It's not just human nature to associate in tribes. It's deeper

Hear the words of Jordan Peterson, who speaks not only as a scholar of the mind but as one who gazes into the deep caverns of the human soul: “It’s not just human nature to associate in tribes. It’s deeper than that.” In this utterance, we are reminded that man is not merely a creature of solitary ambition, but one whose very survival, very identity, is bound to the tribe. Before cities were raised, before empires were carved, before words were etched into stone, there was the circle of the fire, the gathering of kin, the shared song of belonging. The tribe is not an invention of culture; it is the root from which culture springs.

To call it human nature is to speak lightly, as if it were a tendency we might resist or abandon. But Peterson insists: it is deeper. It is etched into our blood, whispered in our instincts, inscribed in the long memory of the species. For man alone is vulnerable; he cannot outrun the beasts, nor face the storm with bare hands. But man together — in tribe, in fellowship, in shared struggle — becomes mighty. The tribe gives identity, safety, and purpose. To be cast from it was once to be condemned to death. Thus, the pull toward belonging is older than history, older even than speech.

Consider the tale of Sparta, a city built not upon the glory of individuals but upon the unity of the whole. From birth, the Spartan was bound to his people, taught to live and die for them. In the phalanx, shoulder pressed to shoulder, each man’s shield guarded his brother. Alone, he was nothing; together, they were unbreakable. This is the wisdom of the tribe: that the strength of one is multiplied by the strength of all. Their survival, their greatness, came not from solitary heroes but from unity.

Yet the truth of tribes is not only strength but also peril. For the tribe that unites against the storm can also divide against its neighbors. History shows us both faces. Recall the Rwandan genocide, where tribal identity, once a source of belonging, was twisted into a weapon of hatred. The same instinct that preserves life can also destroy it when poisoned by pride and fear. Thus, the depth of the tribal bond is both blessing and danger — it binds us, but it can also blind us.

The meaning, O listeners, is this: we cannot escape our tribal essence, nor should we. But we must rise above its darker impulses. We must widen the circle of belonging, expand the borders of our tribe until they embrace not only kin and neighbor but stranger as well. For if the tribe was once the fire that kept us alive, now humanity itself must be the tribe that keeps us from perishing in division. The call of the ancients is reborn: E pluribus unum — out of many, one.

The lesson is clear: recognize the power of your need for community. Do not despise it, do not pretend you are an island, for you are not. Instead, ask yourself: What tribe do I serve? Do I gather to build or to destroy? Do I use my belonging to uplift, or to exclude? In every family, workplace, nation, and faith, we are bound in tribes. Let us choose to make them tribes of justice, mercy, and truth, rather than hatred and fear.

Therefore, take these practical actions: Seek your tribe, but seek it wisely. Join groups that call you to growth, not to destruction. Protect your people, but remember that all people are, at last, your people. When conflict arises, ask how the circle may be widened instead of broken. Build communities that are strong not because they exclude, but because they embrace. For in a world torn by division, the highest act of the tribal spirit is to make the whole earth your tribe.

So remember Peterson’s words: it is deeper than nature, this call to gather. It is the rhythm of our very being, the pulse of our survival. Do not reject it, but sanctify it. For in choosing the right tribe, in widening the borders of belonging, you do not merely live — you help humanity endure. And that is the work not of tribes alone, but of destiny.