Luke Ford

In his presentation on the Alliance Theory of Political Belief Systems, David Pinsof argues that our political convictions do not stem from deep moral philosophies. Instead, they function as strategic tools for navigating a social world dominated by alliances. Humans evolved in environments where being excluded from a group often meant death. Consequently, we possess an evolved psychology designed to form, maintain, and defend alliances for mutual benefit at the expense of outsiders.

Pinsof uses evolutionary game theory to identify ten Evolutionarily Stable Strategies (ESS). A strategy is stable if it can invade a population when rare and resist replacement once common. These strategies form the foundation of how we pick sides and justify our team’s behavior.

Evolution is a competitive process. If a new strategy—like forming an alliance—appears in a group where everyone else acts alone, it must first prove it has a “winning” advantage.

The word “invade” refers to the first hurdle. Imagine a population of solitary hunters. A mutation occurs, and two individuals suddenly have the “alliance” gene, allowing them to hunt together. Because they catch more food than the solo hunters, they survive better and have more offspring. Their numbers grow. We say they are invading the population because their strategy is more successful than the established one.

Once almost everyone in the population has the alliance gene, the strategy must be able to defend itself. If a new “betrayer” gene appears—someone who takes the benefits of the alliance but never helps—that new strategy might try to invade in return. A strategy is only stable if it remains the most successful option even when everyone else is doing it.

In David Pinsof’s model, forming an alliance is a stable strategy because an individual who tries to go back to being neutral or solo will always be outperformed and out-competed by the existing pairs. The allies keep winning, which prevents any other strategy from successfully taking over.

The Ten Evolutionary Strategies of Alliances

The first and most fundamental strategy is to simply play the game. In a world of allies and neutrals, allies win because they gain the benefits of cooperation. Neutrals do not gain these benefits but still pay the costs of being targeted by others. Because evolution cares about relative gains rather than the absolute good of the species, the “ally” strategy inevitably invades and stays.

Once you are in the game, you need shortcuts to coordinate with others. The second strategy is transitivity, often summarized as the enemy of my enemy is my friend. If you and I share an enemy, we have already done the hard work of narrowing down whom to exclude. This coordination makes us safer bets for one another. This logic extends to three other related strategies: the friend of my enemy is my enemy, the enemy of my friend is my enemy, and the friend of my friend is my friend. These are not just proverbs; they are mathematical solutions to the problem of choosing whom to trust in a crowded field of potential partners.

The sixth strategy involves favoring those who are like you. Similarity serves as a coordination device, but for it to work, it must meet specific criteria. It must be common knowledge, salient, categorical, and exclusive. If everyone has the same trait, it cannot be used to form an exclusive group. This leads to the seventh strategy: using nostalgia and shared history. Because the past is exclusive and cannot be mimicked by newcomers, it acts as a powerful “copycat proof” barrier for alliances.

The eighth strategy is to follow the leader. Leadership is not a mystical quality; it is a byproduct of one individual amassing a large number of loyal allies. If everyone favors Bob, then Bob’s friends become everyone’s friends, and Bob’s enemies become everyone’s enemies. This is followed by the ninth strategy: target your competitors. If you are competing for a mate or a resource, accusing your rival of a transgression—like witchcraft in the past or “problematic” behavior today—is an effective way to get the group to help you eliminate a competitor.

Finally, Pinsof identifies the tenth strategy as eating the rich. When resources are distributed unequally, the most efficient coordination device for the rest of the group is to target the person with the most stuff. Envy provides the motivation to form a “many against one” alliance, which yields a higher payout than picking a target at random.

Ideology as Propagandistic Bias

If these strategies dictate our alliances, then what we call “ideology” is actually a collection of ad hoc justifications. We use moral language not to seek truth, but to provide cover for our allies. Pinsof describes these as propagandistic biases. We downplay the transgressions of our friends, demonize the actions of our enemies, and frame our own advantages as “earned” while framing the advantages of rivals as “unfair.”

