In the 1999, science fiction film, The Matrix, a computer hacker named Neo discovers his entire reality is just a simulated world called the Matrix, created and designed by intelligent machines intent on the enslaving of humanity for energy, as the real world has long become a post-apocalyptic wasteland.
Recruited by a rebel leader named Morpheus and a bad, bad super woman (think Princess Tiana with a master’s degree and a black belt in bad assery) called Trinity, Neo learns to bend the Matrix’s rules, fighting powerful folks called “Agents” to free humanity, liberate minds and overthrow the machine overlords, believing he is “the One” prophesied into existence by a 92 percenter who can bake and also wax brilliantly, to save humanity.
After facing danger and betrayal all movie long, Neo embraces his potential, realizing he can manipulate the Matrix, ultimately gaining power over the Agents and proving he might just be “the One.”
At the very final scene of the piece, Neo has accepted that he is The One, and he reaches out to contact the Machines directly by telephone.
Neo rejects any notion of predetermined paths or destiny, and offers humanity a way forward when he says: “I’m going to show them a world without [constraints]. A world without rules and controls, without borders or boundaries. A world where anything is possible. Where we go from there is a choice I leave to you.”
Neo delivers this message — part soliloquy, part homily — after making the pronouncement that he can “feel” the Machines and can stop the war, setting the stage for freedom and choice.
This current season, for many, feels oddly like the Matrix.
In this season, the defining characteristic of our current era is not technological advancement or global connectivity, but rather our profound fragmentation. We are a whole society broken into small segments.
Across social media feeds, within political arenas, and certainly even at family dinner tables, a chasm has opened, cleaving communities and nations into ideological, racial, theological, and philosophical forts.
The immediate impulse in times of strife is often to retreat into warmer, more comfortable environments, seeking refuge in echo chambers that validate our existing beliefs. This self-segregation, in where we live, worship, and socialize, is a natural, yet ultimately destructive, coping mechanism. It allows personal biases to harden and prevents the kind of introspective, uncomfortable conversations necessary for real change. The current social landscape is less a dialogue and more a shouting match, where seeking common ground is often viewed as a betrayal of one’s own “side”.
To move forward, we must reject the false security of our islands and embrace the challenging work of collaboration. As history has shown, progress is rarely the result of artificial forcing, but rather the result of “severe and constant struggle” to understand and accommodate different perspectives. This does not mean abandoning our values, but rather recognizing that true security lies not in defense against each other, but in the highest intelligence and development of all members of society.
So, where do we go from here?
We must commit to having difficult conversations and actively listening to the fears and frustrations that drive different viewpoints, rather than simply dismissing them as anger or irrationality.
We need to move beyond simply “feeling good” about diversity or inclusion and implement concrete policies, practices, and procedures that ensure equity and justice are systemically ingrained.
Instead of building walls — whether physical or metaphorical—we must transform our shared spaces (schools, community centers, online platforms) into true civic forums where citizens can come together, heal, and work on solutions to complex social problems.
On a policy level, we need clear national goals, whether on climate change, economic inequality, or criminal justice reform, that provide a unified direction and help mitigate the current regional and ideological differences in planning.
The path forward is not easy. It demands that we assert our inherent dignity and worth while simultaneously recognizing the humanity in those with whom we disagree.
The real work is in moving beyond “chaos” and actively choosing “community” by uniting to fight systemic issues like poverty and inequality of opportunity. We must consciously decide to move into the light, even when the darkness feels overwhelming. The future is not a predetermined fate, but a choice we make together, one difficult conversation and one inclusive policy at a time.
