The Tribe's Greatest Tool

After Germany’s defeat in the Second World War, having orchestrated the deaths of millions, the world seemed to slip into a kind of collective amnesia, or perhaps a selective naïveté. People began asking, almost incredulously, “How could such evil be carried out by so many?” But the answer, blunt and unflinching, is as simple as it is uncomfortable: The tribe. In truth, the actions of ordinary Germans during WWII didn’t reveal a lapse in universal morality, they revealed the absence of it. Morality shifted to fit tribal survival, ideology, and opportunity, just as it always has.

Morality, as understood by most people, is often presented as absolute, universal, and inherently embedded in human nature. Yet, a closer examination of history, human behavior, and societal patterns strongly challenges this assumption, suggesting instead that morality is predominantly tribal, a mechanism crafted to ensure the survival, cohesion, and internal harmony of the group.

Consider the ancient biblical narrative of King Saul, commanded by his deity to annihilate the Amalekites, men, women, children, and even animals. Saul questioned not the morality of genocide, but rather the practicality of destroying valuable livestock. Whether historically factual or purely allegorical matters little; the critical point remains that someone wrote, and others embraced, a narrative justifying wholesale extermination without moral hesitation.

Similarly, Egyptian rulers once commanded the slaughter of Hebrew infants to maintain dominance, while Hebrews later celebrated divine retribution that killed Egypt’s firstborn. Both groups, acting according to their perceived tribal interests, saw these actions as entirely justified. This underscores an unsettling truth: morality, historically, frequently boils down to tribal consensus rather than universal ethical standards.

From an evolutionary perspective, morality can be seen simply as a survival strategy. Humans evolved to form groups because pooling resources dramatically increased survival odds. Protecting and caring for one's tribe thus became evolutionarily advantageous. However, this altruism rarely extended beyond the tribe. Indeed, attacking external groups often furthered internal cohesion and ensured resource availability. Such behaviors weren’t driven by inherent moral standards but by practical survival calculations.

But what about seemingly altruistic behaviors toward outsiders, such as wartime medics treating enemy soldiers at personal risk? Even these instances often reflect cultural teachings rather than inherent moral instincts. Such behaviors can be viewed as conditioned responses, learned morality taught explicitly through societal institutions like education and religion. Had these medics received different teachings, their responses might well have differed dramatically.

Moreover, if morality were genuinely universal and absolute, one might expect far greater consistency across cultures and fewer deviations from moral behavior. Yet crime, exploitation, and injustice are pervasive across history and societies, emerging predictably when individuals or groups perceive an opportunity to escape repercussions.

Indeed, morality’s function becomes clearer when viewed through the lens of power and control. Throughout history, powerful entities have routinely manipulated moral frameworks to maintain dominance and social order. Institutions like slavery, justified by religious and moral claims until they became economically inconvenient, vividly illustrate morality’s malleability in the hands of the powerful.

Modern geopolitics reinforces this point. Powerful nations frequently employ moral justifications as cover for strategic self-interest. The careful restraint shown by powerful states today, avoiding overt aggression unless confident of minimal consequences, highlights morality as essentially pragmatic: a calculation of risks, benefits, and global optics.

History is littered with numerous examples supporting this view. Long before modern ideologies took shape, civilizations crafted moral systems that reflected the needs and preservation of their own tribes rather than any universal code of ethics.

Consider the Assyrian Empire, renowned not only for its territorial conquests but also for its systematic brutality. Assyrian kings proudly documented the torture, mutilation, and public display of defeated enemies, acts celebrated as divine justice and statecraft. In their context, cruelty was not immoral; it was efficient, god-ordained, and a tool for maintaining power. To them, morality served empire, not humanity.

Spartan society offers another telling example. From birth, children were evaluated for strength; the weak were discarded. The city-state institutionalized the killing of infants deemed unfit for war and trained boys from childhood to become elite soldiers with loyalty to Sparta above all else. Far from being condemned, this was considered virtuous, an essential function of preserving the strength and purity of the tribe. Compassion had no place in a moral system built entirely on survival and militaristic excellence.

In Carthage, archaeological and historical evidence strongly suggests that child sacrifice was practiced to appease the gods, especially in times of crisis. These weren’t fringe rituals, they were central to Carthaginian religious life. Sacrificing one's own child wasn’t a moral failing; it was an act of tribal duty, piety, and desperate reciprocity with divine powers. What appears horrific now was once sanctified.

Even in the intellectual cradle of democracy, classical Athens, morality was deeply stratified. While the Athenians championed freedom, equality, and civic virtue, these values applied almost exclusively to land-owning male citizens. Women, foreigners, and slaves were excluded from political life and legal protection. Slavery was considered natural, even rational. Philosophers like Aristotle argued that some people were born to be ruled. There was no ethical contradiction in practicing democracy while owning other human beings, because morality, even here, was designed to serve the in-group, not to uphold universal justice.

Consider the origins of Islam, where early Muslims justified the killing of unbelievers. Has this practice ceased because adherents discovered a previously invisible universal morality? Or simply because global structures and political contexts evolved, leading to the re-interpretation of their religious texts?

Similarly, the oppression of women persisted throughout history, only shifting when economic, social, or political structures changed. Even today, the oppression of women continues in some parts of the world, raising questions about its nature. Some women within these cultures argue they are not oppressed, while external observers, particularly from Western societies, claim otherwise. Are these Western observers inherently more moral, or merely shaped by different cultural frameworks? Individuals who leave oppressive cultures often support the notion of oppression, yet those who remain might genuinely embrace their societal norms. The fluidity and cultural specificity of such moral judgments underscore morality's contextual nature.

Likewise, slavery, universally practiced and accepted for millennia, was only condemned when it became economically disadvantageous or socially untenable. Did a sudden infusion of universal morality alter human conscience, or did shifting socio-economic dynamics simply make slavery obsolete?

The concept of free agency further highlights morality’s pragmatic nature. Even in democratic societies, freedom is often constrained in the name of national security or public safety, justifications strikingly similar to those used by authoritarian regimes. Governments frequently ban apps or censor information, arguing these measures protect the state or public welfare. Such actions reinforce that morality, even in its modern democratic guise, remains deeply pragmatic, rooted less in universal ethical principles and more in calculated interests of power and stability.

Thus, morality might best be understood not as universal truth, but as sophisticated social engineering, first developed by tribes to avoid internal collapse, and now evolving into a global phenomenon driven by interconnectedness and mutual dependencies. Yet even in this emerging global morality, tribal tendencies persist, continually undermining the notion of true universality.

In short, morality may never transcend its pragmatic, tribal roots entirely, remaining forever shaped by power dynamics, cultural contexts, and evolutionary imperatives, rather than any absolute ethical truths inherent in human nature.