r/StarWarsTheories

Operational Artist, not a Strategist.

Okay, before you all come at me with torches and pitchforks, let me say that I love Thrawn in both Legends and canon. However, while he has demonstrated truly amazing tactical and operational skill—arguably at a genius level—I don't think he's actually a great strategist.

First, let's distinguish between tactics, operations, and strategy.

Tactics is how you win the immediate fight. Here, Thrawn is pretty dang close to perfect. He wins just about every fleet engagement he's involved in, often against considerable disadvantages. No argument from me: the man is a tactical genius.

Operations is how you connect individual battles and other military actions so that they achieve a larger military objective. This is where things like logistics, tempo, concentration of force, maneuver, reserves, intelligence, and deception come into play. Once again, Thrawn is brilliant. His campaign against the New Republic demonstrates an extraordinary ability to make limited Imperial resources achieve disproportionate results. He consistently creates situations in which the New Republic has to react to him rather than the other way around.

Strategy, however, is about using military power to accomplish political objectives.

And this is where I have questions.

By the end of the Thrawn Trilogy, I still don't see a convincing path from "Thrawn keeps winning battles" to "the New Republic is destroyed."

Let's assume Thrawn isn't killed by Rukh at Bilbringi. Let's go even further and assume that he wins the battle. What happens next?

The New Republic has started figuring him out. He's lost Joruus C'baoth and therefore his Force-assisted coordination advantage. He's lost Delta Source. Admiral Ackbar is back in command, and the political divisions Thrawn exploited are beginning to heal. The New Republic now knows exactly what kind of threat it's facing.

Yes, more Imperial warlords might start joining Thrawn after further victories. But that creates another problem: Thrawn can't be everywhere, and let's be honest, most of the Imperial warlords can't be trusted any farther than C-3PO can throw them. Giving Thrawn more ships commanded by unreliable, ambitious subordinates doesn't necessarily solve his fundamental problem.

And that's the part of his strategy that I don't understand.

What is Thrawn's actual theory of victory?

Winning more battles isn't a theory of victory by itself. Taking more systems isn't necessarily one either. How does Thrawn turn those victories into the collapse of the New Republic as a political entity? Does he intend to capture Coruscant? Force the Republic to negotiate? Trigger enough political fragmentation that member worlds secede? Destroy the New Republic military until the government becomes indefensible? Reconstitute enough of the Empire that worlds begin defecting voluntarily?

Maybe there is an answer, but I don't think the Thrawn Trilogy ever gives us a particularly convincing one.

So my argument isn't that Thrawn is overrated as a military commander. Quite the opposite. I think he's one of the best tactical and operational commanders in Star Wars.

I'm just not convinced he's a great strategist.

He knows how to win battles. He knows how to run a campaign.

I'm not sure he ever demonstrates how those victories are supposed to win the war.

Anakin was a hero of the Republic, and beloved by everyone. Darth Vader was one of the primary faces of the Empire. In the book Luke Skywalker and the Shadows of Mindor Luke is known to be the son of Anakin, and seen as is his heir. Is Leia being his sister known to everyone? In the book Bloodlines someone tries to ruin Leia's reputation by revealing that she is actually the daughter of Darth Vader. Does anyone know of any lore to reconcile this?

Nowadays it's become "accepted wisdom" that the Jedi were this flawed organization that caused and even deserved their extinction. Some say they were dogmatic, they didn't fight for people enough (e.g. not going on a slavery-abolishing campaign on Tatooine), that they were too dumb to not allow Jedi marriage, etc.

But the truth is that none of that matters when it comes to their fall: The Jedi fell because Anakin sold them out to Palpatine for literal snake oil. End of story.

What exactly could the Jedi Council have done different? Yoda counseled Anakin on exactly what the right response to his premonitions of losing Padme: buddhist-like wisdom on not letting attachments drive you insane, and learning to let go, because there's nothing you can do about mortality... bonus, in this universe ppl just go back to the force when they die (or so Yoda said) so just accept the flow of life (unlike in our real life, where we have no f-ng idea what happens when we die or how we got here, etc)

The fact that Anakin chose to instead cling to his attachment to the degree of betraying and murdering everyone else is not a failing of the Jedi.