This explains why political belief systems are often riddled with logical inconsistencies. A conservative might argue for personal responsibility when discussing welfare recipients (an outgroup) but demand government help for struggling heartland towns (an ingroup). A liberal might champion “my body, my choice” regarding abortion but oppose the right of an individual to sell their own kidney. These are not failures of logic; they are successes of alliance management. The “principle” is merely a rhetorical club used when it helps the team and discarded when it hurts the team.

Ultimately, politics functions less like a debate over the “Good” and more like the social dynamics of a high school cafeteria or a chimpanzee troop. We are the descendants of the winners of these ancient games, and we carry their strategic blueprints in every political argument we make.

In the 2023 paper Alliance Theory of Political Belief Systems, David Pinsof and his co-authors provide a deeper look at how specific modern alliances shape what we consider to be core ideological values. The core argument remains that these belief systems are not singular philosophies but rather patchwork narratives. These narratives are generated whenever partisans need to mobilize support for their specific political allies or opposition to their rivals.

One of the more detailed aspects of the paper involves the “strange bedfellows” phenomenon, where seemingly unrelated or even contradictory groups find themselves on the same side of the political aisle. Pinsof explains that these groups are often brought together through transitivity and the follow-the-leader strategy. For instance, in the United States, secular feminists and devout Muslims might seem like an unlikely pair given the stark differences in their views on gender roles. However, because both groups find a common rival in the American religious right, they become allies. The “enemy of my enemy” logic creates a political bond that overrides their philosophical differences.

The paper also expands on the idea of propagandistic biases as the building blocks of ideology. These biases are not just random errors but are functional tools. If an ally gains an advantage, we develop a narrative that their success is just and earned. If a rival gains an advantage, we spin a theory about how that advantage is unfair or the result of corruption. This creates a “political solar system” where the alliances are the sun, and the moral arguments are merely planets orbiting that central gravity.

Pinsof specifically challenges the Moral Foundations Theory by arguing that if we truly held deep moral foundations, our views would be consistent across different groups. Instead, we see “epicycles” of logic where we change our moral standards depending on who is being judged. The “Strange Bedfellows” paper argues that we should stop looking for a deep, underlying moral consistency in politics because politics is ultimately about the shifting landscape of who is on our team.

In Pinsof’s model, the neutral strategy fails because of a cold mathematical reality: being neutral does not protect you from being a target.

To understand why neutrals cannot resist the invasion of allies, we look at the expected payoffs. Imagine a world of three people. If two people decide to become allies, they gain a benefit by ganging up on the third person. The third person, the neutral, pays a heavy cost.

The key to the “stable” part of the strategy is that the allies are not just winning; they are making it impossible for a neutral to survive. A neutral person cannot opt out of the consequences of the game. Even if you “refuse to play,” the allies will still take your resources, accuse you of witchcraft, or pass policies that hurt your interests.

When the math is simplified, the allies have a positive expected payoff because they occasionally win the “alliance” bonus. Neutrals have a negative or zero expected payoff because they never win the bonus but still suffer the same risk of being excluded and targeted.

Because the “fitness” or success rate of the ally is higher than the neutral, the ally gene spreads until it is the only one left. Once the population is entirely made of allies, a lone neutral entering the group would be immediately targeted and out-competed, meaning they can never “re-invade.” The strategy is stable because, in a world where everyone else is ganging up, you are forced to gang up just to keep pace.

The tragedy of the human condition Pinsof describes is that we are all made worse off by the very strategies that make us successful. Evolution does not care about the total happiness of a group; it only cares about which individual beats the person standing next to them.

In the witch hunt game, the best possible outcome for everyone is for no one to be accused. If everyone stays neutral, the risk of being burned at the stake is zero. However, as soon as two people realize they can secure their own safety by pointing the finger at a third, the “neutral” equilibrium shatters. Once the alliance strategy starts, everyone must join an alliance or face certain destruction.

