Strange bird. Again.

Bearing this in mind, I ask you to recall that Ben Solo is groomed from childhood by a malevolent entity—Snoke, or Palpatine, if you want to acknowledge the existence of Episode IX—to believe that his strength in the Force is directly correlated to what we, as a modern audience, might recognize as the severity of his disorder. Explosive outbursts, self-hatred, self-harm…each of these symptomatic behaviors is reinforced as crucial to his training in the Dark Side. His identity is broken down and rebuilt into the Kylo Ren we meet in The Force Awakens over the span of years in a vicious and frequently violent reward-punishment cycle by a predator wielding him as a weapon, and his fear of abandonment is used to keep him in line. Whatever else he may be, Ben Solo/Kylo Ren is a victim of abuse.

[AGE OF RESISTANCE: SUPREME LEADER SNOKE: A displeased Snoke strikes his apprentice.]

Of course, none of this excuses the murders. But it does beg the question: Why are some people tripping over themselves to empathize with Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader while insisting that Ben Solo/Kylo Ren got what he deserved?

Because, in case we’ve collectively forgotten, these two are paralleled across the films, novels, and comics more times than I have teeth. Legacy of Vader (Thank you, Charles Soule, for your service.) is the comic equivalent of Lucasfilm grabbing fans by the face and going, “See? See? See?” It does both characters a disservice to love one and hate the other, ignoring that we’re meant to see them as two sides of the same coin.

[LEGACY OF VADER #12: Ben Solo, in the guise of Darth Vader, appears to Kylo Ren.]

Common justifications for this love-hate dichotomy—and my counterarguments—below:

“Kylo Ren is a whiny wannabe-Vader!”

I mean…yes. That’s the point. He’s emotive, much like Anakin in the prequels, and the narrative beats you over the head with the fact that he’s trying to fill Vader’s shoes. (Or helmet, as it were.) What about this makes Kylo Ren a less sympathetic character than Darth Vader?

[AGE OF RESISTANCE: KYLO REN: Decades apart, Darth Vader and Kylo Ren fight to subdue the Benathy.]

While I, personally, would never describe Vader as stoic, this particular complaint reads as a byproduct of attitudes toward masculinity that prioritize stone-faced endurance over anything approaching mental and emotional wellbeing, rather than any kind of meaningful critique. There’s nothing inherently noble about suffering in silence, and there’s nothing inherently ignoble about verbalizing pain. Kylo Ren and Darth Vader are made less sympathetic by their willingness to inflict their suffering on others, not by their “whining” or lack thereof.

“Ben Solo turned to the Dark Side for no reason.”

Ben Solo makes many terrible decisions, several predating his adoption of the title Kylo Ren. It’s not inaccurate to say that he is, to some degree, responsible for his own suffering. It’s also not inaccurate to say that none of his decisions are made in a vacuum.

Canon tells us that Snoke’s influence starts early—early enough that Leia factors it into her decision to send Ben to Luke for training, even if she chooses not to discuss what she knows with her son or her husband. Canon also tells us that, through some cocktail of fear, shame, and avoidance, Leia, Han, and Luke manage to keep the Skywalker-Vader secret from Ben until his early twenties, at which point he has been struggling with both the influence of a powerful Dark Side Force-user and the suspicion that his family fears him for the better part of two decades.

It’s worth noting here that Leia, Han, and Luke’s actions are analogous to the real-world actions of parents who hide family histories of mental illness from their children. Their decision to withhold the truth further isolates Ben, as he likely believes he’s the only member of his family struggling with a call to the Dark, and it does nothing to provide him hope that this struggle can be managed, if not completely overcome.

[THE RISE OF KYLO REN #1: Snoke communes with Ben Solo in the aftermath of Luke’s betrayal.]

Consider, for a moment, learning that (1) your family has been keeping secrets from you, (2) one of those secrets is your direct relation to the most feared Sith in recent galactic history, and (3) your perceived similarity to said Sith—your grandfather—has been poisoning the well of your family’s love for you since you were a child. Then, consider these revelations being followed in short order by the singularly terrifying experience of waking to the sight of the galaxy’s most powerful Jedi—your uncle—standing over you with his lightsaber drawn and the Force “moving darkly” around him. If Ben previously had any reasons to doubt Snoke’s voice in his head, we can assume they crumble with Luke’s Jedi temple.

[THE RISE OF KYLO REN #1: Ben Solo seeks comfort in the arms of his new master.]

Anakin Skywalker’s fall from grace follows a similar, albeit not identical, trajectory. Born into slavery, separated from his mother (by distance, then death), and thrust into a galactic war at the tender age of nineteen, he experiences significant trauma both before and after Palpatine begins his manipulation. Anakin is both extremely Force-sensitive and extremely emotionally vulnerable, despite the systems in place to support him: a blood brother in Obi-Wan, a lover in Padmé, and a council of mentors in the Jedi. Granted, the Jedi have their problems—the Council is mistrustful and withholding at times, which in turn leads Anakin to lean more and more on Palpatine for guidance—but they recognize Anakin’s potential and nurture his development in the best way they know how.

