The Matrix Is 25 — & As Relevant As Ever

As The Matrix Turns 25, Its Philosophical Questions Remain As Relevant As Ever

The Wachowskis' sci-fi film tackled some of humanity's biggest existential concerns, writes Richard Colledge

THE END OF MARCH marks 25 years since the release of The Matrix, directed by The Wachowski siblings. The “cyberpunk” sci-fi movie was a box office hit in 1999, the year of its release, with its dystopian futuristic vision, distinctive fashion sense, and slick, innovative action sequences. In addition, it was also a catalyst for popular discourse around some very big philosophical themes.

The film centres on a computer hacker, “Neo” (played by Keanu Reeves), who learns that his whole life has been lived within an elaborate, simulated reality. This computer-generated dream world was designed by an artificial intelligence of human creation, which industrially farms human bodies for energy while distracting them via a relatively pleasant parallel reality called the “matrix”.

This scenario recalls one of western philosophy’s most enduring thought experiments: In a famous passage from his Republic (ca 380 BCE), Plato has us imagine the human condition as being like a group of prisoners who have lived their lives underground and shackled, so that their experience of reality is limited to shadows projected onto their cave wall.

A freed prisoner, Plato suggests, would be startled to discover the truth about reality, and blinded by the brilliance of the sun. Should he return below, his companions would have no means to understand what he has experienced and surely think him mad. Leaving the captivity of ignorance is difficult.

In The Matrix, Neo is freed by rebel leader Morpheus (ironically, the name of the Greek God of sleep) by being awoken to real life for the first time. However, unlike Plato’s prisoner, who discovers the “higher” reality beyond his cave, the world that awaits Neo is desolate and horrifying.

The Matrix also traded on more recent philosophical questions...notably those posed by 17th century philosopher, scientist and mathematician René Descartes, concerning our inability to be certain about the evidence of our senses, and our capacity to know anything definite about the world as it really is.

Descartes even noted the difficulty of being certain that human experience is not the result of either a dream or a malevolent systematic deception. The latter scenario was updated in philosopher Hilary Putnam’s 1981 “brain in a vat” thought experiment, which imagines a scientist electrically manipulating a brain to induce sensations of normal life.

So ultimately, then, what is reality? The late 20th century French thinker Jean Baudrillard, whose book appears briefly (with an ironic touch) early in the film, wrote extensively on the ways in which contemporary mass society generates sophisticated imitations of reality that become so realistic they are mistaken for reality itself (like mistaking the map for the landscape, or the portrait for the person).

Of course, there is no need for a matrix-like AI conspiracy to achieve this. We see it now, perhaps even more intensely than 25 years ago, in the dominance of “reality TV” and curated identities of social media. In some respects, the film appears to be reaching for a view close to that of the 18th century German philosopher Immanuel Kant, who insisted that our senses do not simply copy the world; rather, reality conforms to the terms of our perception. We only ever experience the world as it is available through the partial spectrum of our senses.

Ultimately, the Matrix trilogy proclaims that free individuals can change the future. How then should that freedom be exercised? This dilemma is unfolded in the first film’s red/blue pill scene, which raises the ethics of belief. Neo’s choice is to embrace either the “really real” (as exemplified by the red pill he is offered by Morpheus) or to return to his more normal “reality” (via the blue one).

This quandary was captured in a 1974 thought experiment by American philosopher Robert Nozick. Given an “experience machine” capable of providing whatever experiences we desire, in a way indistinguishable from “real” ones, should we stubbornly prefer the truth of reality? Or can we feel free to reside within comfortable illusion?

In The Matrix we see the rebels resolutely rejecting the comforts of the matrix, preferring grim reality. But we also see the rebel traitor Cypher (Joe Pantoliano) desperately seeking reinsertion into pleasant simulated reality. “Ignorance is bliss,” he affirms.

Meanwhile, the film’s chief villain, Agent Smith (Hugo Weaving), darkly notes that unlike other mammals, (western) humanity insatiably consumes natural resources. The matrix, he suggests, is a “cure” for this human “contagion”. We have heard much about the potential perils of AI, but perhaps there is something in Agent Smith’s accusation. In raising this tension, The Matrix still strikes a nerve – especially after a quarter century more of insatiable consumption.

Richard Colledge heads the School of Philosophy at the Australian Catholic University. This essay originally appeared on The Conversation and has been republished here under the Creative Commons Licence.

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