Turkey, Tech, and Tribes: The Thanksgiving Thought Spiral

Thanksgiving always begins the same way for me: with an existential crisis in the mashed potatoes. While everyone else is busy debating whether we need marshmallows on the sweet potatoes (we don’t), my mind veers off to something much bigger: were humans better off as tribal hunter-gatherers, or is this techno-tribal experiment—where we rely on Amazon, Wi-Fi, and Instacart for survival—actually working?

At first glance, it seems absurd to even ask. After all, here we are, sitting in a heated dining room, carving a bird we didn’t have to chase through the woods. I’m not exactly nostalgic for the days of digging up roots and praying a saber-tooth tiger doesn’t decide to make me its Thanksgiving feast. But then I look at my family—half of whom are glued to their phones while Grandpa passive-aggressively comments on the store-bought cranberry sauce—and I wonder: have we really progressed, or have we just traded one type of chaos for another?

When we were tribal, things were simple. You stuck with your people, defended your patch of dirt, and had a deep, unshakable connection to the natural world because, well, you didn’t have a choice. There was no debating whether the new iPhone was worth the upgrade; the only upgrade you worried about was sharpening your spear. Relationships were about survival, not awkward small talk at Thanksgiving dinner about whether Cousin Becky’s MLM essential oil business is “legit.”

But in those tribes, you knew your place. You had a role—hunter, gatherer, storyteller, fire tender—and your survival depended on how well everyone did their job. The tribe was everything. Sure, you probably died at 35 from an infected splinter, but at least you weren’t spending your life obsessively curating your LinkedIn profile. There’s something comforting about that level of simplicity, even if it came with fleas.

Now? We’ve swapped out the saber-tooth tigers for cyber-attacks, and the spears for smartphones. Our “tribe” has exploded into a global web of people we’ll never meet, but whose opinions can ruin our day in a heartbeat. Instead of sitting around a fire sharing stories, we gather around a Netflix algorithm, scrolling endlessly until we fall asleep in a pit of existential despair. Is this progress, or just high-tech loneliness?

And yet, Thanksgiving gives me a glimmer of hope. Because despite the digital noise, this holiday still taps into something primal, something tribal. The rituals may have changed—we no longer paint our faces with ochre or hunt our dinner in the forest—but the essence is the same. Thanksgiving is about gathering, about feeding each other, about creating a moment of shared humanity amid the chaos. Whether it’s passing the stuffing or arguing about politics, we’re still trying to connect, however messily.

This makes me wonder if humanity can pull off the ultimate experiment: merging the best of the tribal past with the technology of the future. Can we use our gadgets not to isolate ourselves, but to build better tribes? Can the group chats, Zoom calls, and social media feeds actually strengthen our bonds, instead of making us all feel like we’re yelling into a void? Could we one day create a techno-tribe that feels as real and grounding as sitting around a fire with people who’d risk their lives to save you from a woolly mammoth?

I think we can. But it’s going to take effort. We have to actively choose connection over convenience, people over pixels. We have to figure out how to use technology to support our humanity, not replace it. It’s the difference between texting “Happy Thanksgiving” to 37 people and actually calling your mom to hear her voice. It’s the difference between Instagramming a perfect pumpkin pie and sharing a messy, laughter-filled kitchen with your chosen tribe.

The truth is, the old tribes had something we desperately need today: interdependence. You couldn’t survive alone, and you knew it. You didn’t pretend you were self-made or invincible. But in our modern world, we like to think we’re independent. We order groceries, stream entertainment, and even “connect” with friends without ever leaving our homes. The irony, of course, is that we’re lonelier than ever. We’ve forgotten that the greatest strength of a tribe is the tribe itself—not the tools they use, but the bonds they share.

So maybe the key isn’t to go back to being hunter-gatherers (because let’s be honest, I would last approximately 12 minutes in the wild). Maybe the key is to reimagine the tribe for the modern world. A tribe where we use technology to deepen relationships, not distract from them. Where we prioritize real connection over superficial convenience. Where Thanksgiving isn’t just a ritual of overindulgence, but a reminder of what it means to belong.

As I sit at the table, watching my family argue over whether the turkey’s dry and who’s taking the leftovers, I realize something: this is my tribe. Imperfect, chaotic, and occasionally infuriating, but mine. And maybe that’s the answer. Not to reject technology, but to make it work for us. To let it help us be tribal again, in the best sense of the word. To build a techno-tribal future where we don’t just survive, but thrive.

So here’s to Thanksgiving: the one day a year where we get a little glimpse of what that could look like. Now pass the stuffing—my techno-tribe is hungry.