Cultic Studies Review, Vol. 2, No. 3, 2003, Page 72
his real body inside the hovercraft (i.e., in the real world) writhe in agony and bleed
profusely out of the mouth. The same applies to Neo whose physical body in the
Nebuchadnezzar dies (before his Christ-like resurrection) after his residual image is shot
within the Matrix. Therefore, Zach Staenberg and John Gaeta are wrong in their
assumption that "all these people are virtual" and so "nobody actually dies" (see above). If
the real Mouse dies after being shot, then so do the real bodies of all the security men shot
by Neo and Trinity in the government building.
In this connection Frances Flannery-Dailey and Rachel Wagner wonder why the Wachowski
brothers make the violence so real in the film:
Indeed, the "violence" which takes place in the Niko Hotel could still be portrayed, with the
reassuring belief that any "deaths" which occur there are simply computer blips. The fact
that the writers so purposefully insist that actual human beings die (i.e. die also within the
power plant) while serving as involuntary "vessels" for the agents strongly argues for The
Matrix‘s direct association of violence with the knowledge required for salvation (53 also
see Peter X Feng: 151).
I would suggest that a shift in semiotic perspective occurs when we read The Matrix in this
light. Instead of seeing the cyberworld as analogous to the Buddhist samsara — a world of
illusion that every human must strive to overcome in order to access a higher reality
(Frances Flannery-Dailey and Rachel Wagner: 26), instead of interpreting Morpheus's rebels
as the enlightened ones of Mahayana Buddhism who give of themselves in order to guide
the "blind" out of samsara and toward enlightenment (Frances Flannery-Dailey and Rachel
Wagner: 30), I would propose the model of a modern aggressive, violent cult.
The story of destructive fringe religious movements begins with the Book of Revelation in
the New Testament. The author, John of Patmos, offers a reading of the Roman Empire not
as a sociopolitical network that offered peace and relative prosperity to most of the world
for the first time in human history. Instead, feeling disenfranchised as a member of a new
religious movement that did not fit into any religious system of the times, John presents the
entire world as an instrument of cosmic evil slated for destruction (cf., Adela Yarbro Collins:
141-142). The only exception is a small group of "saints" that follow John's understanding
of Christianity. The method for legitimizing this stance is the projection of the social
conflict in question to the transcendental plane where the in-group (John's Christians) are
agents in the hands of God while the out-group (the rest of humanity) are representatives
in the hands of Satan (cf. Adela Yarbro Collins: 148-150). This model went on to inspire
various millenarian sects throughout the Middle Ages and the early Renaissance, e.g., the
Anabaptists. As Norman Cohn points out, one can recognize the paradigm of what was to
become and to remain the central phantasy of revolutionary eschatology. The world is
dominated by an evil, tyrannous power [...]until suddenly the hour will strike when the
Saints of God are able to rise up and overthrow it. Then the Saints themselves, the chosen,
holy people who hitherto have groaned under the oppressor's heel, shall in their turn inherit
dominion over the whole earth (4).
The pattern of social turmoil which emerged as a result of this thinking worked as follows:
A marginalized group (often consisting of peasants that flocked to medieval cities but could
find no work or a social niche) dealt with its frustration by isolating itself from mainstream
society exactly as John demands in Revelation.
The group argued that society was part of a cosmically evil enemy deserving of utter
destruction.
Often violent acts (including the massacre of local Jews [Norman Cohn: 49-50, 61-2]) would
be committed against society on the assumption that a divine agent would intervene and
usher in the end of the unjust world (cf. Norman Cohn: 29-32, 253, 314).
his real body inside the hovercraft (i.e., in the real world) writhe in agony and bleed
profusely out of the mouth. The same applies to Neo whose physical body in the
Nebuchadnezzar dies (before his Christ-like resurrection) after his residual image is shot
within the Matrix. Therefore, Zach Staenberg and John Gaeta are wrong in their
assumption that "all these people are virtual" and so "nobody actually dies" (see above). If
the real Mouse dies after being shot, then so do the real bodies of all the security men shot
by Neo and Trinity in the government building.
In this connection Frances Flannery-Dailey and Rachel Wagner wonder why the Wachowski
brothers make the violence so real in the film:
Indeed, the "violence" which takes place in the Niko Hotel could still be portrayed, with the
reassuring belief that any "deaths" which occur there are simply computer blips. The fact
that the writers so purposefully insist that actual human beings die (i.e. die also within the
power plant) while serving as involuntary "vessels" for the agents strongly argues for The
Matrix‘s direct association of violence with the knowledge required for salvation (53 also
see Peter X Feng: 151).
I would suggest that a shift in semiotic perspective occurs when we read The Matrix in this
light. Instead of seeing the cyberworld as analogous to the Buddhist samsara — a world of
illusion that every human must strive to overcome in order to access a higher reality
(Frances Flannery-Dailey and Rachel Wagner: 26), instead of interpreting Morpheus's rebels
as the enlightened ones of Mahayana Buddhism who give of themselves in order to guide
the "blind" out of samsara and toward enlightenment (Frances Flannery-Dailey and Rachel
Wagner: 30), I would propose the model of a modern aggressive, violent cult.
The story of destructive fringe religious movements begins with the Book of Revelation in
the New Testament. The author, John of Patmos, offers a reading of the Roman Empire not
as a sociopolitical network that offered peace and relative prosperity to most of the world
for the first time in human history. Instead, feeling disenfranchised as a member of a new
religious movement that did not fit into any religious system of the times, John presents the
entire world as an instrument of cosmic evil slated for destruction (cf., Adela Yarbro Collins:
141-142). The only exception is a small group of "saints" that follow John's understanding
of Christianity. The method for legitimizing this stance is the projection of the social
conflict in question to the transcendental plane where the in-group (John's Christians) are
agents in the hands of God while the out-group (the rest of humanity) are representatives
in the hands of Satan (cf. Adela Yarbro Collins: 148-150). This model went on to inspire
various millenarian sects throughout the Middle Ages and the early Renaissance, e.g., the
Anabaptists. As Norman Cohn points out, one can recognize the paradigm of what was to
become and to remain the central phantasy of revolutionary eschatology. The world is
dominated by an evil, tyrannous power [...]until suddenly the hour will strike when the
Saints of God are able to rise up and overthrow it. Then the Saints themselves, the chosen,
holy people who hitherto have groaned under the oppressor's heel, shall in their turn inherit
dominion over the whole earth (4).
The pattern of social turmoil which emerged as a result of this thinking worked as follows:
A marginalized group (often consisting of peasants that flocked to medieval cities but could
find no work or a social niche) dealt with its frustration by isolating itself from mainstream
society exactly as John demands in Revelation.
The group argued that society was part of a cosmically evil enemy deserving of utter
destruction.
Often violent acts (including the massacre of local Jews [Norman Cohn: 49-50, 61-2]) would
be committed against society on the assumption that a divine agent would intervene and
usher in the end of the unjust world (cf. Norman Cohn: 29-32, 253, 314).
