In a phenomenon that began under Obama’s presidency, The Matrix has featured increasingly in Neo-Nazi and alt-right discourse. A popular subreddit, TheRedPill, run by an anonymous user calling themselves Morpheus Manfred, boasts almost 240,000 “unplugged” subscribers, providing a forum where men—and only men—can express themselves free from censure, to complain about uppity women and rail against a “feminized” culture that’s swallowed the blue pill of political correctness.

In alt-right jargon, to “redpill” someone is to unplug them from the (Feminist? Islamist? Neo-Marxist?) Matrix, to wake them up to a reality that’s white, male, and proud. If he were around today, Lothrop Stoddard would no doubt be another Morpheus Manfred, probably banned from Twitter but with a YouTube channel or an angry blog, spending his free time with other Proud Boys (an organization described on their website as being for “Western Chauvinists who refuse to apologize for creating the modern world”⁷²). Whatever the case, Stoddard would be doing his best to redpill someone.

The alt-right vision is defined by its simplicity, its belief in its own correctness. In the world of The Matrix, there’s a character called the Oracle. You might expect her to be similarly confident and self-assured in her judgments, maybe occupying a position of obvious power or influence. Instead, she’s an elderly black woman living in a small apartment in a rough-looking neighborhood.

At a crucial moment in the first Matrix film, Neo goes to see her. He wants to find out if he’s the One, the savior-like figure whose coming has been foretold. The Oracle is sitting in her kitchen smoking. She responds by pointing toward a wooden sign above her doorway, on which are printed the words Temet Nosce.

“You know what that means?” she asks. “It’s Latin. Means, ‘Know Thyself.’ I’m gonna let you in on a little secret. Being the One is just like being in love. Nobody can tell you you’re in love.”

I was always puzzled by that “little secret.” What does she mean? Is Neo meant to know instinctively that he’s the One in the same way you know you’re in love? But being in love is pretty much the most uncertain, tangled sort of knowledge there is. You can’t know it in the way you can know if it’s raining outside or if you have food on your face. It’s too fitful, too complicated. If knowledge excludes room for doubt, maybe love can’t be “known” at all.

Convinced of their ability to see through the delusions of others, the alt-right believe themselves uniquely in possession of self-knowledge. But as Nietzsche wrote, the self is “something that shall be overcome.”⁷³

At this stage in the journey, Neo is still too occupied with trying to work out who he is. The Oracle wants him to see that any certainty he’s looking for—or thinks he wants—is not just impossible but a bad idea. Speaking from the perspective of what Audre Lorde calls the “dehumanized inferior,”⁷⁴ the Oracle knows how often the power of an assured self rests on the oppression of others. One person’s certainty comes at the expense of another’s freedom. But the self is something open and unknowable. Like love, identity should be founded on doubt.

To make her point, she pretends to be an orthodontist, examining the inside of Neo’s mouth to check for signs of his Oneness. This is what he wants, right? Empirical certainty. As if teeth and gums might reveal his destiny, as if it were possible to discover your identity in the same way you might find out that you have gingivitis.