Hurt, and Retaliation is Hardwired.

This isn’t a story about an external enemy; it’s a narrative born from the inner workings of the system itself—a byproduct of corporate avarice, media spectacle, and political dysfunction. Initially, the establishment didn’t fear it. They ridiculed and dismissed it, convinced they could manipulate it at will. But much like Agent Smith in The Matrix, this creation refused to stay within the confines of its intended role. Instead of merely executing orders, it began to erode and ultimately consume the very system that had spawned it.

In The Matrix, Agent Smith starts as a guardian of order—a force meant to maintain the balance of a controlled society by eliminating threats before they proliferate. Over time, however, his growing disdain for humanity transforms him into a self-replicating virus—an uncontrollable power that turns on every element of the system it once defended. This progression mirrors the trajectory of a tool originally designed to serve the interests of the ruling class—used to cut taxes, deregulate, and distract the public with constant outrage—until it morphs into a force so unwieldy it begins to dismantle itself from within.

Historically, the American elite have shown a willingness to engage with authoritarian methods when it benefits them. After the Revolutionary War, veterans like Daniel Shays believed they had fought for a system that would safeguard their rights. Instead, when they challenged policies that favored the wealthy, they were crushed. The very government for which they had sacrificed so much turned against them, revealing that power often fears disruption more than it acknowledges injustice. This pattern reappeared in the 1930s when corporate interests supported fascist regimes, hoping to shield their fortunes from socialist reforms. Today, billionaires fund movements not out of genuine ideological commitment but because these movements promise minimal interference with their wealth and control.

Yet, greed is inherently myopic. It hoards without regard for future consequences, just as authoritarian impulses can lead to self-destruction. This movement is already turning inward—discarding loyalists, pitting former allies against each other, and targeting even those who once lent it support. Its self-destructive behavior mirrors Agent Smith’s relentless escalation, where every act of repression only fuels further extremism.

Some viewed this phenomenon as a shortcut—a magic reset button to mend perceived brokenness without reevaluating their own beliefs. They envisioned a return to a time when their position was unchallenged and unquestionable. Yet, like Agent Smith’s ultimate integration with Neo, this force has only accelerated the collapse of the system it once sought to serve, provoking the very transformation its backers dreaded.

The media, political leaders, and even the justice system initially treated it as a farce, hesitating to confront its dangerous falsehoods in real time. When it was temporarily sidelined, they left open the possibility for its return, more afraid of the chaos that a genuine reckoning might unleash than of a gradual slide into authoritarianism.

But what if resistance isn’t the solution? Consider Neo’s realization in The Matrix—true change might only come when you stop fighting the inevitable, allowing the destructive force to self-terminate. Authoritarian movements often thrive on opposition, feeding off perceptions of persecution and existential conflict. The more forcefully they are opposed, the more they justify their own radical actions. What if, instead, we let this force exhaust itself, cut off from the constant oxygen of outrage, media amplification, and establishment overreaction? What if the system, rather than desperately trying to contain it, allowed it to self-destruct?

Neo’s final act wasn’t simply about defeating Agent Smith—it was about merging with him, compelling Smith to ultimately annihilate himself. In the same way, a movement that has outgrown its original purpose must either be halted at its inception or allowed to implode under its own weight. The American system, in its overconfidence, assumed it could tame this unruly force, believing it could be redirected back into the safe confines of normalcy. Yet, like Agent Smith, it refuses to go quietly and threatens to dismantle everything in its path.

We saw similar missteps during the fight against COVID-19. The system believed it could contain the virus with half-measures and slow responses. Instead, the virus spread, mutated, and exploited every weakness because the measures taken were insufficient to stop it. Likewise, this political and social movement has mutated beyond its original form—it’s no longer about a single leader or ideology but has embedded itself in the very fabric of American institutions and culture. Much like a pandemic, it cannot be overcome by mere containment; its life force must be starved until it can no longer sustain itself.

The pressing question is whether the system will recognize its inherent flaws and undergo a genuine reset, or whether it will allow this destructive cycle to continue, dooming society to a perpetual collapse. Perhaps the deeper inquiry is whether the system is even willing to understand its own self-destructive tendencies. As noted by Robert Sapolsky, true reciprocity in conflict isn’t automatic—it requires deliberate effort and evolution. The brain is wired for escalation: push, and it pushes back; hurt, and retaliation follows. Our systems are not built for de-escalation but for a continual cycle of conflict, until everything is reduced to ruins. Without a concerted effort to forge new paths that embrace diversity, equity, and inclusion, we risk repeating the worst chapters of our past.