Neither could the Jedi have chopped Anakin's head in his sleep or such, because not only did they not know if Anakin was going to turn good or bad, but even if they knew, Jedi principles would not allow that, obviously.

Also, about the Jedi not going on slavery-eradication campaigns outside the Republic (e.g. Tatooine), they didn't have the manpower, it was too far away, and the Hutts were too entrenched... the Jedi aren't lying when they say they're not soldiers.

Also, about allowing Anakin to marry, that wouldn't have changed a thing, since that had nothing to do with his premonitions of Padme dying. It doesn't have any bearing whatsoever on Anakin sacrificing everyone else for snake oil promises for a cure.

And other arguments like, such as that.

And oh, the one thing that was REALLY weird is that they weren't fazed by the reveal of the clone army... like wtf, nobody even notices the obvious moral implications? The Jedi of all people should've been horrified at it, but even Yoda is like "well, fighting a war we are, and here they are, so use them will we I guess"

What are folks thoughts about cultures in the SW universe that imagines teen girls leading planets while also marrying children to each other? In this world child marriage causes harm in a multitude of ways and those who suffer it are not going to be given positions of power ( like Mon Mothma). It just seems an interesting aspect of culture to include considering how contradictory it actually is that children ( particularly girls) would be groomed for leadership.

Hello there!

I want to preface this theory by saying: I love the Sequel Trilogy. I grew up with these movies, and The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi mean a lot to me. That being said, I've always felt The Rise of Skywalker did the first two films dirty by stepping back from their boldest setups instead of giving us a truly unique final installment.

Because of that, I've been developing a major fan project called Star Wars: The Codex Canon. It's an overhauled timeline where I'll be integrating rewritten Legends stories into Canon, refining elements from both timelines, completely rewriting Episode IX, and building out a post-TLJ era that continues the story in a way that feels deeply satisfying, unique, and cohesive.

This post serves as both a theory for how Snoke should have been handled and the foundational building blocks of his character in The Codex Canon. It builds directly off my previous post about the First Order being a proxy state for the Grysk Hegemony.

Additionally, this theory dismisses the idea of Snoke being Palpatine's "strand-cast" puppet. For the sake of a better overarching story (sorry, The Rise of Skywalker!), we are mostly ignoring TRoS. Instead, this theory focuses on the lore established during The Force Awakens, The Last Jedi, and Charles Soule's The Rise of Kylo Ren graphic novel series.

If Snoke wasn't a Palpatine clone, who was he, where did he come from, and what was his actual goal? Here's my take:

"Long before the Republic existed, before hyperspace routes connected the galactic core to the outer worlds, there lived a human-like species known as the Oruuni (random name; let me know if I should replace it!). They inhabited the worlds clustered along the edge of the Unknown Regions. The Oruuni were not warriors or conquerors, but observers. Their civilization dedicated itself entirely to understanding patterns (even in the Force itself). They viewed existence as a vast equation waiting to be solved.

Among them was a Force-sensitive philosopher. He had no name, as their culture did not believe in such. However, he had a passion.

In his youth, this philosopher was brilliant, even by Oruuni standards. He was fascinated by what lay beyond the galactic horizon. Every species in the galaxy eventually turned its eyes inward toward politics, conquest, or survival. This philosopher was obsessed with what existed outside the map. He spent centuries studying ancient ruins scattered throughout the Unknown Regions. While most cultures viewed the Force as spiritual, the philosopher viewed it differently. He believed that consciousness itself was a navigational phenomenon. To him, the Force was was an infrastructure.

This obsession eventually led the philosopher to Exegol. Within the planet's catacombs existed ancient lens arrays used for studying the Unknown Regions (capable of amplifying perception across impossible distances!). The philosopher, now Snoke, looked through them and saw the Grysk Hegemony.

What Snoke encountered beyond the galactic barrier was not simply a species, but a form of collective intelligence operating on scales his people, or any people, had never imagined. Societies under the Grysks were stripped of individuality and therefore free from the inefficiencies of ego, nationalism, and emotional attachment.

To Snoke, this was beautiful! Most beings who encountered the Grysks lost themselves completely, but Snoke survived because his mind was uniquely structured around abstraction and observation. Thus, the Grysks transformed him.

His body aged unevenly. Bone structures warped. Muscles deteriorated. His mind became synchronized with entities millions of lightyears away.

