By Ayya Dhammadīpā
These days there is a lot of emphasis on “finding your tribe.” Perhaps in response to the pervasive feelings of loneliness and isolation that are engendered by cultures of fierce economic competition and were reinforced by the pandemic, folks are now talking a lot about ways to identify and connect with other people like them. There are at least half a dozen recent books with “tribe” in the title and countless articles about this movement. There is even a “find my tribe” app. It seems like everyone is trying to find their tribe.
These efforts are based on the idea that we feel at ease with people who are like us, who share similar backgrounds or interests. For many people, finding your tribe means connecting with folks who look like you. For others, it means connecting with folks who have similar political views. Still others look for their tribe in groups of people who share enjoyment of a hobby, such as bird watching or reading contemporary poetry aloud. There is also much written about the community aspect of your tribe, encouraging folks to reach out to other folks in their local area. The basic idea behind finding your tribe is that seeking out connection with others who are similar to you will help you feel less isolated.
Certainly, there is some truth to that. When we interact with folks who can relate to our life’s experiences, we may feel a profound sense of relief and camaraderie. At last there are people to laugh and cry with, people who get us, people who care about what we care about. When I have conversations and relationships with folks who are Latin, like me, I find that we share similar funny stories or painful feelings from that experience. I can tell them about growing up in a household that looked a lot like the TV show I Love Lucy, and they understand. Those relationships feel close to my heart.
However, if finding your tribe becomes a way of reinforcing tendencies to divide people into categories and strengthen the sense of separation from others, it will be harmful. In that case, it is bound to increase dukkha. If you find that you are cutting yourself off from others and their tribes or criticizing them harshly, then you can see that your identification with the tribe is increasing conflict. For example, if I felt that I could only relate to folks of Latin heritage, then that would create in me a sense of alienation from folks of other kinds of heritage. It is common that strong identification with a group leads to strengthening of the sense of separation. In fact, it is much of the story of human history.
It is easy to turn our capacity for differentiation into a tool for alienation. As the sense of identification with your tribe grows stronger, it becomes harder to relate to others who look different, who have different views or backgrounds. When the feeling of being in conflict with other tribes arises, the desire for separation becomes even stronger. It becomes easier and easier to defend the boundaries and to see others as a threat. In fact, it becomes harder to see them as human.
This dynamic plays out in all sorts of ways. It is the reason that land is stolen and wars are fought. It is the reasoning behind the enslavement and oppression of others. This view is embedded in the policies and economic activities that lead to astounding income disparities. It enables people to destroy habitats and hunt animals for sport. Even mass shootings and gun violence can be tied to the sense of alienation that develops when you no longer see some human beings as part of your tribe.
However, if we are willing to study the situation, we will find that the sense of separation is a myth. When we see with clear eyes, we can observe that when we harm others, we are also harmed. We can see that the effort to oppress others also embitters us. It cuts us off from empathy and care. We can see that even when we can claim victory in the war, we have lost so much. We can see that there is never enough in the search for wealth, no matter how much we have, and that greed will always make us uneasy.
And, if we continue to look closely, we can see that we also benefit when others benefit. Feeling good about your impact on the world is the best way to get a good night’s sleep. Knowing that you have been a voice for good will uplift your heart. Finding room in your heart for those who you don’t understand or like can be a relief, enabling you to set down hatred. These are just some of the ways that we benefit from feeling connected to others.
There is a good example of this dynamic, in both its negative and positive forms, in the story of Rabbi Michael Weisser, his then wife Julie, and their family. They had moved to Nebraska seeking relief from antisemitism, but found themselves being harassed by Larry Trapp, a local Grand Dragon of the Ku Klux Klan. Trapp felt strongly identified with white, Christian people and saw Jews as a threat. Rather than move to another area, or respond with equal hostility, the Weissers chose another way. While Trapp would call with racist slurs, Rabbi Weisser would call to say, “Larry, there’s a lot of love out there. You’re not getting any of it. Don’t you want some?” Weisser and his family offered to take Trapp, who was disabled, to the grocery store. He accepted. Eventually, they were invited to Trapp’s house for dinner, where they saw that he had images of Hitler on the walls. Yet they continued to be friendly to him. Over time, Larry Trapp befriended the Weisser family, and even apologized to them. He left the Klan, and wrote letters to its members telling them that he had been wrong and that they should stop hating others. Later, Kathryn Watterson would write a book about it, titled Not by the Sword: How the Love of a Cantor and His Family Transformed a Klansman.
This is just one of many such stories. When folks discover the truth that they are not separate from others, that their well-being is bound up with the well-being of others, they naturally let go of hatred. And that is much better than any sword in battle. That is the sword of wisdom.
