The Age of Cultural Tribalism Has Begun

There was a time when everyone in school had watched the same episode of The Simpsons, and the latest movie dominated workplace conversations. Dave Chappelle's skits were universally quoted the next morning, and people shared the same games, sports, and humor. This pervasive commonality fostered a shared understanding of the world, creating a sense of collective experience that has since diminished.

In 1983, over 106 million Americans, nearly half the country, tuned in for the finale of MASH, an example of widespread cultural unity. Similarly, Ellen DeGeneres's star-studded Oscar selfie in 2014 felt like a peak of pop culture unity, though it may have been a final moment before its decline. This collective memory is now tainted by scandals, politics, and the slow fade of pop culture, marking the end of monoculture. The resulting lack of shared culture is now contributing to a societal crisis.

A 2007 study published in the journal Scandinavian Political Studies investigated the impact of social diversity and found a concerning trend: people, even those from similar cultural backgrounds, tended to "hunker down." This led to decreased trust, altruism, and community cooperation. The research suggests that the erosion of shared culture can lead to individuals drifting apart, undermining the very fabric that unites a society.

Modern society now experiences a "culture of choice," characterized by an endless array of shows and music, but this abundance of options paradoxically leads to an age of "zero commonality." The advent of AI, capable of creating any desired content on a whim, further accelerates this trend, eroding a broadly shared mythos. Historically, a collective "zeitgeist" or spirit of the times was believed to drive civilizations, but this unifying force is now being challenged by emerging cultural changes.

In contrast to the broadcast era, before cable and algorithms, only three or four channels aired content simultaneously, forcing shared viewing experiences.

Shows like Lost, Breaking Bad, Game of Thrones, and early Marvel movies provided common references, allowing conversations across diverse age groups, races, classes, and political affiliations. Historically, events like the ancient Greek games, which evolved into the Olympics, united city-states and fostered a shared identity. Although not perfect, and sometimes bland or simplified for mass appeal, this monoculture provided common ground and a shared set of stories that connected strangers.

The landscape irrevocably changed with the advent of cable, DVRs, streaming services, and especially smartphones and personalized algorithms. Individuals no longer needed to consume what everyone else was watching; they could access any content at any time. This shift was driven by platforms discovering the profitability of serving hyper-specific niches over broad appeal. The result is an unprecedented scale of cultural tribalism, further accelerated by digital nomadism, which detaches individuals from local communities and allows them to build identities around online tribes. We now reside within thousands of subcultures, each with distinct languages, aesthetics, heroes, rituals, and even adversaries.

No single story or narrative holds dominant sway in this fragmented cultural landscape. Instead, small influencers with as few as 50,000 dedicated followers now exert more cultural influence within their specific domains than traditional Hollywood studios or network television shows. The former ideological monopolists have lost their grip on widespread cultural narratives. This shift has also given rise to a new form of micro-fanaticism, characterized by intense obsession within specific cultural tribal camps. Online wars, fueled by "rage bait" and minor scandals, frequently erupt between these groups, signifying a deeply entrenched and polarized cultural environment.

Even fields and stadiums, once places that brought people together, have become ideological battlegrounds. Instances such as kneeling during the national anthem and increasingly politicized sports events exemplify this fragmentation. Founding stories, once held sacred, are now openly scrutinized and demonized in these very public spaces, further eroding shared national narratives.

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Hollywood and major video game studios have increasingly incorporated explicit agendas, prioritizing "forced checkboxes" and diversity quotas over organic storytelling. This includes pushing ESG (Environmental, Social, and Governance) points and forced political issues into narratives. With the US video game market alone encompassing around 212 million players, top game makers face criticism over race politics. Some major developers are succumbing to this pressure, leading to accusations such as Pokémon being colonialist or other leading games being compelled to feature inclusive characters and storylines. However, these efforts are often met with rejection from audiences.

Players are instead gravitating towards games from smaller, lesser-known independent studios, often referred to as 'indies,' which typically operate outside the mainstream hype. This shift suggests a positive fragmentation, breaking up large camps of control and allowing consumers to choose products that align with their preferences, rather than being dictated by larger entities. This trend raises questions about whether a solution might involve a return to honest news sources and entertainment systems genuinely focused on entertainment.

Storytellers, historically known as "firekeepers," bards, and mythmakers, have always shaped the values of their communities through folktales, legends, and fables. This collective body of shared narratives is referred to as the "mythos." Myths are not merely ancient fairy tales but are essential shared stories that define our understanding of heroes, villains, and how we navigate life's challenges. They address profound questions such as identity, purpose, and the nature of a good life. In a sense, pop culture once provided modern iterations of these ancient myths.

Even in pop culture, modern heroes like the Hulk emerged from figures like Hercules, and the wise sages of old were re-envisioned as the Jedi. Joseph Campbell, in his book "Myths to Live By," outlined four vital functions of myths. First, the mystical function evokes awe and wonder about the universe. Second, the cosmological function provides a framework for understanding how the world operates. Third, the sociological function validates and supports societal norms. Fourth, the pedagogical function guides individuals through life's various stages. Campbell believed that myths must evolve to remain relevant, as people are losing faith in the age of reason and imagination is fading in the era of smartphones and tablets. He argued that old interpretations lose their power, yet humanity still desperately needs new poetic and metaphorical frameworks to comprehend existence.

He believed that "fantasy remains a human right," emphasizing that humans create in a derivative mode because they are made in the image of a maker. This perspective highlights the inherent human need to construct narratives and imaginary worlds, reflecting a deeper creative impulse.

The old broadcast world provided a broad, overlapping mythos through mass media, offering cultural stories that resonated with nearly everyone. Shared heroes and reference points were common knowledge, fostering a collective narrative. Today, however, society is characterized by thousands of tiny, self-contained mythologies, with each fandom existing within its own isolated universe. This has led to the emergence of parallel cultural realities, where different groups speak distinct cultural languages and have their own heroes and villains. The societal shift has moved from a loose umbrella mythos that once held many micro-groups together to countless insulated cultural villages. Algorithms further supercharge this process of fragmentation.

Market incentives now prioritize deeper, niche engagement due to hyper-focused audiences. This raises a critical question: is this fragmentation the demise of social cohesion, or the dawn of something more authentic? While the old monoculture undeniably had drawbacks, such as conformity, exclusion, and shallowness, the current fragmentation has also empowered previously overlooked voices. It allows individuals to discover their true tribes, fulfilling a deep-seated human need for belonging that is as ancient as civilization itself. The question of whether a unifying mythos is profoundly necessary remains, yet the solution may not lie in forcing a single narrative.

Such stories should aim to recover a sense of wonder, offer genuine escape, and provide true consolation. Regardless of whether our heroes take the form of the Hulk, the Jedi, or whatever comes next, there remains a fundamental human need for unifying myths and heroic figures. This prompts reflection on whether the death of monoculture is a tragedy or an opportunity to forge new, more inclusive narratives.