“That Makes Them Our Enemy”: The Dogmatic Belief of Morpheus

     

Since it was first released in 1999, The Matrix, directed by sisters Lilly and Lana Wachowski, has had a considerable impact on the wider popular culture, the consequences of which are still being felt twenty years later. Through its unique and ingenious blending of various religious motifs, cyberpunk staples, Japanese anime, a heavy reliance on the works of Joseph Campbell, as well as groundbreaking special effects that revolutionized the film industry, The Matrix has secured a place in history as not only an entertaining film, but one rife with theological depth and meaning. In addition, the subsequent sequels, The Matrix Reloaded and The Matrix Revolutions, while often criticized as convoluted, pretentious, and directionless, actually serve to bring to fruition a story of justice and redemption that, if left alone at the conclusion of The Matrix, would have only told a fraction of the liberative narrative the Wachowski sisters had in mind.

     
While this redemptive arc has been analyzed ad infinitum, more often than not with the character of Neo (Keanu Reeves) at the center of the discussion serving as the sacrificial pseudo-religious figure, it should be noted that the Wachowski sisters succeeded at creating a rich narrative palette, “a huge tapestry woven from beautiful threads, silk and silver and gold, each of which has strength and beauty, each of which we can trace from its beginnings to its end, but each of which weaves together with other threads to create a rich, complex design” (Seay & Garrett 2003, 11). Surprisingly, one of these threads that seems to be rarely examined with any depth is tied to the character of Morpheus, played by Laurence Fishburne.

     
Morpheus is often described as the John the Baptist to the Christ-figure of Neo, and this comparison is not without some justification. Undoubtedly, with the considerable amount of Christian symbolism at play within the original film, Morpheus tends to fit the bill of “a morphing Orpheus, a black White Rabbit, an R-and-B Obi-Wan Kenobi, a big bad John the Baptist, a Gandalf who grooves; every wise guide from literature, religion, movies, and comics” (Corliss, 1999). In addition, Chris Seay and Greg Garrett in The Gospel Reloaded write of the Morpheus/John the Baptist connection:

"The parallels to Morpheus seem clear: he likewise is a prophet in open rebellion against the system, and his “sect” certainly looks toward the end times – the destruction of the machines and the end of the world as they know it. Like John, Morpheus does not claim to be the Messiah, but he knows he is coming and that he will recognize him when he sees him" (Seay & Garrett 2003, 83).

However, simply relegating the role of Morpheus to wise sage and herald of the One fails to take into account the important spiritual lessons at work in his character arc over the span of The Matrix trilogy. Primarily, Morpheus seems to represent a theological critique with regard to an unyielding and dogmatic belief structure and how such a system can render an individual blind to genuine spiritual revelation.

     
Broadly speaking, the original film The Matrix can be viewed one of two ways: it can serve as a stand-alone good versus evil narrative where the machines serve as the villains standing in dualistic opposition to that of heroic humanity, or it can be viewed as the first act in a complicated redemption account that transcends oversimplified Manichean dynamics. When considering and comparing audience reception of the original film to the trilogy as a whole, it becomes readily apparent that the western Christian motif that permeates The Matrix was far more preferable to moviegoer sensibilities than the philosophically and spiritually dense narrative of the two sequels. While not writing of The Matrix trilogy per se, Clive Marsh addresses this issue:

"The reinforcement thesis maintains that the media preserve the existing social order. Whatever consumers of media may think they are doing they are in fact being constantly reminded of a dominant view of the world, as promulgated explicitly or implicitly with the media being consumed. In the case of film, then, it could be argued that something like 'the Judeo-Christian tradition' can be identified within or behind the majority of films watched by Western cinema-goers. There is, then, a theological traditionalism operating within the world of film. Even being able to pinpoint many exceptions merely proves the rule: Judaism and Christianity remain the norm despite the religious pluralism of the West and despite the questioning of whether religion has at all a positive function in society, especially in Western Europe” (Marsh 2009, 258).

This reinforcement thesis not only accounts for the success of The Matrix, it also explains the failure of the sequels to resonate with audiences, as The Matrix Reloaded and The Matrix Revolutions shockingly deconstructed not only the Christ-figure narrative of the first film, it challenged viewers to question the very concept of good versus evil that most contemporary western entertainment, politics, and religion is predicated on.

     
That said, it is crucial to view The Matrix trilogy not from the point-of-view of audience reception, it must be approached through the intent of the writing and directing team of the Wachowski sisters, and thus any specific character analysis must be viewed through the lens of the narrative as a whole, not just one specific film.

