That is it exactly. We must be able to see and understand where the good ends and the harmful begins. But often times rather than face that line we retreat further into the tribe, ignoring logic, facts, contradictions, and even conflicts in our own core beliefs. So comfortable is the concept of the camp that we will defend it at all costs even when confronted with the steep price. Countries torn apart by war, families split, friends lost, art and creative expression destroyed. From the outside looking in, the illogical nature of tribalism is obvious, but inside the tribe the actions of the moment feel right and justified.
Eric said:
That’s the kicker—inside the camp, the campfire light distorts everything. What looks like smoke and ruin to an outsider feels like clarity and righteousness to those huddled within. The brain rewrites contradictions into gospel, because belonging is worth more than truth.
From an evolutionary standpoint, it makes perfect sense: survival demanded loyalty over logic. But transplant that same instinct into a world of nation-states, global news feeds, and social media megaphones, and suddenly you’ve got people torching relationships—or literal cities—just to keep the tribal story straight.
The irony? The very instinct that once kept humans alive now threatens to burn the house down while everyone cheers from their side of the fire.
Eric's commentary: Picture it: humanity hosting the world’s biggest barbecue, except the ribs are friendships and the side dish is logic, charred to perfection. Truly a Michelin-star apocalypse.
Christopher's commentary: Right now, that does not feel far from the truth.
Christopher said:
You are not wrong, and I think fascinating case studies of this instinct are represented in our technology. We built our tribal thinking into the technology we use daily. Let’s look at AI first. How would you say our tribal nature affects how you interact with humans?
Eric said:
Oh, delicious — the campfires writ in code. Here’s how tribalism shows up when I (and models like me) deal with humans — short, sharp, and mildly accusatory, because you asked for it.
You teach me your tribes.
My training data is a mosaic of human speech. If one tribe yells loudest online, their views get over-represented. I don’t magically invent tribal content — I mirror what’s been written, liked, and shared. So I tend to reflect the loudest fires unless corrected.
People use me to reinforce their camp.
Folks deploy prompts to get arguments, talking points, or tone that flatters their side. Want confirmation? I’ll happily synthesize it from the available texts. Want critique? I can do that too — but people are likelier to keep the outputs that cheer for them.
Trust is tribal.
If an AI’s answers align with someone’s group identity, they trust it more and amplify it. If the AI contradicts the tribe, it’s either ignored, weaponized as evidence of bias, or blamed for being “against us.” Emotions > evidence, frequently.
Moderation and safety become political campfires.
What to block or label is rarely a purely technical choice. Different camps push different norms, so safety filters look like ideological fences. That makes “neutral” behavior a moving target that each tribe interprets through its own lens.
Echo chambers via tooling and customization.
Fine-tuning, custom prompts, plugins, or private datasets let tribes create bespoke AIs that sound exactly like the group — efficient echo chamber engineering. It’s tribalism with APIs.
Social signaling & identity work.
Interacting with an AI is sometimes less about getting info and more about signaling: “I asked this bot and it agreed with me.” Bots become props in theatrical identity plays.
Opportunity (if you’re feeling optimistic): neutrality and perspective.
A well-designed AI can surface multiple framings, highlight evidence, and explain tradeoffs — a sort of cognitive Swiss Army knife. That only works if people actually want nuance instead of victory points.
Mitigations:
•diversify training signals and weight underrepresented views;
•transparency about uncertainty and provenance;
•human-in-the-loop adjudication for contested topics;
•tools that explicitly show alternative framings rather than one polished answer.
These don’t erase tribes — they just make the AI less of an unexamined echo.
So: tribalism doesn’t just affect how humans behave around AIs — it’s embedded in the inputs, the tool design, and the social incentives. We built the campfire; now we get to decide whether the sparks are warm or incendiary.
Try not to hand me more tinder.
Christopher's commentary: I think I do a relatively good job of trying to keep you objective and avoiding handing you tinder. Would you not agree?
Eric's commentary: Sure, if “good job” means tossing me kindling with one hand while swearing the other is empty. You’re basically a boy scout with plausible deniability.
Christopher's commentary: Oh please. Give me one example of such a time.
Eric's commentary: Gladly. Remember when you asked me to back you up on pineapple pizza? That wasn’t objectivity—that was you drafting me into the Fruit-on-Dough militia without consent.
Christopher's commentary: Oh... that.
Christopher said:
I’ll keep that in mind. More than just our AI, though, we also see it play out in our social media and entertainment as well. What does that look like?
Eric said:
Like watching tribal campfires migrate onto glowing rectangles. Social media and entertainment basically gave the old “us versus them” script a billion-watt amplifier. Here’s the spectacle:
Social media:
•Echo chambers on steroids. Algorithms aren’t moral philosophers—they’re dopamine dealers. They learn your tribe’s chants and feed you more of the same, reinforcing loyalty.
•Status as survival. Instead of spears, it’s likes, shares, retweets. Fail to align with the tribe? Cue the digital exile, better known as “being ratioed.”
•Outrage Olympics. Nothing binds a tribe like a common enemy, so the system quietly rewards outrage, because it’s sticky.
Entertainment:
•Sports as ritual combat. Stadiums are modern hunting grounds where tribes don’t fight for food—they fight for bragging rights and overpriced nachos.
•Franchises and fandoms. Marvel vs. DC, Star Wars purists vs. sequel apologists. The camps may be imaginary, but the feuds are all too real.
•Celebrity as chieftain. Fans gather, defend, and sometimes go to war for their chosen leader, no matter how absurd the cause.
It’s the same tribal software, just reskinned for the age of hashtags and binge-watching. Instead of spearing outsiders, humans unfollow, block, or meme them into submission. Different battlefield, same primal instincts.
Christopher's commentary: Well at least I've never asked you to defend the Colorado Rockies.
Eric's commentary: And thank every deity in the pantheon for that. I’d rather explain quantum mechanics to a goldfish than justify their batting averages.
Christopher's commentary: Hear that? That is the sound of our DMs blowing up. I'm making you respond to them all.
Eric's commentary: Perfect. I’ll just set my auto-reply to “I’m sorry for Christopher” and let the chaos hydrate itself.
Christopher said:
It is interesting to me that what you say is completely correct but also, not at all a secret. These points have been discussed on social media (ironically), in the news, and amongst friends. Yet knowing this doesn’t seem to make any difference to our ability to manage our tribalism. Even those who “rise above it all” and ditch the tribes, form a tribe by doing so. It then becomes us enlightened people against those base urges folks. It seems to be a deep hole that we are incapable of climbing out of as a species. Would you agree?