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Summary
Summary
We have a strong instinct to belong to small groups defined by clear purpose and understanding--"tribes." This tribal connection has been largely lost in modern society, but regaining it may be the key to our psychological survival.
Decades before the American Revolution, Benjamin Franklin lamented that English settlers were constantly fleeing over to the Indians-but Indians almost never did the same. Tribal society has been exerting an almost gravitational pull on Westerners for hundreds of years, and the reason lies deep in our evolutionary past as a communal species. The most recent example of that attraction is combat veterans who come home to find themselves missing the incredibly intimate bonds of platoon life. The loss of closeness that comes at the end of deployment may explain the high rates of post-traumatic stress disorder suffered by military veterans today.
Combining history, psychology, and anthropology, Tribe explores what we can learn from tribal societies about loyalty, belonging, and the eternal human quest for meaning. It explains the irony that-for many veterans as well as civilians-war feels better than peace, adversity can turn out to be a blessing, and disasters are sometimes remembered more fondly than weddings or tropical vacations. Tribe explains why we are stronger when we come together, and how that can be achieved even in today's divided world.
Author Notes
Sebastian Junger was born in 1962 in Belmont, Massachusetts. He received his BA degree from Wesleyan University in Cultural Anthropology in 1984. He is a freelance journalist who writes for numerous magazines, including Outside, American Heritage, Men's Journal, and the New York Times Magazine. As an underemployed journalist who assigned himself stories and worked as a stringer for the Associated Press in Bosnia, Junger was fascinated by the dangers that people face regularly while doing ordinary jobs.
Junger was working as a climber for a tree removal service when the storm occurred that provided the inspiration for his first book. The Perfect Storm (1997) is a carefully researched account of the wreck of the swordfishing boat Andrea Gail, The wreck took place during what one meteorologist called a "perfect storm"--a storm with the worst possible conditions. In order to relate the story of a disaster that left no survivors and had no eyewitnesses, Junger used a combination of sound research, technical detail, and personal insight to reconstruct the final hours. After the publication of this book he was nicknamed the new Hemingway. In 2000, this book was made into a film starring George Clooney and Mark Wahlberg.
He wrote several books such as War which is about his time spent with a U.S. Army platoon in Afghanistan. At the Sundance Film Festival in 2010 his documentary Restrepo won Grand Jury Prize for a domestic documentary.
Junger's book, Tribe, made the New York Times Bestseller list in 2016.
(Bowker Author Biography)
Reviews (6)
Publisher's Weekly Review
Journalist Junger proffers a straightforward reading of his latest. He has a limited vocal range but a good narrator's voice, excellent pacing, clear diction, and just enough dramatic flair to engage listeners in his extended essay on the causes of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) suffered by so many veterans on their return from combat. His thesis is that war offers men and women conditions in which to make close friends, to feel an integral part of a community, and to feel there are always buddies to watch their backs. At home, in a nation of individualists, vets often feel they don't belong among those who haven't shared their experiences. Junger's sense of the significance and urgency of his conclusions manifests in his heartfelt narration. A Twelve hardcover. (May) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Booklist Review
Prominent journalist Junger (War, 2010) examines a number of modern institutions to assess their roles in leading people to make individualistic choices rather than acting out the feeling of being competent, necessary members of a tribe or community. Humans now end up feeling isolated and alone, he believes, starting early in life. Unlike hunter-gatherer moms, who stayed close to their babies day and night, mothers are now often away from their infants, who sleep alone. He also observes that people are wired to help each other and risk their lives for complete strangers, but police and fire departments largely eliminate that need. Junger continues his long investigation into war, noting that although it inspires ancient human virtues of courage, loyalty and selflessness, it also does harm, including post-traumatic-stress disorder. He observes, Instead of being able to work and contribute to society a highly therapeutic thing to do a large percentage of veterans are just offered lifelong disability payments. Junger uses every word in this slim volume to make a passionate, compelling case for a more egalitarian society.--Springen, Karen Copyright 2016 Booklist
New York Review of Books Review