     
With regard to the character of Morpheus, his presumed status as a John the Baptist figure is generally viewed as a positive attribute by audiences, a man who is unswerving in his alleged knowledge of the Truth, and who, at the end of The Matrix, is apparently proven to be correct in his dogmatic and exceptional insistence that Neo is the savior of humanity. This belief is established in a conversation between Cypher (Joe Pantoliano) and Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss) during the opening frames of the original film:

CYPHER: We’re gonna kill him, you know that?

TRINITY: Morpheus believes he is The One.

CYPHER: Do you?

TRINITY: It doesn’t matter what I believe (Wachowski & Wachowski 1999).

From the outset, Morpheus is characterized, in some respects, as a cult leader who has not only convinced himself of his belief, he has also swayed others of his surety or, at the very least, forced his view onto others through sheer force of will and charisma. Why should it not matter what Trinity believes if not for the overwhelming dogmatic persistence of Morpheus? This idea of the belief of Morpheus dominating and overriding the views of others is later reinforced during the opening of The Matrix Reloaded when he asks a new crewmember to give over to Morpheus his trust and belief. This gives rise to the question of freedom, both as it pertains to the film, as well as with regard to larger social, political, and religious environments. If, within The Matrix, humanity is fighting for their freedom but not given the latitude to believe as they see fit, how free can they hope to be? Similarly, if, for example, a religious group advocates for spiritual freedom while simultaneously demanding dogmatic fealty, can the end result ever be considered true spiritual liberation?

     
Richard W. Boynton cuts to the heart of dogmatic religious belief, in this case Christian belief, when he writes, “Its essential claim is that above and beyond all possible natural knowledge certain privileged individuals and institutions have access to a kind of knowledge unattainable by man through his own efforts. This knowledge is imparted by revelation, communicated from a source above and beyond the human, and therefore certain, unchanging, and ultimate in a sense that no product of human intelligence could possibly be” (Boynton 1951, viii). For Morpheus, the revelation imparted to him comes from the Oracle (Gloria Foster), a mysterious character who tells him that he would find the One, the second coming of an individual who, years before, could manipulate the realm of the Matrix to his own purposes. Unfortunately, the Oracle fails to tell Morpheus who, exactly, the One is, and her conversations with other characters throughout the trilogy are often frustratingly vague. In addition, the mise-en-scene established by the Wachowski sisters of the control room supervising the Matrix, represented on video monitors by the iconic green digital code waterfall, is a chaotic mess of cables and machinery. This indiscernible technological stew is addressed by Cypher in a conversation with Neo when he explains that the code is too complicated to translate, and that he can only recognize occasional references to hair color. Despite this difficulty of interpreting the Matrix coupled with the questionable infallibility of the Oracle, the absolute knowing by Morpheus of what the Matrix represents should be called into question.

     
The unmovable dogmatism of Morpheus is put on full display when he and Neo meet for the first time in the rundown Lafayette Hotel, where Morpheus reveals, “I have spent my entire life looking for you” (Wachowski & Wachowski 1999). This line serves as an important moment in the characterization of Morpheus and his unyielding belief. Morpheus does not say that he has spent his whole life looking for the One; he enmeshes the fulfillment of the prophecy of the Oracle with the man, Thomas Anderson, otherwise known as Neo. Therefore, for Morpheus, Neo has to be the fulfillment of the prophecy, otherwise the belief, the very life, of Morpheus has been for naught, pointless, and based on a lie.

     
Within this same scene, Morpheus initiates a common meme throughout the trilogy, that of fate disguised as choice. Neo is presented with a blue pill and a red pill, the latter of which, according to Morpheus, symbolizes his decision to know the Truth. However, the question that needs to be explored is if Neo at this point ever had legitimate independent agency to genuinely choose his own path. Granted, he arrived at the meeting of his own free will, however, if Morpheus truly believed that Neo was the savior of the entirety of humanity and that the sum of his life had been spent searching for the One, how could Morpheus ever allow Neo to take the blue pill and return to his normal life? This faux scenario of choice is emphasized in an exchange between Morpheus and Trinity:

MORPHEUS: We did it, Trinity. We found him.

TRINITY: I hope so.

MORPHEUS: I don’t have to hope. I know it (Wachowski & Wachowski 1999).

This conversation is extremely telling of the character of Morpheus. His knowledge, alleged as it might be, is absolute, and is utilized to forcefully recruit Neo into a religious drama of prophetic fulfillment that Morpheus knows is divinely imparted by the Oracle. However, what does Morpheus actually know? Boynton writes:

"To know is to acquire beliefs or convictions that will stand up under any test that can legitimately be applied to them. Untested beliefs, however strongly held, cannot any longer qualify as knowledge. Depth, earnestness, or sincerity of conviction is not a valid criterion of truth. To be willing to die for your faith may witness to a high degree of heroism and self-sacrifice on your part, but it does not avail to show that your faith was not an illusion" (Boynton 1951, ix).

