Are You the "In-Group" or the "Out-Group"?

I had been in the forest for about 15 minutes and I was already sweating. Every snap of a twig snapped me to attention, freezing me in my tracks. I pushed my back deeper against a protective tree, trying as hard as I could to look like a bush and blend into the forest.

My brother-in-law had invited me to a paint-balling competition. It was part of a community afternoon, run by their very contemporary leadership. My brother-in-law and I are close but can compete like, well brothers-in-law. It was going to be fun to play on the same team, defending each other while we raced to capture the opponent’s flag. The excitement of the hunt soon took me over.

My two sons and I gathered to meet him and his three sons at a veritable mansion. The manicured back yard was carved out of an immense forest, ringed by a brick wall. A path from the house led to a small gate through which I could see another slightly wider path leading deeper into the woods. That’s where the hunt would be.

My brother-in-law introduced me to our hosts who led us to an armory where we selected our guns, our masks, our jackets, and our paint-balls. Our red paint-balls.

The goal of paintball is to capture your enemy's flag while protecting your own. The rules are pretty basic: shoot someone else before you get shot. Splatter them with your color of paint, and they have to sit out until the next round.

At first it seemed a little silly, with a hint of primitive. My PFC kicked in and I wondered how had my wife talked me into this? And then I saw that my brother-in-law and his kids were not picking red paint balls. They were picking yellow paint balls.

Deep from my limbic system I felt a set of reins like tentacles reel out and harness my PFC. My two sons and I were about to take on their uncle and his three sons. I felt a visceral surge of adrenal and arginine vasopressin. I began to develop a plan how to outsmart and fully douse my three nephews and their dad in red paint.

But now I was sweating, leaning into a tree so hard I was trying to get under its bark, stop, hide, look, listen, and try to snipe a hit. Without being sniped myself. My sons and I had spread out, penetrating my brother-in-law’s territory, a sprint away from grabbing the yellow flag under the nose of his very defenses.

I was pinned down and under attack. He guarded his flag with a ferocity I had not seen since we played Risk two weeks before. (He lost.) I narrowly dodged a flying yellow orb when out of the bushes to my left charged one of my sons, his red lightning firing at will towards a patch of saplings behind my protective tree. From another cluster of bushes on my right raced my other boy, firing his sunset red orbs towards the same place as his brother’s.

And then a sound of pain, not critical, but enough to know a hit had been made. From out of the clump of trees stumbled my brother-in-law, his camouflage flak jacket soaking with red paint. I jumped out from behind my tree in triumph, when my kids both shouted “NOOOOO DAD!!!!” as I felt a stinging like a barrage of bees pummel my arms and chest. As I saw the yellow paint bleeding off my clothing my sons threw themselves on the ground, and began crawling towards a protective covering, firing their guns at a newly rustling bush.

My brother-in-law grinned as one of my boys was doused in yellow even as the other made it to shelter. Yellow paint balls were flying from three other directions, a triangle of terror targeting my lone surviving teammate who valiantly fired back and forth at the approaching torrent. He was on his own, no one had his back. And as I realized this I shouted a warning that someone was approaching him from behind. He turned and fired, but as he did so, a barrage of yellow paint-balls blasted him from another point of the triangle and this round was over. I had been lured into the open in my own rush of conquest, even as my brother-in-law and his three boys sprung the trap they had laid for my two boys and me.

I watched in anguish as his boys casually strolled over to our fort and plucked our red flag. Then a different feeling: anger, revenge! Another surge of adrenaline and arginine vasopressin. I knew my boys were feeling it too by the look in their eyes. We shared a deep compulsion to defend and avenge. We gathered together, the three of us smelling like a can of paint, yellow paint, and began to plan our next attack.

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I think it's worth knowing some of the brain science behind this paintball mentality. Why were any of us willing to sacrifice ourselves to a yellow paint ball to defend our red flag? The answer is an ancient brain chemical, arginine vasopressin (AVP), which bound our red paint-ball “in-group” even tighter together when we felt threatened by that yellow paint-ball “out group”.

Vasopressin makes it easier for individuals in one group to become aggressive towards members of another group [1], as they celebrate the joy and relief of defeating an enemy. My brother-in-law and his sons were being flooded by AVP as they whooped in victory. He and his sons and I and mine were like the men who had taken an intranasal blast of vasopressin and became more willing to cooperate, take risks, and even sacrifice themselves for members of their group. [2]

We may be up against some pretty powerful biology right now in the USA. This AVP- induced behavior has been around for hundreds of millions of years, activating defensive, aggressive, and territorial behaviors to protect a threat to one's group. That was happening as much in my paintball war as what is going on right now in the USA and the rest of the world.

With AVP involved we are up against not just a moral issue: it is a biological issue. In our modern world it may get us in a lot of trouble, especially if violence is contagious. [3] When we lived in a world of limited resources this brain-tool for survival clearly was of help. Entire armies have been created in an AVP-frenzy to defend. AVP is involved in aggression, war, and is found in the victims of bullying [4].

There is nothing wrong with being part of a group. We all crave it, and when we are in it we simply feel calmer because we feel safer. As a species we come from a wild place full of struggle. Forming groups helped us survive. Since November 8th, 2016, those groups seem more polarized than ever. Our vasopressin may be going through the roof. But now that we know about it, we can do something. We don’t have to be ruled by our past. We can learn from it.

It’s an I-M thing.

Source: Joseph Shrand The I-M Approach