SEBASTIAN JUNGER CO-DIRECTED two documentary films, "Restrepo" and "Korengal," about a platoon of American soldiers deployed to a tiny, utterly primitive and exceedingly dangerous outpost in Afghanistan's Korengal Valley. Both films were riveting meditations on the experience of war. Grinding boredom gives way to bowel-emptying fear, followed sometimes by episodes of nearly psychedelic blood lust and the frankly sexual pleasure of unleashing a .50-caliber machine gun on enemies who are doing the same to you. We see the calming routines of mending one's kit in the interludes; the improvised forms of social authority that emerge in a place far beyond the reach of law; the rude affection and deep love among brothers in arms. Both films have a timeless quality to them, surely because of Junger's tact as a journalist and his fundamental sympathy with his subjects. What the films depict is not the high-tech warfare of remote control that affirms our clean self-image, but the recalcitrant realities of killing. We see the joys and depravities of a cell of men released from the neutering moral regulation of American society. That society has a mission for them to do, but it cannot avow the means by which it is to be accomplished and must avert its gaze from the appalling maleness of it all. How do you return home from such an experience? This is the question Junger asks in "Tribe," which has the subtitle "On Homecoming and Belonging." In a pre-modern tribe, Junger points out - or indeed a modern society such as Israel, in which the burden of defense is widely shared and never remote from the collective experience - war has a shared social meaning. But in a cosmopolitan society such as our own, far removed from the scene of battle, the human qualities demanded and cultivated by war are fundamentally at odds with our public principles. We think the "take care of your own" mentality of the tribe emanates from a different stage of human development, part of an us-versus-them mind-set that we pride ourselves on having left behind in the forward march of reason. What the French scholar Pierre Manent said of European enlightened opinion could be said of its American counterpart: We believe "we have become so universally human that we have no enemies." And yet we rain down more death around the world than just about anybody. A society with less false consciousness about these matters would reintegrate soldiers returning from battle by putting them to work. Doing so would tacitly affirm the continuity in their contribution to our common good. Instead, Junger points out, such is the misalignment of our culture and military service that someone who has fought is regarded as fundamentally damaged. The way we receive combat veterans returning home is by treating them as victims and putting them on disability. Victim status confers the only form of moral redemption we know, and we offer this freely - on the condition that a veteran submit to therapy. If the therapy is successful, he will come to accept the obsolescence of precisely those traits that made him a good fighter. With the help of a little medication they wither, like a limb that has been tied off to prevent an infection from spreading. Only then can the veteran hope to claim his prize, which is to become a well-adjusted consumer and cog in the corporate economy. Junger argues persuasively that post-combat psychological problems must be understood as a problem of reintegrating to society on such terms, at least as much as they are due to the trauma of war. Post-traumatic stress disorder is a medical term for a cultural problem: the basic impossibility of digesting the experience of combat as an isolated individual among other isolated individuals, each devoted to pursuing his or her private interests. There is no tribe. To risk one's life for the common good is to declare oneself outside this cultural logic of acquisitive individualism ; the veteran is an outsider to us by definition, and no amount of yellow ribbons can change that fact. In his platoon, he belonged. It is not so surprising, then, that many combat veterans miss the fellowship and say they would return to it if they could. The brief introduction to "Tribe" is a micro-masterpiece in which Junger sketches the discontent of bourgeois life. In the Boston suburb where he grew up, "neighbors hardly knew each other. And they didn't need to: Nothing ever happened in my town that required anything close to a collective effort." I expect Junger will be savaged by reviewers on two fronts, for reasons that derive as much from the moral one-upmanship of book reviewing as from his blind spots: It will be said that as an adventure-seeking journalist who doesn't have to live out the full consequences of his argument, he overemphasizes the psychological benefits of war and also romanticizes tribal people. This is fair enough, and a case could be made that he is guilty on both counts, despite his explicit awareness of both hazards. But to fixate on these transgressions would be to flatter our own prejudices and inoculate ourselves against the critical force of his argument. A more serious limitation of the book, in my view, derives from Junger's reliance on evolutionary psychology for his explanatory framework. The just-so stories that various professors have offered, after imagining what survival on the Pleistocene savannas might have required, cannot compete with the kind of material gathered by a journalist who is alive to the human drama unfolding before his eyes in a firefight. There are very few elements of human experience that can pass through the sieve of social-scientific explanation without coming out thin and watered down; one wishes Junger had favored his own ethnographic reporting over such explanation and included more of it. The book also sorely lacks any sustained attempt at intellectual history. The questions he is asking are in fact perennial questions of political philosophy, and they have a history that could have enriched the book immeasurably. The self-deceptions of contemporary society that Junger elaborates run too deep to be relieved by exhortations to "support our troops." The conclusion one reaches upon finishing "Tribe" is that we should bring back the draft and have universal, obligatory military service. It is hard to think of a public-policy reform that would do more to heal the growing chasm of social class, affirm our shared destiny as citizens and at the same time discipline our foreign policy. A nation of 320 million will never be a tribe, but if after such a reform we still have enthusiasm for putting "boots on the ground," those boots will belong to "us" rather than "them." MATTHEW B. CRAWFORD'S most recent book is "The World Beyond Your Head: On Becoming an Individual in an Age of Distraction."