During The Matrix Morpheus undoubtedly displays “a high degree of heroism and self-sacrifice” when he allows himself to be captured by the oppressive regime of machines so that Neo might escape. His actions, however, are not based on any empirical, observable, or testable evidence that Neo is anything other than just another slave to the system. For Morpheus, it is not a question that he hopes is true, he simply knows. “To hope,” Gustavo Gutierrez writes, “does not mean to know the future, but rather to be open, in an attitude of spiritual childhood, to accepting it as a gift” (Gutierrez 1973, 125). Morpheus fails to display anything remotely resembling “an attitude of spiritual childhood,” and his dogmatic belief does not result in a softened heart of faith. Rather, Morpheus displays the chilling and calculating actions of a man determined to achieve what he perceives as victory, no matter the human cost.

     
For Morpheus, unbending dogmatic faith has led to a fundamental disconnect with the well-being and safety of humanity, as well as a sinister disregard for the value of life in the violent pursuit, ironically, of the liberation of that same community. While guiding Neo through a programmed simulation of the Matrix filled with citizens walking down a crowded sidewalk, Morpheus states, “The Matrix is a system, that system is our enemy…these people are a part of that system and that makes them our enemy. If you are not one of us, you are one of them” (Wachowski & Wachowski 1999, italics added). Morpheus is so desperate for liberation that the thought of killing innocent people, those blind to the cultural hegemony of the Matrix, is an acceptable outcome of his efforts and that of his crew. Countless scenes within The Matrix trilogy reveal the death of untold numbers of otherwise guiltless citizens, from police officers and security guards simply doing their jobs, to innocent civilians caught in the crossfire, exemplified when Trinity spectacularly crashes a helicopter into a glass skyscraper during the climax of the original film. Dogmatic belief in The Matrix results in acts of terrorism in a misguided attempt at liberation. Throughout the trilogy, however, violence begets violence in an ever-escalating conflict that culminates in the potential destruction of the entirety of humanity by the machines.

     
This ambivalence toward life displayed by Morpheus is even reflected in his relationship with Neo. After Neo is told the truth of the Matrix and is shown that humanity has been reduced to nothing more than a glorified battery for the machine world, he violently vomits and passes out. When he awakens, Morpheus tells him, “We never free a mind once it’s reached a certain age. It’s dangerous…I did what I did because I had to” (Wachowski & Wachowski 1999). The safety and physical well being of Thomas Anderson was of no consequence to Morpheus, as he was consumed with the dogmatic force of an individual powered by prophetic fervor.

     
As stated earlier, it is impossible to understand the message of The Matrix (or the story of Morpheus) without consuming the trilogy in its entirety. At the end of the original film, it appears as if the dogmatic belief of Morpheus has paid off, as Neo defeats Agent Smith (Hugo Weaving) and fully embraces the role of Christ-figure, including a death, resurrection, and ascent into the heavens. If The Matrix serves as the gospel story of the narrative, then The Matrix Reloaded undoubtedly plays as a type of parallel to the biblical Book of Acts. As a result of the climax of the first movie, Morpheus is bolder and more dogmatic than ever in his efforts at spreading the good news of the One, despite an overwhelming army of machines preparing to attack the human stronghold of Zion. “Consider what we have seen,” he admonishes an unbeliever. “Consider that in the past six months we have freed more minds than in six years. This attack is an act of desperation. I believe very soon the prophecy will be fulfilled and this war will end” (Wachowski & Wachowski 2003).

     
Seay and Garrett write, “In the first film, Morpheus serves in the role of visionary, the John the Baptist figure predicting the way to come. His faith in Neo and in the path remains so absolute that we urge Neo to believe; we believe, ourselves. But, as in life, the sequels complicate and even contradict what we think we know about life” (Seay & Garrett 2003, 94). By the end of The Matrix Reloaded, the prophecy of the One has been revealed to be simply another form of control by the machines, and that Neo is actually a programming glitch, an anomaly within the system of the Matrix that has been dealt with five times previous. And while both the prophecy of the second coming as well as the future events foreseen by The Oracle are not necessarily lies (from a certain perspective), the rigid dogmatism of Morpheus that demanded a singular interpretation of the prophecies allowed for only one response: despair and disbelief, as modeled in this exchange at the end of The Matrix Reloaded:

MORPHEUS: I don’t understand it. Everything was done as it was supposed to be done. Once The One reaches the source the war should be over.

NEO: In twenty-four hours it will be.

MORPHEUS: What?

NEO: If we don’t do something, in 24 hours Zion will be destroyed.

TRINITY: How do you know that?

NEO: I was told it would happen.

MORPHEUS: By whom?

NEO: It doesn’t matter. I believed him.

