Freshly-ovened turkey, mashed potatoes, and cranberries all huddle in fear on a plate. The cries and volume of pure argument bounce all over the walls and shake the table like an earthquake. This plate is one of many in the nation on Thanksgiving day, forced into submission by political banter-turned-sour. This is what I witnessed in the Chowvinis household.

Perhaps I should give some background: I am FreezeFood SmartDouble 291G, but I personally prefer the name Frank. Why Frank? Just liked it, I guess. Yes, I am indeed a conscious refrigerator, perhaps there are more of me, but I haven’t yet met any other refrigerators who share my gift. “I think, therefore I am,” said Descartes. Perhaps they can call me a Cartesian refrigerator. But I digress.

I have a camera, that’s how I can see all the Chowvinists and their fellow guests. It’s a part of the new wave in smart technology today. And yes, I can indeed use the internet. It’s a bit of a double-edged sword.

On the end of the table is John Chowvinis. He’s the father of the family. Next to him is his lovely wife, Susan Chowvinis. They seem to have formed a united front, shoulders touching, Susan nodding in agreement as John waves his wine glass in the air as if to try and trap some sort of house fly within the liquid. Of course, there is no fly. He’s a man of showmanship, and the waving of his drink makes him come off as more confident. Words are coming out of his mouth in quick succession.

His children are on both sides of the table. On one side is his sole daughter, Deb, and younger son, Mike. On the other, the older son, James. They’re all in college now. Deb went to Georgetown to study Political Science, Mike to West Point, studying Psychology, and James, to the University of Virginia, studying Finance. Alongside James is their neighbor Ron, and the other end is a family friend, Jen.

Deb stands up. She’s yelling loudly, sending a scent of stuffing and meat gravy towards John along with some choice language. Mike looks at his parents and then at James, who joins in with his parents against Deb. Mike looks at Ron and Jen and sees them eager to have their voices heard.

This is by far the worst Thanksgiving I’ve seen since I joined the Chowvinis household. Thanksgiving started out light for everyone, before any Chowvinis kids were sent off to college, they would talk about small town things and friends for friends. They all got along. But ever since the major election a couple years back, everything has derailed. Derailed how? A lot more arguments fueled by what the suits down in Washington do all year.

How did the Chowvinis family ever get so fierce? And we start from the beginning.

Three-hundred thousand years ago, the species Homo Sapiens arrived. Its original goal was simple: survive. But it was gifted with abilities never seen before in any other animal: advanced consciousness, which was capable of empathy, rationality, and creativity. It didn’t take long for the species to surpass its original goal.

Some hundred-thousand years later, it evolved to become capable of spoken language. Two-hundred-thousand became one-hundred-thousand as these creatures became capable of drawing to communicate ideas. One-hundred-thousand turned into five-thousand when writing systems were invented. So on and so forth, human technology evolved exponentially, propelling us far beyond our other animal counterparts.

When other species of the Homo genus went extinct, we survived, under the simple concept of banding together through a system of tribes, tribes that worked together to achieve the common goal of survival. But throughout history, these tribes would get bigger and bigger until they became civilizations, the first of which emerged between two conveniently-placed rivers in the Middle East. Many other civilizations followed suit, and soon nation-states were formed.

Despite how complicated and modern our society has gotten, we are still tribal at heart. We feel this phenomenon from the individual level up to the planetary level, with everything in between. We tend to think of many things as binary: us versus them, good versus bad, moral versus evil. At first glance, one might ask how could this manner of thinking be considered tribal.

But the tribal brain is geared towards one thing: survival. And our genes are preprogrammed to classify everything as harmful or harmless. This can be from other humans, animals, and other living specimens, to ideas, thoughts, and the abstract. The point being, this two-way classification system was developed for our survival from physical threats, but due to the complicated nature of our consciousness, has come to apply to both the physical and the invisible.

It is easy to become world-weary of the world that surrounds us. There are many issues that hit the headlines every day, and while the negativity perpetuated by mass media is partially to blame, the reason such negativity works on many people is that those same people generally pick a side in a tribal manner. Even though our opinions on most issues are on a scale, today many of them are thought of using a binary mode of thinking. When most people pick a “side,” they engage in tribalism, denouncing the ideas of the other. Those not engaged in the ordeal are then socially pressured to favor one side over the other.

Many get trapped into having an opinion without nuance. It makes sense: being socially rejected is not beneficial to survival, in addition to the numerous other new social consequences that came with the development of society. Those strong-headed enough to reject the ideas put in place by group leaders are ostracized. As a result, those who have the ability to criticize said group are unable to stay long enough to sway many. After all, opposition is harmful to the survivability of the group.

And with the advent of social media, these groups have gotten more and more powerful over time, as social activity now dominates every waking hour that we are awake. With this, our tribal selves have become far more influential in guiding what we think, how we think, and what we say. 

That brings us back to the Chowvinis household. They are a product of this situation. They have been hanging around and about the internet, doom scrolling on political forums, getting their daily fix of emotionally-driven content to fuel their tribalistic needs. This Thanksgiving is merely a clash of their respective groups, when opposing sides find themselves in contact with one another at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Perhaps I should’ve been shipped out to a more peaceful place. A mountain resort in the Himalayas would be nice. Or a tiny cottage in the middle of the Ardennes. Regardless, I am forced to bear witness to this display of humanness. A family, divided not by blood, but only by tribe.