Yet unlike many cosmic horror stories, Snoke never viewed himself as a victim. He loved what had happened. Where others saw invasion, he saw evolution. Where others saw extinction, he saw transcendence. The galaxy was fragmented. The Republic collapsed repeatedly. The Jedi failed repeatedly. The Sith failed repeatedly. Every civilization eventually descended into corruption and violence.

The Grysk Hegemony, however, endured. To Snoke, this was evidence that the galaxy deserved to be replaced.

For thousands of years, he became the Grysk Hegemony's First Navigator - not a slave, a missionary, a scholar, an architect, and a prophet.

The Oruuni eventually vanished and Snoke became the last of his species. He never mourned them. In fact, he often referred to extinction as a natural correction mechanism.

Throughout galactic history, Snoke became a ghost, rarely appearing directly and almost never taking the credit. He learned that civilizations are easier to manipulate when they believe themselves autonomous.

Entire political movements unknowingly emerged from information he seeded centuries earlier. Religious cults formed around prophecies he had manufactured. Corporate monopolies arose from economic models he subtly introduced through intermediaries.

Many historical figures encountered Snoke without ever realizing it. For example, a Republic Senator might've received an anonymous manuscript that spurned on their support of a certain bill. Again and again, the same invisible hand appears, nudging along history and cataloguing outcomes like a scientist conducting an experiment.

What makes Snoke frightening here, at least to me, is that he is actually curious. He studies species the way a biologist studies insects and spends decades observing cultures simply because he finds them interesting. He learns languages no one speaks anymore, collects extinct philosophies, and maintains entire archives dedicated to civilizations that vanished before the Republic ever existed. He can discuss Naboo poetry, Rakatan engineering, Sith theology, Chiss navigation, Jedi philosophy, and Corellian economics with equal expertise, yet none of this knowledge makes him compassionate. It merely makes him better at manipulation.

Unlike Palpatine, who desired power for himself, Snoke is fascinated by systems. He wants to understand why civilizations fail. The answer he repeatedly arrives at is individuality. Freedom. Choice. Love. All of which are things Star Wars traditionally celebrates; Snoke concludes they are flaws.

This ideological foundation explains his obsession with Luke Skywalker. Luke represents the opposite conclusion. Where Snoke sees chaos, Luke sees hope. Where Snoke sees inefficiency, Luke sees humanity. Their eventual encounter, spoken about in The Rise of Kylo Ren, becomes more mythological than physical (plus, I can't see Snoke twirling around with a lightsaber).

When Snoke approaches Luke in the years following Thrawn's defeat, he arrives as a scholar, an ancient wanderer, and a seeker of knowledge. For months, he studies Luke and slowly begins testing him. Conversations become debates, debates become arguments, and arguments become psychic duels. Eventually, Luke attempts to understand what lies behind Snoke's mind. What he finds is not darkness, which would've been familiar and, in a twisted way, more comforting. Instead, Luke encounters absence - a vast hunger stretching beyond the galaxy itself, with billions of thoughts moving as one. Snoke carries an intelligence so large it barely notices individuals.

For one of the first times in his life since A New Hope, Luke Skywalker experiences true terror. The confrontation that follows is swift and violent. Luke's green lightsaber splits Snoke's skull down the middle (the wound we see in the Sequel Trilogy), never fully healing.

From that moment onward, Snoke becomes obsessed with Luke's destruction. Not so much because Luke wounded him, but because Luke had the AUDACITY to reject someone as wordly and knowledgeable as him. For thousands of years, civilizations had eventually embraced Snoke's conclusions. Luke did not, choosing "inferior" humanity and infuriating Snoke.

This months-long dynamic Snoke and Luke had also explains how Han, Leia, Chewbacca, C-3PO, R2-D2, and later, the Resistance, know Snoke by name.

Years after his confrontation with Luke, Snoke's obsession moves toward Ben Solo (which is where things get even more disturbing). Much like Palpatine's grooming of Anakin, Snoke's manipulation of Ben is personal, predatory, and patient. He begins long before anyone realizes, planting ideas, creating emotional dependencies, and positioning himself as the one figure who truly understands him. He studies Ben's insecurities the way an entomologist studies insect behavior. He knows exactly when to offer praise, when to withdraw affection, and when to manufacture isolation.

