The New Tribalism of Sindh
Feature Article | Sindh, Society and Civic Life
“ Modern education, urban growth and digital technology do not automatically dissolve inherited loyalties. When clan or caste identity overrides individual conscience, public law and equal citizenship, old hierarchies can return in modern forms. ”
For a long time, we have been deceiving ourselves with the comforting illusion that the spread of education, rapid urbanisation and the inevitable adoption of modern technology would uproot and eradicate tribal feuds, brutal honour killings, the system of pagh mursi (the assertion of dominance and authority through traditional tribal customs), and the deeply entrenched practices of caste and clan discrimination from our society.
Yet, the greatest and most profound psychological crisis facing Sindh today is that the old barbarism has re-emerged in a new, more complex and dangerous form, disguised in the clothing of modernity. We can call this phenomenon “Neo-Tribalism.”
Instead of developing an independent, autonomous and progressive urban consciousness, the new generation, armed with advanced university degrees and living in cities, is dividing itself into “digital tribes” and caste-based organisations. Our cities have expanded geographically and filled with concrete buildings, but they have utterly failed to remove the rural, feudal and tribal mentality from within the human mind.
The “hyperreality” described by the French philosopher Jean Baudrillard has become the bitterest truth of our urban life today. On the one hand, we have smartphones, social media, algorithms and modern corporate jobs; on the other, these very tools of modernity are being used to fuel tribal rivalries, promote caste and clan interests, and flaunt the supposed superiority of one’s bloodline.
When an educated young person holding a prestigious position abandons their urban and universal identity and seeks refuge solely in the crowd belonging to their caste or tribe, the collective consciousness and moral foundation of society begin to die.
This new tribalism robs human beings of their fundamental capacity to exist as independent individuals. People no longer think on the basis of reason and conscience; instead, they view the world through the lens of their tribe’s collective prejudices and resentments. As a result, their sense of justice, fairness and truth gradually disappears.
The most horrifying aspect of this new urban barbarism is that, unlike in the past, it is no longer confined to unpaved rural roads or forests, where people fought with sticks and weapons.
Today, it is being waged in university hostels, educational institutions, government offices and across social media walls. When an educated mind considers a criminal, bandit or antisocial individual from its own tribe to be innocent, or conceals their crimes, simply because that person belongs to the same caste or clan, education is reduced to a mere material qualification rather than becoming a source of intellectual and spiritual enlightenment.
This condition transforms society into a merciless jungle where law, morality and human values have no worth.
Unless we stop viewing cities merely as clusters of people and buildings and begin transforming them into centres that foster progressive, democratic and civic consciousness, we will never free ourselves from the chains of this new barbarism rising from within us. Our education will remain nothing more than a modern weapon in the hands of our own ignorance.
Originally written in Sindhi by Oshaque Ali Buledi and translated into English by Sajida Arain. The commentary below is a separate contextual analysis added after the translated article.
Extended commentary
From Kinship to Digital Factionalism: The Roots of Neo-Tribalism
A historical and comparative examination of group loyalty, caste, honour, institutions and the work of building equal citizenship.
The term “neo-tribalism” in Buledi’s essay is best read as an analytical label for a modern pattern: older forms of kinship loyalty and inherited rank are being carried into universities, professional workplaces, political networks and digital platforms. It is not a universally standardised scientific diagnosis, and it should not be used to describe every tribal, caste, clan or ethnic community. The central question is not whether people have group identities. It is what happens when loyalty to a group is allowed to overrule evidence, conscience, equal rights and public law.
1. The old roots: kinship, protection and authority
Kinship groups have played important roles in many societies. Where formal institutions were weak or distant, a family, clan, lineage or tribe could provide protection, mutual aid, access to land, help in a dispute and a sense of belonging. These functions were not inherently abusive. In many places, kin networks helped people survive when state services were absent or unreliable.
The problem begins when solidarity becomes a claim to privilege: when a person is protected from accountability because of ancestry, when outsiders are treated as less deserving, or when a group leader claims authority over matters that belong to individuals and the courts. In such circumstances, the group can become an alternative system of power. It may demand loyalty from its members while offering unequal protection to others.
These arrangements developed differently across regions. In parts of the Middle East and North Africa, lineage and tribal affiliation could shape alliances, dispute settlement and political authority. In South Asia, kinship and caste systems became entangled in marriage, occupation, landholding and access to social status, though caste and tribe are not interchangeable categories. In parts of Europe, aristocratic lineage and patronage preserved inherited privilege long after urban life and formal education had expanded. In many societies, local powerholders have used family ties to influence public office, property, policing or access to resources.