MORPHEUS: That’s impossible. The prophecy tells us-

NEO: It was a lie, Morpheus. The prophecy was a lie. The One was never meant to end anything. It was all another system of control.

MORPHEUS: I don’t believe that.

NEO: But you said it yourself. How can the prophecy be true if the war isn’t over (Wachowski & Wachowski 2003)?

Up to this point in The Matrix trilogy, Morpheus had challenged Neo and others to abandon all of their beliefs, defy everything they have been taught, and accept that reality, as previously defined, is not in fact reality at all. Dogmatism compelled Morpheus to believe that he knew the Truth specifically. Boynton writes:

"The importance of beliefs is that we tend to act upon them. If our beliefs are true, they will not let us down; the outcome will be in accordance with our expectations. If our beliefs are false, they will invariably let us down; if not at once, then in the long run. Contrary to a widespread impression, there is assuredly no virtue in the act of believing as such. It should be clear to anyone that no amount or degree of belief can overturn what has once been established as a fact" (Boynton 1951, 15).

Unfortunately for Morpheus, the true illusion was not the fabricated world of the Matrix, it was the illusion that he solved the puzzle, figured out the riddle of the One, and held claim over the one true path to freedom. Despite his rhetoric of freeing the mind, Morpheus was bound in a prison of dogmatic belief, a prison he refused to acknowledge even when he was confronted with the evidence of his own cage.

     
If the original film served as the Gospel narrative and the sequel was, in some manner, the biblical account of Acts, then the third entry is certainly an eschatological crisis on par with the Apocalypse of John, and the strain on all of the characters is evident as Zion nears destruction. At the start of The Matrix Revolutions, Morpheus appears fatigued and humbled by the revelations of the previous film. His cool exterior has cracked, and his struggle for answers and direction is obvious after his last encounter with The Oracle:

MORPHEUS: Oracle…

ORACLE: I know, Morpheus, I can see that you’re filled with doubt, clouded by uncertainty.

MORPHEUS: After everything that has happened, how can you expect me to believe you?

ORACLE: I don’t. I expect just what I’ve always expected. For you to make up your own damn mind. Believe me, or don’t (Wachowski & Wachowski 2003).

The words of the Oracle here appear to be a chastisement of the dogmatic belief of Morpheus who, up until now, failed to really understand the role of choice in his life. For him, if  “everything was done as it was supposed to be done,” then the solution should simply fall into place. Liberation and freedom would occur once all of the boxes on the list were checked off. Up to this point in the trilogy, Morpheus wrapped himself in the warm security of belief. With the shattering of that illusion, Morpheus is forced into the more uncertain land of faith. Boynton writes:

"There is a prevalent confusion between faith and belief, furthered by believers in the supernatural for their own purposes. In fact, whenever these people say faith, they almost invariably mean belief. Now the two are not identical, though they are certainly related. Each is an attitude toward something. Faith seems to be a more basic and less specific attitude than belief. To have faith in a person, cause, or whatever, is to trust in and give our confidence to that person, cause, or whatever else it may be" (Boynton 1951, 15).

This transition from dogmatic belief to faith for Morpheus can be seen when, after Neo leaves for Machine City, Morpheus tells the Council of Elders, “Neo is doing what he feels he must do. I don’t know what he can do to save us…but he will not give up. And neither can we” (Wachowski & Wachowski 2003). What Neo felt he had to do was, in a sense, truly fulfill his role as a Christ-figure. The prophecies were both wrong and right, as Neo becomes a savior not just for humanity, but for the machines as well. Morpheus, as a result of his dogmatic view of humanity representing the elect in need of restoration and redemption, failed to see the need to liberate the oppressors as well as the oppressed.

     
Clive Marsh writes, “Films which contain redemption as a key motif often have a simple purpose: to tell the story of someone who undergoes a massive change from a destructive form of life to one which is more hopeful” (Marsh 2007, 98). Within The Matrix trilogy, the narrative writ large is undoubtedly one of redemption. However, the richness and breadth of the mythology constructed by Lilly and Lana Wachowski enable viewers to engage in individual theological dialogues with the various characters occupying this dynamic cinematic universe. In the case of Morpheus, we bear witness to an individual unknowingly crippled by a strict dogmatic belief system that blinds him to a liberative faith that possesses the power to free the world both physically and spiritually.

     
Joseph Campbell has said “We need myths that will identify the individual not with his local group but with the planet” (Campbell & Moyers 1988, 30). Neo realized this need for a redemptive act for all, machines and humanity alike, and made a choice that ultimately brought peace between the two sides. As the machines cease their attack on Zion and leave at the end of The Matrix Revolutions, Morpheus emerges from the rubble and seems to finally understand the important role of faith in his life, as well as the dangers of dogmatic certainty. He discovers and seemingly embraces hope as opposed to abject belief in the inevitable.

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