The Power of Tribal Convictions
I grew up in a tribe whose core teachings expected me to recognize science as reason, and to do everything possible to ensure that our society gives equal treatment to all its members, regardless of color, sex, or tribal connection. I was raised to believe in evolution, the sanity of vaccinations—even a communal obligation to get vaccinations, and to work hard to recognize other cultures without harboring a sense of superiority inspired by my own cultural connections.
But that last part is difficult. It’s hard for me to imagine why somebody would disregard scientific data or the guilty verdicts indicating a chosen leader has committed multiple crimes. But today I read an editorial in the Washington Post that finally helped me understand why people behave in ways that seem, to me, unreasonable. Or even unethical.
The writer, Ella Al-Shamahi, explained that she was once a Muslim missionary determined to dismantle the theory of evolution. She says, “I arrived [at University College London] on a mission: I wanted to prove that Charles Darwin was wrong. Like so many other creationists, I believed scientists were either lying to us or they were so biased that they were unknowingly misreading the data. The only way to dismantle their theory was to inspect the data for myself and prove it wrong.
“Two decades later, I am an evolutionary biologist. Working on a documentary about our species’ 300,000-year-old story made me reflect on my own evolution — and how, when you ask people to do something simple such as ‘believe the science,’ you might actually be asking them to pay an almost unimaginable price.”
That price is separation from one’s tribe: The community that instills beliefs and offers support when the chips are down. To go against one’s tribe feels risky. In some instances, blasphemous. If believing scientific data means challenging your tribe—or possible expulsion from your tribe—you’ll have strong incentive to disregard the data and follow tribal norms.
I believe in science and righting the wrongness of inequities based on color, gender, religion or disbelief in the divine. But I didn’t have to fight my tribal teachings to get here.
As a child, I occasionally wanted to belong to another tribe—one that had more members. One that gathered every Saturday or Sunday for a pep rally—a meeting where we’d sing, hold hands, and commune. I tried going to church with friends—a variety of worship flavors—but nothing stuck. The draw of my own tribe was paramount. And still is.
I’m currently starting life in a new place where tribes are not immediately recognizable. So, I must enter each human interaction with an open mind. And it’s good for me. While there is comfort in walking into a room of like-minded individuals—by going to a political meeting or, perhaps, a church known for its particular brand of community service—it’s a good exercise to take individuals at face value before slotting them into the boxes of my mind.
It’s not an easy exercise. I instinctively want to know into which slots to file people—so I will feel safe. It’s a fight or flight mechanism: If I find myself surrounded by members of an opposing tribe, I might be in danger. But this new view of people resolutely cleaving to the convictions of their clans in the face of conflict might help me keep snap judgements at bay.
For now, I’ll refrain from advertising my beliefs. No bumper stickers, yard signs, shirts with slogans—or even a “Make Music, Not War” sticker on my banjo case. But if asked a direct question, I will speak the truth—as I see it.