John Allen Chau was the missionary who tried to convert the isolated Sentinelese tribe in 2018 and was ultimately killed by them. His story is a stark example of how spiritual belief, ego, and cultural conditioning can intertwine in dangerous ways.

At the heart of it:
We grow up immersed in a worldview — it’s not just taught to us; it’s the invisible air we breathe. Chau grew up believing in Christian salvation and the urgent need to “save” non-Christians. Because this belief was the only reality he knew, it felt unquestionably right to him. From inside that bubble, reaching the Sentinelese may have seemed like the highest good.

But beneath the surface, the ego often hijacks even the most ‘holy’ missions.

When people don’t achieve worldly success or recognition — when their dreams of being “great” in society don’t pan out — ego looks for other battlegrounds. “If I can’t be special here, I’ll be special somewhere else.” In Chau’s case, that “somewhere else” was the untouched world of a remote tribe. And ironically, this desire to “save” them was deeply entangled with the need to feel exceptional — the chosen one, the martyr, the heroic figure doing what others wouldn’t dare.

This is the imperialist instinct disguised in spiritual clothing:

• “They are lost, I am found.”
• “They are primitive, I am enlightened.”
• “They need me.”
  

Historically, this is how much of colonization was justified: not just for gold and land, but with the “noble” cause of civilizing, Christianizing, or saving “the heathens.” It’s a mix of ignorance (not knowing there are different valid ways of life) and ego (needing to be the one who knows better).

Spiritual superiority is one of the most dangerous forms of ego, because it cloaks itself in virtue.
You don’t just think you’re better — you think you’re better for their own good.
And when you believe you’re acting out of pure love or divine command, you’re even less likely to question your own motives.

In reality, the Sentinelese didn’t need saving. They needed respect for their autonomy. Their way of life had endured for tens of thousands of years without the so-called “light” of the outside world. But Chau’s conditioning didn’t allow him to see that. His compassion, hijacked by ego and belief, became invasive rather than reverent.

In the bigger picture, this story shows:

• How dangerous it is to mistake our conditioned beliefs for universal truth. 
• How easy it is for ego to wear the mask of righteousness. 
• How even spirituality can become an extension of imperialism if we are not deeply, brutally honest with ourselves. 

True spirituality would have looked like honoring the Sentinelese from afar — respecting their boundary, recognizing that divinity lives in them without needing our intrusion.