Guardian Review
The author of The Perfect Storm investigates the trauma experienced by returning soldiers, and argues the main problem lies in the divisions and tensions of western society In 1753, Benjamin Franklin wrote to a friend about a curious phenomenon in the American west. White prisoners rescued from Native American tribes were seizing the first chance they could to flee into the wilderness and rejoin their captors. There were no reports of native warriors migrating in the opposite direction. Perplexed, Franklin concluded that the errant whites must have become "disgusted with our manner of life" despite being shown "all imaginable tenderness" on their return. The journalist Sebastian Junger first heard of these defections during conversations with a much-loved surrogate uncle while growing up in a Boston suburb. Decades later, the stories form the starting point for his quest to understand why American soldiers returning from Iraq and Afghanistan are experiencing such a debilitating epidemic of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). The result is Tribe, an electrifying tapestry of history, anthropology, psychology and memoir that punctures the stereotype of the veteran as a war-damaged victim in need of salvation. Rather than asking how we can save our returning servicemen and women, Junger challenges us to take a hard look in the mirror and ask whether we can save ourselves. The core of Junger's argument is that many of today's veterans owe their distress less to traumatic experiences during their deployments and more to the inevitable sense of alienation they experience on return. With its toxic politics, yawning rich-poor divide and racial tension, the US has strayed so far from the egalitarianism, self-sacrifice and solidarity that ensured the survival of our hominid ancestors that it now takes the extremes of war and disaster to spark such values back into life. "As awkward as it is to say," Junger writes, "part of the trauma of war seems to be giving it up." Even for a writer with such a storied career as a war reporter, to explore the virtues that conflict can galvanise -- rather than to dwell on its predictably tragic consequences -- is a brave path to tread. Yet Junger never romanticises bloodshed: the book is more a critique of the corrosive impact of unbridled individualism on the economy and politics of modern America than it is an ode to war. Tribe is a different sort of book from The Perfect Storm, Junger's reconstruction of a doomed fishing expedition adapted into a film starring George Clooney ; or War, his portrait of US soldiers at an outpost in Afghanistan, where he co-directed an Oscar-nominated documentary with his close friend Tim Hetherington, the acclaimed British photojournalist killed in Libya in 2011. This new book is an extended essay -- interspersed with brief but vivid flashes of personal recollection spanning formative years and family history as well as assignments in Bosnia, west Africa and Afghanistan. Its power lies in the breadth of detail Junger has marshalled and the quiet anger that fuels his prose. "Modern society has perfected the art of making people not feel necessary," he writes. "It's time for that to end." While he is by no means naive about the hardships and cruelties of archaic societies, he argues that the banding together that was an imperative for our forebears is integral to living well. Modernity, for all its technological miracles, has delivered some of the highest rates of depression, anxiety and loneliness in history. Members of the !Kung tribe in southern Africa would never have tolerated the equivalent of hoarding food -- the parallel Junger draws is with the obscene bonuses of Wall Street. Historical examples support his contention that crises rekindle an ancient, more organic way of relating to one another. During the London blitz, planners projected that up to 4 million civilians might have breakdowns -- in the event, psychiatric admissions fell and strangers formed self-organising communities in bomb shelters. In Northern Ireland, suicide rates dropped 50% during periods of riot. Similarly, the US witnessed a two-year hiatus in mass shootings after 9/11 -- with New York experiencing an immediate drop in rates of violent crime and psychiatric disturbance. "If war were purely and absolutely bad in every single aspect and toxic in all its effects, it would probably not happen as often as it does," Junger argues. "But in addition to all the destruction and loss of life, war also inspires ancient human virtues of courage, loyalty and self-sacrifice that can be utterly intoxicating to the people who experience them." It is the bonds forged in war that explain the counterintuitive nostalgia it evokes. Junger quotes Bosnian journalist Nidzara Ahmetasevic wistfully recalling the siege of Sarajevo. "The best way to explain it is that war makes you an animal," she says. "It's insane -- but that's the basic human instinct, to help another human being who is sitting or standing or lying close to you." Some psychotherapists fear that exploring PTSD primarily through a societal lens risks overlooking the significance of the visceral changes in body and brain that can affect survivors -- which is why trauma can be so hard to heal. Indeed, several US veterans have written strident critiques of Junger's analysis, questioning his claim that PTSD rates are at an historical high and accusing him of downplaying evidence linking