By this point, the relationship between Snoke and Ben has very uncomfortable undertones because Snoke intentionally blurs the boundaries between mentor, father figure, confessor, friend, and god.

Ben becomes emotionally dependent on Snoke before he realizes he is being manipulated (which is exactly how Snoke intends it).

Snoke studies attachment because attachment is the easiest way to reshape identity, yet even then, Ben Solo is not his ultimate objective. Ben is merely a tool, or rather, a compass - the culmination of centuries of research into Force-sensitive navigation.

Through his studies of the Chiss Sky-Walkers, ancient Jedi records, and midichlorians, Snoke arrives at a startling conclusion. The Skywalker bloodline is directional. Anakin, Luke, Leia, and Ben possess unique relationships with spatial intuition through the Force.

To the Grysk Hegemony, Ben Solo is not a future emperor, but their infrastructure as a living beacon. As Snoke might put it, Ben is a biological lighthouse capable of guiding extragalactic fleets through barriers no machine can chart.

Everything Snoke builds exists to prepare for this moment. The First Order. The Supremacy. Starkiller Base. The political destabilization.

All of it serves the purpose of opening the door.

Meanwhile, Snoke constructs Caduun-Ves (the garden planet he presumably lived on during The Rise of Kylo Ren). The world appears beautiful, with massive glowing gardens, artificial oceans, perfect ecosystems, bioluminescent forests, and ancient statues, yet nothing there is natural. Every tree was engineered, every animal designed, and every ecosystem curated. It is a world where life exists only through control - a paradise stripped of freedom.

In many ways, Caduun-Ves is Snoke's vision for the galaxy itself: beautiful, efficient, and dead. Within its gardens, he entertains diplomats, studies rare species, and conducts philosophical conversations with prisoners.

Visitors often leave believing they have met a benevolent sage, only later realizing every conversation was an experiment. Every compliment a manipulation, every kindness calculated… even Snoke's use of the dark side is performative.

Snoke deliberately imitates Sith traditions: the robes, the lightning, the apprentice, the throne, the mythology. He understands that people respond to familiar archetypes. Kylo Ren wants to feel connected to Vader, therefore, Snoke gives him a Sith narrative.

Privately, however, Snoke considers both Jedi and Sith primitive tribes arguing over shadows on a cave wall.

He studies Force Dyads the same way. When he claims credit for Rey and Ben's connection, he is lying, but the lie reveals something important about Snoke - that he knows exactly what a Force Dyad is. He has spent centuries researching them and recognizes the phenomenon immediately, simply wanting Ben to believe he controls it. Knowledge itself becomes Snoke's greatest weapon.

Snoke knows secrets no living being should know - buried beneath extinct civilizations, hidden in hyperspace anomalies, etc. Snoke knows secrets even Palpatine never uncovered.

By the time of The Force Awakens, Snoke believes he has solved every variable. Luke is isolated, the Jedi are dead/dying, Ben belongs to him, and the Grysk arrival is inevitable. Then comes Rey. And finally, in The Last Jedi, Kylo Ren kills him.

In my eyes, the irony is perfect. For thousands of years, Snoke manipulated history, calculated outcomes, predicted behavior, studied civilizations, and observed every possibility, yet he never truly understood the one thing he despised the most: human choice.

In the final moment, Ben acts irrationally, emotionally, and most importantly, individually (the exact qualities Snoke spent millennia dismissing). His body falls in two pieces; the man who devoted his life to collective consciousness killed by an act of personal will.

And in death, Snoke's final horror emerges. He was never the master… only the herald. Only the voice.

Beyond the galactic barrier, the beings he worshipped are still on their way. Plans have been set in motion that cannot be undone.

For the first time in thousands of years, the galaxy must face the possibility that Snoke was right. Something far older, far larger, and far hungrier than any Sith or Empire has been patiently waiting in the dark between galaxies, and the only being who fully understood it has just been killed."

There you have it! My backstory for Snoke. I feel that framing Snoke like this changes his death in The Last Jedi from being a narrative dead-end into the catalyst for an even larger, more terrifying cosmic threat. It makes Kylo Ren's decision to strike him down hit way harder, and sets up a post-TLJ galaxy for The Codex Canon that is both dangerous and fresh!

Thoughts?