The need to belong
Belonging is not optional for humans. It is a deep need that shapes identity, safety, and meaning. David Samson argues in Our Tribal Future that it is an enduring instinct that can and should be stewarded rather than suppressed. His work explores how our social wiring evolved for small, cooperative groups and still governs our lives today.
Belonging offers real benefits. It lowers anxiety and increases resilience. It provides accountability and care when life gets hard. It also brings responsibilities. Members are expected to contribute, resolve conflicts, and make space for new people. For most of history the benefits outweighed the costs because survival depended on cooperation. That context has changed. Our economies and institutions are global. Our communications technology collapse distance. Yet our ancient instincts still look for small circles and clear signals of who is in and who is out. When those signals are harnessed for the common good, the instinct is a gift. When they are exploited for status, profit and power over others, the instinct divides, distracts and damages us.
This series aims to understand each instinct and redirect it. Tribalism is a perfect test. It holds some of our best qualities, like loyalty and solidarity. It also holds our worst, like exclusion and scapegoating. The task is to keep the first set alive and to disarm the second. That starts with seeing how the instinct evolved and why it feels so compelling.
How tribalism evolved and scaled
Small groups kept early humans alive. Like our ape cousins, shared vigilance and pooled food beat going alone. Trust formed through face to face contact, repeated interactions, shared rituals, gossip and visible fairness. These conditions rewarded cooperation within the group and suspicion outside it. Samson describes this as an adaptive package, not a flaw. The instinct to prefer our own group once protected children and elders, who would not have survived without others.
Yuval Noah Harari, in Sapiens, explains how humans then did something unusual. We scaled cooperation beyond kin by telling shared stories. These stories were about gods, laws, nations, and money. They existed in minds rather than in nature, yet they allowed strangers to act like relatives. Soldiers marched for a flag. Traders trusted a coin. Citizens obeyed a constitution. This ability let tribes grow from dozens to millions.
Jeremy Lent, in The Patterning Instinct, adds another layer. Cultures adopt deep patterns of meaning about what is real, what is valuable, and what a good life looks like. These patterns shape institutions and technologies, which then reinforce the patterns. A culture that sees nature as a living web will build systems that prioritise reciprocity. A culture that sees nature as an external resource may build systems that prioritize extraction. Tribal identities sit inside those cultural patterns. They are steered by the stories we teach children, the rituals we repeat, and the symbols we honour.
This evolutionary story matters for practical reasons. It explains why symbols and rituals feel powerful. It explains why simple binaries attract us when life feels uncertain. It explains why a football jersey or a national anthem can move us to tears. It also explains why lines harden quickly in crises. When risk rises, our minds reach for simple categories. That response once kept us alive. In complex societies it can produce costly mistakes. The solution is not to erase belonging. The solution is to scale belonging wisely and to widen moral concern without losing local trust.
When tribalism heals and builds
Tribalism has produced some of humanity’s best outcomes. Mutual aid societies pooled risk long before the advent of formal insurance. Guilds protected standards and shared craft knowledge. Monastic orders copied texts and preserved learning during turbulent centuries. In many Indigenous cultures, kinship systems embedded rules for land stewardship and conflict repair. These were tribes in the healthiest sense. They combined identity with duty and ritual with reciprocity. People knew who they were and who they were for.
Belonging also builds courage. Movements for justice are rarely solitary. People risk their safety when they know their community stands with them. Songs, colors, and shared meals become a shield. Research shows that people in strong, inclusive groups cope better with stress and recover faster from setbacks. Rituals help here. Even simple practices, like meeting regularly, cooking together, or opening a discussion with a check-in, create stable bonds. Stability allows disagreement without collapse.
Our family has felt this at home. The small tribe of our household and our close friends gives us strength to do challenging things. Choosing to live with less is easier when the people you love agree on the purpose. Our Mulberries and Moon Festival last week, like the Avocado Festival before it was an opportunity to strengthen those tribal bonds. Repairing and giving feel natural when the acts reinforce shared identity. The same is true in wider community groups we support. A repair café is a tribe that makes generosity of time normal. Effective Altruism is a tribe that connects over rationality and deliberate giving to the most effective causes. Deep Adaptation is a tribe that normalises acceptance of a radically transformed future. Each has symbols, rituals, and roles. Each gives identity without requiring exclusion.