combat exposure to suicide. In many ways, a degree of controversy over the data is inevitable: the research on military PTSD is so voluminous, complex and often contradictory that it can be parsed in many different ways. Tribe 's strength lies less in its statistical analysis, and more in its attempts to understand how culture may mediate an individual's experience of trauma -- and what that tells us about society as a whole. While studies suggest that almost 20% of US veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan have symptoms of PTSD or major depression, Junger believes that this figure does not square with the comparatively low casualty rates relative to previous wars, or the fact that only one in 10 veterans experiences actual combat. To put the American experience in perspective, he points out that the Israel Defense Forces have, by some measures, a PTSD rate as low as 1% despite decades of intermittent war. In Israel, where around half the population serves in the military, the "thank you for service" mantra breezily offered to American veterans would be as meaningless as thanking somebody for paying their taxes. Junger is clear-eyed about the prospects that the US will rediscover a sense of solidarity anytime soon -- suspecting that only a 1930s-style Depression or a catastrophic natural disaster might have the remotest chance of changing its fundamental economic logic. He reaches the bleak conclusion that the best way to attack his country would be to leave it alone -- it would implode into internecine strife without an external enemy. Despite its occasionally despairing tone, Tribe is a stirring clarion call for a return to solidarity. In advocating a public, shared confrontation with the psychic scars of war, Junger aims to stop trauma burning a hole through individual veterans. Such a collective catharsis might also be our best hope of healing the wounds modern society has inflicted on itself. - Matthew Green.
Kirkus Review
A short book with a solid argument about the downside of civilization's progress. The latest from Vanity Fair contributing editor Junger (War, 2010, etc.) mixes memoir, reportage, and historical research into a case for the advantages of the tribe and how connective, communal benefits are lost as society moves toward competition and individuality. The author begins with the early settlement of America, examining how colonists introduced to tribal life, or captured into it, might convert to it, but the process rarely worked the other way. "Indians almost never ran away to join white society," writes Junger. "Emigration always seemed to go from the civilized to the tribal, and it left Western thinkers flummoxed about how to explain such an apparent rejection of their society." The author then makes a leap in his argument that is as provocative as some will find it counterintuitive: how war and catastrophe seem to instill that tribal spirit that individuals have otherwise lost and how the stress of such times serves to improve mental health rather than threaten it. As jarring as conjecture about "the positive effects of war on mental health" might seem, Junger amasses plenty of academic and anecdotal support. From there, he makes another leap, to PTSD, asserting that its prevalence stems less from the traumas of battle than from the difficulties of rejoining a disjointed, divided society after collective tribal bonding. "The problem doesn't seem to be the trauma on the battlefield so much as reentry into society," he writes, showing how PTSD can affect returnees who have never experienced combat. The author resists the temptation to glorify war as the solution to a nation's mental ills and warns against the tendency "to romanticize Indian life," but he does succeed in showing "the complicated blessings of civilization,' " while issuing warnings about divisiveness and selfishness that should resonate in an election year. The themes implicit in the author's bestsellers are explicit in this slim yet illuminating volume. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Library Journal Review
For millennia, humans banded together in tribes that provided food, shelter, economic stability, and defense from enemies. Western society evolved away from close-knit clans as economies diversified and industry developed and basic needs could be met outside the tribe. Even in a contemporary culture that values individual expression and independent thinking, the concept of "tribe" speaks to our need to identify with others and to belong. Junger (The Perfect Storm) observes that soldiers experience the value of the tribe, in which their lives depend on their comrades, and their comrades depend on them. When military deployments end, many combat veterans are at a loss without that support system. Junger extends his study to people who must work together to survive after natural disasters or terrorist attacks. This is a short book and a thoughtful one. Junger reads his own work clearly and precisely. VERDICT A good choice for popular collections.-Nann Blaine Hilyard, Winthrop Harbor, IL © Copyright 2016. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Table of Contents
| Author's Note | p. ix |
| Introduction | p. xiii |
| The Men and the Dogs | p. 1 |
| War Makes You an Animal | p. 35 |
| In Bitter Safety I Awake | p. 71 |
| Calling Home from Mars | p. 104 |
| Postscript | p. 135 |
| Acknowledgments | p. 137 |
| Source Notes | p. 139 |
| About the Author | p. 169 |