakin misunderstood the Code, because he didn't; attachment is literally forbidden, if it's possession that is forbidden then they would've said and corrected themselves. And yet, they would often and repeatedly remind Anakin that attachment is forbidden. There is a reason why he hid his marriage, so the entire "Everyone knew actually" is just irritating at this point. He would've gotten a talk if everyone actually knew. (Edit: I would also say that the reason why people seem to believe that Anakin failed to hide his marriage is likely because of his lack of subtlety. But like, we know because we're the viewers. personally i think they suspected he has feelings for Padmé but never thought that they were married.)

This is also why I find the frequent comparison between Jedi philosophy and Buddhism somewhat misleading. While I cannot find a source that claims George Lucas undoubtedly draws inspiration from Buddhist thought, alongside Taoism, Stoicism, and numerous other traditions— it is indeed possible he did. But. Inspiration does not equal to a direct adaptation of the religion itself. Buddhism does not teach emotional numbness. At its heart are compassion, mindfulness, love, kindness, and the recognition that suffering arises from clinging, craving, and ignorance. Non-attachment in Buddhist philosophy is not the absence of love but the absence of possessiveness. One can love deeply without believing that another person belongs to them or fearing that one's own identity depends upon never losing them. Ironically, this understanding of non-attachment requires immense emotional awareness rather than emotional repression.

None of this absolves Anakin of responsibility for becoming Darth Vader. He made horrific choices, committed unforgivable atrocities, and cannot simply blame his upbringing for them. Accountability matters, but acknowledging Anakin's agency does not require pretending everyone around him did everything correctly. Palpatine did not create Anakin's wounds,he recognized wounds that already existed and exploited them. He offered emotional validation where the Jedi offered restraint, certainty where they offered ambiguity, and unconditional acceptance where Anakin increasingly feared rejection. That manipulation only worked because the cracks were already there.

In the end, I think this is precisely why Obi-Wan remains such a compelling character. He is not tragic because he was perfect. He is tragic because he wasn't. He loved Anakin sincerely, yet repeatedly failed to understand him. He believed completely in the Jedi Order, yet the very ideals that shaped him prevented him from recognizing where those ideals were failing the child he had promised to train. His greatest strength (which is his unwavering faith in the Code) became his greatest blind spot. That does not make him evil, nor does it make him a bad person. It makes him painfully, recognizably human.

The tragedy of Star Wars has never been that one reckless young man destroyed everything through his own flaws alone. It is the tragedy of a frightened child manipulated by a man with sinisters intentions, raised by an institution that misunderstood trauma, mentored by a man who loved him but could never quite reach him, and ultimately consumed by fears he was taught to suppress rather than to confront. Obi-Wan was never meant to be the perfect Jedi who deserved no criticism. He was written as the archetypal failed mentor, and there is no shame in admitting that. In fact, I would argue that recognizing his failures is precisely what makes his love for Anakin and his grief over losing him so heartbreaking. He could've done better, maybe, could've reacted better to Anakin's issues, or maybe Anakin should've listened better or acted more jedi like, but what happened happened. And no one is purely to blame for it (except maybe Palpatine).