Tribalism can also help us face the future. We will need circles that support skills like counseling, food growing, improvisation, repair, and first aid. We will need circles that integrate newcomers and share resources fairly. Healthy tribes can carry hard truths with compassion. They can make graceful limits feel like solidarity rather than deprivation. They can also protect dissent. A living healthy tribe encourages challenge inside its boundaries. That practice prevents purity spirals and keeps learning alive.
When tribalism harms and divides
The same instinct can turn destructive. History shows repeated cycles of scapegoating when anxiety rises. Witch trials, religious wars and ethnic cleansings followed periods of scarcity and fear. Leaders turned the instinct to belong into an engine for exclusion. They defined an out-group and promised safety through punishment and destruction of the other. The promises were false, but the pattern was potent. It rewarded conformity and silenced empathy.
Modern life has new expressions of the same pattern. Political entrepreneurs frame elections as existential battles between tribes. Traditional and social media reward outrage and purity. Nuance loses to identity performance. People sort into information bubbles that feel safe and righteous. Studies show that when group identity fuses with political identity, trust erodes and compromise feels like betrayal. The policy stakes become secondary to team competition. Institutions and even family relationships strain under the weight of suspicion.
Marketing applies tribal cues to consumer life. Brands propose a substitute for belonging. Wear this logo, makeup or physique to join the tribe. Upgrade to stay in good standing. The message is not neutral. It tells us that social acceptance requires consumption and that meaning is scarce without purchase or personal transformation. This corrodes self confidence and increases waste. It also colonises time, since belonging becomes a calendar of sales and participation in consumption focused activities rather than the natural rhythm of relationships.
There is a personal cost too. When identity is tied to a single tribe, people fear honest doubt, both their own and others. Curiosity becomes risky. The tribe’s boundaries harden and policing increases. Creativity falls, and leaders who promise purity gain influence. That path ends in brittle communities that break under pressure. It also ends in cruelty, because purity always finds a new impurity to fight. Healthy tribes avoid this by keeping boundaries permeable and purpose higher than status. They allow many memberships. They value bridge builders who can find the common ground.
Tribalism in our lives and in Living More with Less
Our home is a small, intentional tribe. We eat together, argue, and repair relationships. We try to live with less, to free time and attention for what matters. We choose charities together and talk about why effectiveness matters. Those conversations teach our children that belonging can be generous rather than defensive. It stretches the idea of us to include people we may never meet. Part of our desire to take Adam and Dani to meet other children who have benefited from our giving, is to expand their empathy envelope and keep the tribe boundaries permeable.
Scouts have been instructive for our children. The uniforms and rituals meet their need for identity. The service projects and patrol system teach duty and cooperation. They learn that leadership is a role, not a rank. They also learn that tribes can make room for different strengths.
Living More with Less is our attempt to scale that kind of belonging. We plan to join ever more communities that are already living lightly and giving effectively. We want to share food with people who understand the true costs and waste less. We want to sit with people who give a portion of their income to save lives and reduce suffering. We hope to show that travel can be an exchange of culture and care rather than a purchase of comfort. Our tribe is open by design. Anyone can join by practicing generosity, curiosity, and a degree of restraint.
We also expect to be challenged. Tribes have norms that we will not always understand. We will need to listen first. We will need to accept help and give help on terms that respect local customs. We will need to say no at times to keep our purpose intact. Saying no is part of healthy boundaries for an individual and a tribe. A good tribe knows what it is for and what it is not for. That clarity prevents resentment and keeps relationships honest.
Designing healthier tribes for the future
Samson suggests a practical formula for healthy tribes. Keep groups small enough for trust to grow. Keep them open enough to cooperate with other groups. Align identity with prosocial norms such as fairness, honesty, and care for the vulnerable. Use specific rituals to reinforce those norms. Evaluate leaders by service, not spectacle.