It would be misleading to imagine a single worldwide system called “tribalism.” Anthropologists have criticised the term when it treats diverse communities as timeless, isolated or naturally violent. Social identities are shaped by history, economics, state policy and political competition. They can provide mutual care, cultural continuity and collective action; they can also be used to organise exclusion. The task is to distinguish the value of belonging from the abuse of group power.
“Our person” is defended even when evidence shows wrongdoing.
Birth or lineage is treated as proof of superiority or entitlement.
Custom or influence is used to evade rules that should apply to everyone.
2. How old hierarchies survived modernisation
Education, urbanisation and technology change people’s opportunities, but they do not automatically change the distribution of power. A university degree may improve a person’s career while leaving family expectations, marriage rules, inherited status and political patronage untouched. A person can learn scientific methods in a classroom and still rely on group loyalty when a relative, colleague or clan member is accused of wrongdoing.
Modern institutions can even give older hierarchies new resources. A well-connected family may use professional credentials, media access, party networks or digital platforms to amplify its influence. A caste or clan organisation can move from a village meeting to a city association, student group or online network without changing its underlying demand for preferential treatment. Modernity supplies new channels; it does not guarantee new values.
Colonial administrations also reshaped social identities in many regions. Officials often classified populations into administrative categories, documented customary authority and worked through selected local intermediaries. These policies did not invent every clan or caste, but they could harden flexible identities into official labels and link them to recruitment, taxation, land administration or political representation. After independence, some states retained these categories because they remained useful for administration and electoral mobilisation. The legacy varies from place to place and should be established through local history rather than assumed in advance.
Digital platforms add a further layer. Their systems often reward emotionally charged content, repeated slogans, public displays of loyalty and conflict between opposing groups. A user may receive approval for defending a group member before the facts are known, while a careful correction attracts little attention. The result can resemble a public performance of belonging: identity is declared, displayed and defended before an audience.
Baudrillard’s idea of “hyperreality” offers one possible lens for this behaviour, though it should not be treated as a complete explanation. Online symbols, edited clips, rumours and group narratives can become more influential than the underlying events they claim to represent. A social-media campaign may present a clan as uniformly noble or a rival as inherently dangerous. Repetition then makes the representation seem self-evident, even when it rests on selective evidence or falsehoods.
3. The shared pattern across world cultures
There are meaningful similarities between caste exclusion, ethnic nationalism, racial hierarchy, sectarian partisanship and clan-based patronage. Each can draw a moral boundary between “us” and “them.” Each may turn an inherited or socially assigned identity into a shortcut for judging character. Each can create pressure to defend an in-group and distrust outsiders. Research on social identity and intergroup behaviour suggests that such biases are not confined to one political tradition or one part of the world; they can emerge in many kinds of group.
Yet these phenomena are not identical. Caste is often associated with inherited status and social rules governing marriage, occupation and interaction. Ethnic nationalism concerns membership in a nation or people and may be tied to language, territory and state power. Racism ranks people through racial categories. Clan patronage allocates protection or opportunity through kinship. Honour-based violence is a form of coercion and gendered control, often justified by claims about family reputation or community standing. They can overlap, but careful analysis should not collapse them into one concept.
Honour-based violence has been documented in different countries and diasporas, including parts of South Asia, the Middle East and Europe. It is not an inherent feature of any religion or ethnicity. Its persistence is linked to gender inequality, control over women’s choices, family reputation, social surveillance, economic dependence and failures of protection or prosecution. The label “honour” describes the justification offered by perpetrators; it does not make the violence honourable.
The comparison matters because it shows that Sindh is not confronting a uniquely local human weakness. Nor does that mean the region’s particular histories can be ignored. The useful comparison is between mechanisms: who benefits from group loyalty, who is silenced by it, how public institutions respond, and whether individuals can safely refuse a demand made in the name of family or community.
4. What other countries have changed—and what remains unresolved
No country has completely eliminated inherited hierarchy, group prejudice or violence carried out in the name of community honour. International comparisons are most useful when they identify reforms that have changed incentives and protections, while acknowledging that laws and public declarations do not end discrimination by themselves.