This creates a race to the bottom. Even if the costs of being excluded are catastrophic—such as death or total loss of resources—those costs actually drive the alliance strategy faster. The higher the cost of losing, the more desperate you are to find an ally. Eventually, the entire population consists of people ganging up on each other, and the species as a whole is in a worse position than when everyone was neutral.

Pinsof calls this the tragedy of the human condition because we are trapped in these games by our own biology. We possess an evolved alliance psychology that forces us to see the world in terms of “us” versus “them” because those who didn’t play the game were simply eliminated from the gene pool. We are the descendants of the people who were best at ganging up on Bob.

In Pinsof’s framework, the reason we find it nearly impossible to change our minds is that our beliefs are not files in a database; they are membership cards for our team.

When we are presented with facts that contradict our political stance, our alliance psychology views those facts as a threat to our social safety. If you admit your “side” is wrong about a policy or a candidate, you are effectively betraying your allies. In the ancestral environment, betraying your alliance meant you might be the next one targeted in the “grabbing game” or the “witch hunt.”

This is why we use propagandistic biases to filter information. Our brains perform a quick calculation: is this information good for my friends or good for my enemies? If a study shows that your ally’s policy is failing, your brain reflexively looks for reasons to discredit the study, the researchers, or the data. This isn’t because you are “stupid” or “irrational,” but because your brain is prioritizing social survival over abstract truth.

We also use “denial of transgressions” as a protective shield. If an ally is accused of a crime, admitting their guilt weakens the entire alliance. Therefore, we instinctively downplay the severity of the act or claim the accusation is a “witch hunt” by the rival team. We aren’t seeking the truth of the event; we are seeking to maintain the strength of our defensive wall.

This creates a world where “truth” becomes a casualty of the Simple Majority Game. Since we are the descendants of those who prioritized their alliances over objective reality, we are biologically wired to be stubborn. Changing your mind isn’t just a mental shift; it is a strategic risk that could leave you standing alone without a team to protect you.

Cancel culture functions as a high-stakes version of the witch hunt game where the goal is to secure your status by coordinating an attack on a target. In the ancestral environment, two people agreeing that a third was a witch made it true for all practical purposes. Today, if enough people coordinate to label someone as a transgressor, that person loses their social and professional resources.

According to Pinsof, this is a highly effective evolutionary strategy because it serves two purposes at once. First, it demonstrates your loyalty to the dominant alliance. By being the first or loudest to point the finger, you signal that you share the group’s values and are a “safe” ally. Second, it creates an opening in the social hierarchy. If the target is a competitor for a job, status, or influence, removing them directly benefits the survivors of the hunt.

This explains why these movements often focus on “hard-to-verify” transgressions. Just as no one could prove someone wasn’t a witch, it is difficult to disprove accusations of bad intent or secret biases. This ambiguity is actually a feature of the game, not a bug. It allows the alliance to choose a target based on strategic need—such as removing a rival or disciplining a “betrayer”—while using moral language as a cover.

The “tragedy” here is that everyone lives in fear of being the next target. This fear forces even more conformity. If you see an alliance ganging up on someone, you are strategically forced to join the pile-on or at least remain silent. If you defend the target, you risk being labeled a “friend of the enemy,” which triggers the transitivity ESS and makes you the next victim. The game remains stable because the cost of standing alone is higher than the moral cost of joining a hunt.

In Pinsof’s research, neutrality is not a safe middle ground; it is a tactical failure. If you are neutral in a conflict, you are effectively a “no-man’s-land” that anyone can march across. Because you have no allies to defend you, you are the easiest target in the room.

This explains why, in high-stakes political or social conflicts, people often say “silence is violence” or “if you aren’t with us, you’re against us.” From the perspective of an alliance, a neutral person is a potential defector or a “friend of the enemy” who refuses to help. The transitivity strategy—where the enemy of my friend is my enemy—means that if you refuse to help your friend attack their rival, your friend will eventually view you as part of the rival’s camp.