Harari’s insight about shared stories applies here. A tribe’s story decides who counts as us and how we treat them. If the story says we are guardians of a shared home, then newcomers are guests rather than threats. If the story says we are consumers in a race, then neighbours become rivals. Make the story explicit. Teach it to children and newcomers. Align symbols and songs with the story. Do not leave meaning making to market forces.
Lent reminds us that deep cultural patterns drive our choices. If we pattern our lives around extraction, we will design tribes that compete over scarcity. If we pattern our lives around reciprocity, we will design tribes that share and repair. The shift begins with awareness. Map the rituals that already exist in the tribes you are part of. Do they reward accumulation, or do they reward contribution. Change the ones that train greed. Create new ones that train generosity and restraint.
Practical design steps help. Set a clear purpose. If you can’t decide what you are, decide what you are not. Meet at a predictable rhythm. Share food and laughter often. Rotate facilitation and small leadership tasks. Celebrate contributions that reduce consumption or increase care. Welcome multiple memberships to avoid purity spirals. Invite neighbouring groups to joint projects. Bridge identities on purpose. These steps sound simple, but they work because they match our social wiring.
A template for small and humanity-sized tribes
Small tribes work when people know one another by name and story. A workable size is where everyone can speak in a meeting and relationships can be repaired face to face. Many communities find that 30 to 150 people fits this description. Within that, create smaller circles for work and care, typically less than 12 people. Give each circle autonomy within shared principles. Make joining easy. Offer a simple rite of welcome and a path to participation that does not require spending money.
At the other end, we need a humanity-sized tribe to manage shared risks. Climate change, pandemics, and conflict ignore borders. Harari’s point about shared fictions can help here. We need a story big enough to motivate global cooperation without erasing local identity. An example workable story is that every child is our child and the planet is our shared home. Empathy matters. The story must be supported by institutions that reward cooperation and punish exploitation. It must be taught and sung and made visible in art and ceremonies, not just written in policy.
History shows that cultural patterns can change with practice and reinforcement. A humanity-sized tribe will need patterns that honour limits and celebrate reciprocity. It will need money stories that measure sufficiency rather than excess. It will need status stories that praise care, repair, and creativity over conspicuous consumption. These stories are already emerging in many places. The task of those of us wanting this future is is to connect the stories, learn from them, and make them normal.
Families can prototype this culture. Decide how your tribe earns status. Choose markers that strengthen care and reduce waste. Value the person who teaches a skill, cooks for the group, or fixes a neighbour’s tool. Create ceremonies that honour giving and restraint. Children learn quickly when recognition aligns with the tribe’s purpose. Adults do too.
Practical steps you can take now
Start with a clear purpose. Write a two sentence statement for your household or group. Keep it visible. Review it quarterly.
Build regular rhythm. Put a simple meeting on the calendar. Share a meal, check in, make one decision together, and plan one act of service.
Map your rituals. Keep the ones that cultivate care and courage. Replace the ones that encourage competition, comparison or waste.
Create a welcome path. Make it easy for a newcomer to join, learn, and contribute. Keep costs low.
Design for conflict. Agree on a short repair process. Encourage people to use it early rather than late.
Guard your group’s story. Resist marketing that tries to sell belonging. Protect your time. Belonging thrives when people create together rather than shop together.
Bridge on purpose. Pair with a different group for a joint project. Find a shared purpose, like caring for the same river or school, and work toward it.
Keep the circle open. Encourage members to be part of several tribes. Cross-pollination reduces purity tests and increases learning.
Closing reflections
Tribalism is not a bug in human nature. It is a feature that needs guidance. Our brains and bodies are tuned for belonging, and wise efforts can turn that instinct into a force for good. Stories scale cooperation and the patterns we live by shape everything else. Together they suggest a path. Keep tribes small enough for trust, open enough for cooperation, and guided by stories that honour limits and widen compassion.
In our home and on our journey we want to model that path. We want to belong in circles that reduce harm and increase care. We want to give generously and live lightly. We want our tribe to be porous so that belonging expands rather than contracts. If more families and communities do the same, the instinct that once defended the village can help protect our home, Earth and all her, our, children.