Where grandfather and grandson differ most starkly is in the immediate circumstances of their respective falls: Ben Solo turns to Snoke for safety after being betrayed by a loved one via an attempt on his life, while Anakin Skywalker betrays his loved ones and turns to Palpatine for the promise of power over death; Ben Solo believes he has no home to return to and will not be forgiven, while Anakin Skywalker has a home in Obi-Wan and Padmé—both of whom have established their willingness to forgive truly shocking acts of violence; Ben Solo tries to flee Luke’s Jedi temple without harming any of his fellow students and only fights when backed into a corner, while Anakin Skywalker leads the slaughter of his Jedi brothers and sisters almost immediately after aligning himself with the Sith.

[Excerpt from SKYWALKER: A FAMILY AT WAR.]

Given the above, if we’re willing to accept the narrative justification for Anakin’s fall, I fail to see why we wouldn’t accept the narrative justification for Ben’s.

“Ben Solo caused all of his own problems.”

Wrong. Or, more precisely: Tell me you don’t understand the impact of childhood emotional neglect without telling me you don’t understand the impact of childhood emotional neglect.

Leia and Han are good people. Leia and Han are heroes. Leia and Han are loving parents. Leia and Han also spend a significant amount of time away from their son, to the extent that Ben spends a solid chunk of his childhood effectively raised by droids.

[Excerpt from SKYWALKER: A FAMILY AT WAR.]

Put simply: Leia Organa and Han Solo have responsibilities to the galaxy that come into conflict with their responsibilities to their son, and little Ben Solo is a child with complex developmental needs that his parents are unequipped to meet. Yes, some of their shortcomings are due to their inability to fully grasp Ben’s connection to the Force, but I would argue that Ben suffers less from a lack of mystical understanding than he does from a lack of emotional support.

Ben Solo is a tender child; he cries easily and often. Even as a toddler, he’s regarded by his father as having eyes far older—and presumably sadder—than his years. His first conscious use of the Force is entirely benign: fetching a favorite plush toy from across a room. He loves his parents and idolizes his uncle Luke. Ben Solo is not, as some Star Wars fans would like to believe, born bad. (No one is. But that’s a post for another day.)

What Ben Solo is is lonely.

He’s different from his peers; he struggles to make friends. Even before he learns the truth about Anakin, his sense of self is split down the middle: pulled toward both Light and Dark. He carries the twin burdens of his family’s legacy and the galaxy’s great expectations from a startlingly young age and—terrified of their disappointment and rejection—hides his feelings of inadequacy from the people he loves. Ben is afraid, and this fear leaves him vulnerable to isolation and manipulation. When Snoke offers him power and purpose, it works because Ben Solo believes he cannot be loved as he is.

He’s wrong, of course. Ben Solo is loved—and so, impossibly, is Kylo Ren. But being loved is not the same as feeling loved, and none of the adults in Ben’s life, except for Snoke, are able to identify this gap.

Certain fans love to pin all the blame for Ben’s fall on Ben himself while railing against the Jedi for failing Anakin, but multiple parties bear responsibility for the rise of Kylo Ren, and this is acknowledged explicitly in canon.

Select examples below:

Luke

[Excerpt from THE LAST JEDI film novelization.]

[Excerpt from THE LAST JEDI junior novelization.]

[Excerpt from SKYWALKER: A FAMILY AT WAR.]

Leia

[Excerpt from THE LAST JEDI film novelization.]

[Excerpt from THE LAST JEDI junior novelization.]

[Excerpt from SKYWALKER: A FAMILY AT WAR.]

Han

[Excerpt from AFTERMATH: EMPIRE'S END.]

[Excerpt from THE FORCE AWAKENS junior novelization.]

[Excerpt from SKYWALKER: A FAMILY AT WAR.]

If you’ve made it this far, you may be wondering where I’m going with all this. If so, I hope you’ll indulge me just a bit longer as I attempt to land this metaphorical transport.

Anakin Skywalker fears loss, and his pursuit of an end to this fear makes it come true. When we first meet him in A New Hope, his wife is dead, his brother is in hiding, and the Jedi Order is no more. He trusts no one but the master who lured him into the Darkness. Darth Vader survives his past self in a lonely half-life, filled with rage and regret.

Ben Solo fears loss, and his pursuit of an end to this fear makes it come true. When we first meet him in The Force Awakens, his parents are dead to him, his uncle is in hiding, and the Jedi Order is no more. He trusts no one but the master who lured him into the Darkness. Kylo Ren survives his past self in a lonely half-life, filled with rage and regret.

The tragedy of Darth Vader is that he can’t turn back. The tragedy of Kylo Ren is that he can.

So, why doesn’t he?

The answer to this question comes, of all places, from the swamps of Dagobah, where the Cave of Evil confronts Kylo Ren with his greatest fear: not an enemy, or even his own inner darkness, but a vision of his uncle, hesitant to strike, and of his parents, ready to forgive.

[AGE OF RESISTANCE: SUPREME LEADER SNOKE: Kylo Ren receives a vision of his parents.]

This is why Kylo Ren fights so desperately against his own redemption: because if he can be forgiven after destroying Luke’s temple, murdering Han, and terrorizing the galaxy as Snoke’s apprentice, it means his family loves him, still; and if his family loves him, still, it means they never stopped, that the voices in his head—some his own, some his master’s—have all been wrong, or lying, and that he’s never had to be anything but what he is.

Ben Solo, like his grandfather before him, wants nothing more than to go home.