Pinsof notes that neutrality is often interpreted as betrayal because alliances require active coordination. If everyone in a group is pointing their finger at a “witch,” and you remain silent, you are breaking the coordination. Your silence signals that you do not share the group’s common knowledge or salient goals. In a “Simple Majority Game,” this makes you a liability to your own side and a tempting target for the other.

This pressure leads to what Pinsof describes as the “Strange Bedfellows” effect. Groups with nothing in common—and who might even dislike each other—will form a loud, unified alliance simply because the cost of being the “neutral” target is too high. We aren’t choosing our sides based on who is “right”; we are choosing the side that is most likely to protect us from being the next person cancelled or excluded.

Status closure creates no-fly zones because certain facts act like landmines for a group. If an alliance forms around a specific narrative, any truth that contradicts that narrative threatens the social bond. In this framework, status closure is the mechanism by which a group protects its territory. When a group successfully closes its status, it defines who is in and who is out based on their willingness to respect these boundaries.

We see this when discussions of excellence or merit conflict with the needs of the alliance. You have previously observed that status closure can be pro-social or dramatically anti-social and anti-excellence. This happens because the alliance prioritizes the protection of its members over the pursuit of truth or quality. If an alliance depends on a shared myth, then questioning that myth is a move toward exclusion. The no-fly zone is a defensive perimeter.

This relates directly to the narrowing of the Overton Window. As alliances become more polarized, the range of “acceptable” speech shrinks. This is not because people are becoming less intelligent, but because they are becoming more strategically defensive. Each alliance creates its own set of sacred topics that cannot be touched without risking social suicide. The more a group feels threatened, the larger its no-fly zone becomes.

The pain of these encounters in America today often comes from the collision of different status closure mechanisms. When you look at how conservative claims of cultural oppression or the experiences of certain writers intersect with these theories, you see the “grabbing game” in action. One group uses status closure to protect its resources and influence, while the other group uses its own alliances to try to break that closure.

The result is a landscape where we cannot discuss certain topics openly because doing so would signal that we are no longer loyal to our team. We choose to stay within the no-fly zones not because we agree with the restrictions, but because we fear the “witch hunt” that follows a transgression. This reinforces the tragedy of the human condition, where our evolved need for protection prevents us from engaging with reality as it is.

In Pinsof’s framework, “follow the leader” acts as the maintenance crew for these no-fly zones. Because coordination is the hardest part of any alliance, a leader serves as a single, salient point of reference. If the leader designates a topic as off-limits or a person as an enemy, the followers adopt that stance to ensure they remain coordinated with the rest of the pack.

Leadership simplifies the “Simple Majority Game” by providing a shortcut for transitivity. Instead of every individual having to calculate who is a friend or an enemy, they simply look at the leader’s social ledger. If the leader ignores a particular fact or demonizes a specific group, the followers do the same. This creates a powerful enforcement mechanism. To question a no-fly zone is not just to question a fact; it is to question the leader’s authority and the group’s unity.

This strategy is especially effective because it prevents “creeping neutrality.” Leaders use salient events to force their followers to take a stand, effectively shrinking the no-fly zones until only the most loyal remain. In modern politics, this looks like a leader making a controversial statement that forces everyone in the alliance to either defend them or be cast out as a betrayer. The followers defend the statement not necessarily because they believe it, but because the “follow the leader” ESS tells them that the alternative—losing their primary ally—is a much higher cost.

This cycle reinforces status closure. The leader defines the boundaries, and the followers police them to prove their loyalty. Anyone who tries to introduce a forbidden topic into the conversation is immediately identified as a “mutant” or a “neutral” who isn’t playing the game correctly. By attacking the person who breaks the no-fly zone, the followers secure their own status within the alliance.