Nepal and India: making caste discrimination unlawful
Nepal’s Constitution prohibits discrimination on grounds including caste and tribe, and expressly protects people against untouchability and caste-based discrimination in public and private settings. Nepal also enacted the Caste-Based Discrimination and Untouchability (Offence and Punishment) Act in 2011. India’s Constitution prohibits caste discrimination and untouchability, and the country has adopted additional laws and affirmative measures intended to address historical exclusion.
These measures matter because they establish that inherited rank is not a legitimate reason to deny public access, employment, services or dignity. They also provide a legal basis for complaints and public accountability. But caste discrimination has not disappeared in either country. Enforcement, social pressure, unequal access to resources, barriers to reporting and the risks faced by complainants continue to matter. The lesson is not that legislation alone solved the problem; it is that discrimination must be named as a public wrong rather than left entirely to local custom.
South Africa: a constitutional break with racial hierarchy
After apartheid, South Africa adopted a constitutional order grounded in human dignity, equality, non-racialism, non-sexism and the rule of law. Its Truth and Reconciliation Commission was created to document abuses under apartheid, provide a public record and support a process of national reconciliation. These steps helped establish a different legal and moral basis for citizenship.
South Africa remains marked by deep economic inequality, racialised patterns of wealth and continuing disputes over accountability. Its experience therefore cannot be presented as a completed victory over group hierarchy. It does show the importance of constitutional rules, public documentation of past abuses, institutions able to hear claims, and a national commitment that citizenship should not depend on racial origin.
Rwanda: national unity and the risks of suppressing identity
After the 1994 genocide, Rwanda prohibited ethnic labels on identity cards and adopted policies intended to prevent political mobilisation around Hutu, Tutsi and Twa categories. The historical record also shows why this example needs caution: critics have argued that suppressing official ethnic identification can make it harder for marginalised communities, including the Twa, to articulate specific needs. A state may discourage incitement and build a shared civic identity, but it must also protect minority rights and allow people to describe discrimination they experience.
The broader lesson is that a common citizenship can help limit exclusion, but forced silence about identity is not the same as equal treatment. A durable civic settlement must resist collective blame while allowing evidence-based discussion of past and present injustice.
Pakistan: the difference between a law and its enforcement
Pakistan’s Anti-Honour Killing Act of 2016 strengthened the criminal law response to killings committed in the name or pretext of honour. Other legal provisions address forced marriage, denial of inheritance and related abuses. These are important legal commitments, but official and human-rights reporting continues to identify problems with prevention, reporting, protection and prosecution. In June 2026, a United Nations report on a consultation in Karachi described renewed efforts involving government bodies, justice institutions and civil society to improve accountability, survivor protection and community engagement.
This record shows why reform must extend beyond the wording of statutes. Police must register and investigate complaints; prosecutors and judges must apply the law consistently; witnesses and survivors need protection; shelters and legal assistance must be accessible; and influential people must not be able to use family pressure or informal settlements to defeat accountability. Community and religious leaders can contribute to change when they clearly reject violence and support the rights of those at risk.
A law sets the public standard. Institutions make it credible. Social change makes it possible for people to act on it.
5. How Sindh could weaken neo-tribalism
The comparisons above point to a practical agenda for Sindh. The aim should not be to erase Sindhi identity, family ties, local languages or cultural traditions. Nor should it be to treat rural people as backward and urban people as enlightened. The issue is whether any identity—tribal, caste, clan, political, religious or professional—can be used to place a person above the law or to deny another person equal standing.
Make public institutions more reliable than patronage
When people believe that a complaint will be ignored unless a powerful relative intervenes, personal networks become a substitute for public institutions. Reliable police work, impartial investigation, accessible courts, transparent recruitment and clear public-service rules reduce the need to seek protection through influential groups. Public decisions should be documented and reviewable; appointments and services should follow published criteria rather than private recommendations.
Teach civic judgement, not just examination skills
Education needs to cultivate the ability to question claims, check evidence, recognise conflicts of interest and disagree without humiliation or threats. Universities can establish clear procedures for harassment and violence, publish disciplinary rules and protect students who report misconduct. Student organisations should be judged by their conduct and purposes, not by the ancestry of their members. A university is not civic in character merely because it awards degrees; it becomes civic when students learn that no person is exempt from rules because of family or group affiliation.
Change what online platforms reward
Digital literacy should include the ability to recognise manipulated images, edited clips, fabricated claims and campaigns that target an entire community for the actions of one person. Public figures and media organisations can refuse to publish unverified accusations and can correct false claims visibly. Platforms and institutions should have clear procedures for threats, coordinated harassment and incitement. Users can also choose not to share a claim simply because it praises their own group.
