Comfort & The Art of Not Noticing: What Andor Season 2 Teaches Us How Comfort Aides Oppression

I use television and movies as a way to escape and take in the creativity and art of filmmakers. I also love the lore and stories of complex worlds. It makes me feel that I am peeking into possible futures or outcomes that could affect us. Sometimes the shows are silly, action overloads, or beautiful and moving.

My favorite though are shows that combine all of those elements and truly make the viewer think and feel something. I was just as excited as every other Star Wars fan as the approach of the second season of Andor approached. The acting is superb, and the tale of how the rebellion of that galaxy came into being is fascinating. The show works because it is less space opera than the films and more street level and gritty. A part of that grit is showing how the oppressive nature of the Galactic Empire and its totalitarian tactics slowly tightens the noose around the people of the galaxy. It also shows how many citizens either just try to keep their head down and live their life or were in full out denial of what was happening to them.

Let’s face it: if Andor Season 2 has taught us anything, it’s that the Empire doesn’t need your loyalty—it just needs your laziness. Your silence. Maybe a shrug or two. Possibly a brunch reservation and our desire for comfort in our lives.

While Andor dials up the tension with espionage, prison breaks, and Cassian’s haunted eyes staring into moral voids, the real star of the show might just be… the background characters. You know, the ones who don’t do anything. They keep shopping, clocking in at the data processing facility, or are just “following orders.” They’re the galactic equivalent of folks who say, “I don’t like to get political” while a Star Destroyer parks on their lawn.

And honestly? That’s the point.

The Cushion of Compliance

In Andor, comfort is a character. It doesn’t wear a uniform, but it definitely votes (or doesn’t, depending on the regime). It’s the warm, fuzzy feeling of believing that someone else will speak up. That the problem isn’t that bad. That “maybe the Empire has a point” about those rabble-rousing rebels.

You see this in the show through various lenses. One is through the galactic senate where senators continually discuss opening an investigation or sending a strong rebuke to the emperor about the latest shocking actions by the Empire. Many of the Senators are angry but refuse to venture outside the established norms of the senate. The problem is when one side is no longer playing by those rules you cannot make them adhere to the old norms. The comfort of the position, the power, and prestige make many in seats of power afraid to call out those breaking the rules. There is always a feeling that the oppressive regime will come back to the proper way of doing things because, "That is how we have always done it."

And that is exactly what they want you to do. While you are following established protocols, wringing your hands that they are not doing what they should be doing they are off wrangling power and control right out from under you. By the time they are already called out it is too late because they were allowed to gain a concrete hold on the law enforcement and judicial arms of the system.

Season 2 shows us that the Empire doesn’t just oppress through fear—it seduces with convenience. It’s so much easier to keep your head down and enjoy your expresso than it is to break a window, burn a manifesto, or even—gasp—question your boss.

We’re All That Guy on Coruscant

One of the villains in Andor is a man in his mid-thirties named, Syril Karn. He's a guy with mommy issues and a permanent jaw-clench. The interesting part of his character is that he is not at the helm of a ship willing to fire on civilians or leading a death squad dressed in all black and robotic armor. He’s not twirling a mustache, but he’s also not resisting. He’s aspiring—to rise within a system that rewards compliance and punishes decency. He’s not evil; he’s just… available. Syril wants to use the current regime to better his situation . . . raise his level of comfort in the world and closes his eyes to things happening in the galaxy. And he is terrifyingly relatable.

His character traits scream that he was not very popular when he was young, and that he spread a feeling of awkwardness wherever he went. He sees the discipline the Empire. He sees a purpose because like all fascist regimes the Empire doesn't care about merit or skills. They will ensure that through ruthless dedication to their goals. It only cares about loyalty to the Empire. Syril can give that because he doesn't have to worry about empathy, care, or the greater good.

We all know a Syril. We’ve been Syril. Stuck in a job we hate, quietly enabling nonsense because it pays well and comes with a dental plan. It is easy to become stuck to what the situation provides that benefits us. Be it a job, friendship, or relationship. The comfort becomes key, and humans will put up with a lot if we have some benefits that make our life even a stich closer to what we envision for ourselves. As Luthen, one of the key characters and original inciter of the rebellion cryptically states, "People fail. That is our curse."

The Myth of the Heroic Moment

We like to believe that when the moment comes—the moment—we’ll rise up, fist in the air, like we’re auditioning for the resistance. But Andor Season 2 reminds us that the moment doesn’t usually arrive with a trumpet fanfare and a helpful moral compass.

It shows up as a whispered rumor. A neighbor disappearing. A law that seems small—until it isn’t.

The show also plays off of history and with the Empire also creates a well-established fallacy that evil empires or fascist regimes come marching into our societies with shiny black boots and symbol-laden banners to be hung from every building. They may end up with these attributes, but the truth is far more insidious.

Evil regimes begin with small ideas that resonate with a very small, yet very loud, minority who use fear (often via a scapegoat, and fear of what that group may do to the established society) to gain power. Once in power they change laws to match their moral code, claiming, "It's what is best for society." Once that false moral high ground is claimed the average citizen who disagrees is shamed by fellow citizens, and sadly even family and friends for, "not loving their country" or "thinking they are smarter than those that are in power."

So What’s a Galactic Citizen to Do?

You don’t have to blow up a Death Star. Maybe you just start by noticing.

Speak up at work. Interrupt that casual bigotry at the dinner table. Question why some people always end up at the bottom. Help someone organize, vote, march, build.

Because the real resistance often begins in whispers, not warzones. In relationships, not rebellions. Resistance to evil is not a harrowing charge against outrageous enemy odds, it starts by calling out injustice and holding those that want to drastically change key parts of society and the way we view each other accountable.

As the great J.R.R. Tolkien explained, "Some believe it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. It is the small everyday deeds of ordinary fold that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love."

And hey—if Andor teaches us anything, it’s that even the smallest act of defiance can ripple outward. Like a stone dropped into the sterile pond of Empire-approved apathy.

So be the stone and make some ripples.

Just maybe duck when the stormtroopers show up.