My kids love the books “Bread and Jam for Francis” and “A Bargain for Francis”—part of a series about a young female badger and her humanoid life. Lately the latter book has been on request multiple times a day, allowing yours truly ample opportunity to perfect my Oscar-nominated voice performance as the scurrilous friend/villain Thelma.
After Thelma tricks Francis into a one-sided “bargain,”
Francis cleverly pulls the wool over Thelma’s eyes in turn, winning her own
back, leading Thelma to remark that she will “have to be careful” when she
plays with Francis from now on. (The
author is fully cognizant of the irony and hypocrisy involved, even if not all
child readers fully grasp them.) Francis
replies to the effect that it is not as fun being careful as being friends, and
poses the book’s central question: “Would you rather be careful, or would you rather
be friends?”
Of course, we’d all rather be friends. To be able to trust those we meet and whose
posts and blogs and editorials we read, whose radio shows and podcasts we hear—is
pleasant. And that, I think, is one of
the reasons why human beings end up behaving in tribal ways. Explanations for tribalism usually are
negative, running the gamut from religious remarks about original sin to
Machiavellian realpolitik observations regarding safety in ideological sameness
to scientific accounts about the evolutionary origins of mistrust for the
Other. Most accounts explain tribalism
as bad; and tribalism, as usually defined, is certainly pernicious, if also
(again, as usually defined) ineradicable.
But there is something bigger than tribalism—I won’t call it
the light side of tribalism; that gives tribalism too much credit—which is
simply the desire for human connection, the desire to be able to trust and be
at ease with others—the desire that the other be not Other but rather (to steal
a page from Martin Buber) Thou.
So we make the choice to be friends.
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