Tribalism, Identity, and Penn State

Like many people, I have been following the national discussion about Penn State and its apparent cover up of the alleged sexual violence waged on young boys by former football coach Jerry Sandusky.

I have to admit that I learned about the full details accidently when I read New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd's column, "Personal Foul at Penn State."

Damn. (Excuse my language.) I mean if these allegations are true, Sandusky is lucky I am not a potential juror--this man is a monster.

I have to admit that I didn't really want to know the details. Between the accusations of sexual harassment against Republican presidential candidate Herman Cain and the "molestation" charges against Sandusky, I was in no mood to read or to hear about more salacious details than was necessary.

But, my first instincts were wrong. The "devil" truly is in the details--pun intended. Beyond the report issued by the Grand Jury, the details reach much farther than Sandusky and Penn State. This case speaks to us as a nation and it challenges the excessive partisanship that has left us fractured as a country.

At the center of this whole situation sits the pernicious effect of tribalism and its perverse impact on identity and behavior.

The fact that an adult--a grown man and a football coach--could trample on the innocence of young boys should not come as a surprise to us. But somehow the scale and the visciousness of Sandusky's alleged actions surprised us. We were surprised by his actions. We were surprised by the reactions of others when they became aware of his lurid behaviors. We were surprised that football seemed to be more important than the lives of disadvantaged children, many of whom where poor and black.

We were surprised because it reinforces our desire for outrage. As a society, we long for the days when right was right and wrong was wrong. From the Tea Party movement to Occupy Wall Street, Americans are outraged by the lack of outrage.

This story illustrates how tribalism has refashioned American society. In the case of what transpired at Penn State, I have been following the sense of outrage directed at Mike McQueary, the Penn State football coach who was among the first to reportedly witness Sandusky's transgressions. Television commentators like Anderson Cooper of CNN have expressed understandable consternation and dismay at McQueary's action...or inaction as some might describe it. McQueary, a then graduate assistant coach who witnessed the rape of a boy by Sandusky in the Penn State locker room years ago, chose what seemed to be the easy way out.

We wanted him to tell the police. We wanted him to intervene directly and to stop the rape. We wanted him to beat the hell out of Jerry Sandusky. But McQueary didn't do any of this, and we are saddened and embittered by what seems to be his lack of outrage.

In a time where we long for moral actors, we want outrage. We don't understand how McQueary, Paterno, and others were not outraged by what they were seeing and hearing.

I think I understand where the outrage went. I can't condone it, but for those of you who don't understand it, let me try to explain. For, in the explanation, the lessons become personal.

We all belong to tribes--those exclusive social groups that give us meaning and define our position in society. The firms on Wall Street are tribes. There are schools, sports teams, fraternities, sororities, mom's clubs, faith-based groups, and all of the other "tribes" that compete for our attention. Individuals will go to great lengths to protect the identity they have carefully constructed for themselves. When that identity is neither safe nor high enough on the social hierarchy, self-preservation often trumps moral action--especially if such action threatens one's social standing in the tribe.

Acting morally is often informed by one's association, and our associations shape our identity. We may not like this or want it to be true, but it is. Identities are socially constructed. They are embedded in tribes. We gain our sense of self by who we choose to associate with and who chooses to associate with us.

This is what I think most people seem to be struggling to process. Columnist and political commentator David Brooks recently referred to it on NBC's Meet the Press as our lack of clarity about evil. (I'm paraphrasing here.) But it's not that we don't see or recognize evil. We are less afraid of evil, and more afraid of losing our social standing in our communities. We want so badly to belong that we end up losing our sense of self as something that stands apart from the tribes to which we belong.

When you consider the actions of Joe Paterno, Mike McQueary, and others at Penn State through the lens of an elite and exclusive tribe their actions make sense. They may not make us feel good about ourselves, but they explain the shock and awe that has spread throughout the nation as the story continues to unfold.

For millions of people around the world, routing for a favorite sports team is an act of tribalism. From the notorious football hooligans in the United Kingdom to the students who paint their bodies and their faces in school colors before every home football game in America, sports bring out a tribal nature.

Belonging to Joe Paterno's tribe may not be held in high regard by you, but it was held in high regard by others. What angers us is that Paterno and McQueary let their connection to their tribe at Penn State overshadow their moral outrage for those boys who were obviously not part of the tribe.

Your tribe is not my tribe and my tribe is not your tribe. That's the problem.

When we start making choices and engaging in behaviors that preserve our standing in our own small, isolated tribes we lose sight of what it means to share an identity that transcends school affiliation, race, class, or even religious background.

The scandal at Penn State reminds us that we spend far too much time looking for ways to protect our standing in the tribe when we should be spending more time looking for opportunities to expand the tribe so that it is inclusive and elevates the worth and dignity of others. Tribalism, when restrictive, cultivates a narrow conception of morality and shrinks the world in ways that make it easy to avert your eyes when you see something that threatens your social position in your group.  

We don't like foreigners because they aren't part of our tribe. We avert our eyes when Muslims are profiled because they aren't part of our tribe. We make deals with dictators and despots because they protect our privileged position on the world's stage.
 
The question we need to be resolving is this: Where did our collective outrage go?

My answer is that the outrage lies just below the surface. It has been concealed by our tribal affiliations, but I still believe it is there if we just attend to it.

Aristotle once wrote, "character is that which reveals moral purpose, exposing the class of things a man chooses or avoids." What you choose to attend to is a testament to your character. Our lives represent the best testimony to our character and to our moral beliefs. Don't let your tribal affiliations extinguish your connection to humanity.

We all wish Paterno and his buddies at Penn State had chosen to attend to the violated lives of those young boys who were harmed by Sandusky. I wish the Penn State students who rioted that first night had remembered that their allegiance ought not to be Joe Pa but to a much bigger sense of community.

Tribes come and go. But you only have one life.

Let your life be a witness to your character.