Protect those who challenge coercive customs
Women, young people and dissenting members may face intense pressure when they reject a marriage arrangement, challenge an abuse of authority or report a crime by a relative. Legal aid, confidential reporting, safe accommodation, responsive police procedures and survivor-centred services are essential. Community dialogue is useful only when it supports the safety and rights of the person affected; it must not become a way to pressure that person into silence or force a private settlement of a serious offence.
Give civic belonging a visible form
Shared public spaces, libraries, sports, arts, professional associations and neighbourhood initiatives can bring people together around tasks that cross inherited divisions. Schools and universities can encourage joint projects with mixed teams and common standards. Public service campaigns can present citizenship as a relationship of rights and duties rather than as a contest among lineages. Such efforts cannot replace legal protection, but they can create everyday experience of cooperation across group boundaries.
6. Belonging without blind obedience
People do not have to abandon family or cultural identity to become independent citizens. The more useful distinction is between belonging and obedience. Belonging allows affection, memory, language, mutual support and cultural practice. Blind obedience demands that a person defend the group even when it harms someone, hides evidence or violates the law.
A healthy civic culture makes room for multiple identities while keeping public standards clear. A person can be Sindhi, belong to a clan, speak a local language, practise a religion and take pride in family history without claiming that any of these things make them superior to another citizen. Likewise, someone can criticise a crime committed by a member of their own group without betraying that group. Refusing to conceal wrongdoing is a form of public responsibility.
This distinction is particularly important for the educated generation described in Buledi’s essay. Education should not merely provide credentials or access to employment. It should strengthen the ability to examine one’s own assumptions, correct a false claim even when it benefits one’s side, and apply the same moral test to a relative and a stranger. Without that habit, modern qualifications can coexist with inherited prejudice.
A civic society does not ask people to forget who they are. It asks them to recognise that no identity grants the right to harm, silence or rule over another person.
Conclusion: from group loyalty to equal citizenship
The central warning in “The New Tribalism of Sindh” is that social modernisation can change the setting without changing the rules people carry in their minds. A village-based hierarchy can enter a city; a clan network can become a digital group; an old claim to inherited rank can be presented through professional status and modern communications. The appearance changes, but the test remains the same: does group identity serve human dignity, or is it used to escape accountability and deny equal rights?
History offers no example of a country that removed every form of prejudice through education or technology alone. Progress has required enforceable rights, institutions that resist private influence, public records of abuse, support for those at risk, and social movements that challenge inherited rank. Even then, progress is incomplete and can be reversed.
For Sindh, the way forward is not hostility towards rural communities or cultural identity. It is a stronger public ethic: investigate conduct rather than ancestry; judge claims by evidence rather than loyalty; protect individual choice; and make the law more dependable than patronage. The true measure of modernity is not the number of degrees, devices or buildings a society possesses. It is whether people can live as equal citizens without having to surrender their conscience to a group.
Feature Article | Sindh, Society and Civic Life
Translation, historical context, social identity and equal citizenship
Editorial Note
References and further study
Clark, Cory J., Brittany S. Liu, Bo M. Winegard, and Peter H. Ditto. “Tribalism Is Human Nature.” Current Directions in Psychological Science 28, no. 6 (2019): 587–592.
Mohammadpour, Ahmad, and Kamal Soleimani. “Interrogating the Tribal: The Aporia of ‘Tribalism’ in the Sociological Study of the Middle East.” The British Journal of Sociology 70, no. 5 (2019): 1799–1824.
Kalin, Michael, and Nicholas Sambanis. “How to Think About Social Identity.” Annual Review of Political Science 21 (2018): 239–257.
Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. “Identity Politics.” Revised November 1, 2024.
United Nations Entity for Gender Equality and the Empowerment of Women (UN Women). “Pakistan: CEDAW Recommendations on Harmful Practices.” UN Women Data Hub.
United Nations in Pakistan. “High-Level Consultation in Karachi Advances Coordinated Action to Prevent Femicide and Gender-Related Killings.” June 16, 2026.
Nepal Law Commission. “The Constitution of Nepal.” See Articles 18 and 24 on equality and discrimination.
Government of South Africa. “Constitution of the Republic of South Africa, 1996: Founding Provisions.”
South African Department of Justice and Constitutional Development. “Truth and Reconciliation Commission.” Official archive.
Government of South Africa. “Constitution of the Republic of South Africa, 1996: Chapter 2, Bill of Rights.” Section 9, Equality.
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