To Be a Man

As Sarah Bernstein has recently suggested, hardly alone in doing so, American men continue to fall behind women in education and earning power, disrupting the “Cinderella” script of marrying well for security. Either women will need to marry men with less education and lower incomes than themselves or they won’t marry at all. The boys are struggling, perhaps explaining their political alienation and resentment.   

An industry of advice and self-help for men has emerged, ranging from spiritual kitsch to the extremely vulgar, with everything in between. When Jordan Peterson first became prominent, I was utterly perplexed: he was, after all, saying only what everyone’s grandpa and uncles said, except shrilly and with odder examples—right? I didn’t need a silly lobster illustration to explain that I needed to stand up straight, look people in the eye, and show up to work every day, but I still meet people who acknowledge his importance in their lives, and I don’t downplay or scorn this even while not understanding it.

More recently, a sort of neo-traditionalism, exasperated at the failure of men and blaming it on feminism, proudly declares itself antifeminist while reifying differences between men and women to discover and recover those virtues (supposedly) peculiar to men. I admit to having little patience for this, for I cannot see that the success of women necessitates the failure of men, and, moreover, virtue is the excellence of the human qua human. Of course sexual difference matters. But biological difference works itself out in statistical tendencies rather than with universality (so more women than men will likely choose the caring professions, but some women will become attorneys and some men will become hospice workers). While sound cultures acknowledge sexual difference and sexual asymmetry, some women will be stronger than some men, some men will be more nurturing than some women, but all are tasked to become moderate, wise, just, and courageous. To look for universality here is to look for what does not exist.

So what does it mean to be a man in this confused time, especially if you deny, as I do, virtues applicable only to men, and which, supposedly, allow us to crack the code and know what it means to be a man? I don’t think it’s that special, actually, and I certainly don’t think it is recognizable only in some stereotypically masculine form. A good man might like cars and football or books and cooking, might be large and loud or small and soft-spoken—but all good men, it seems to me, live for something other than themselves.

One can choose to live for various good things, and what one chooses shapes the contours of life in significant, even ultimate ways. To live for this woman, if done well, means that one is soon likely to be a husband, with a pattern of life built by the institution itself rather than one’s choices. If things go well, soon one is living for this family made with this woman, and the ensuing responsibilities and demands shape life even more. Soon one saves rather than spends, laughs at the idea of playing video games when overtime hours are available, and learns thrift, industry, patience, and to forgive and be forgiven. One is well on the way to becoming wise, courageous, moderate, and just, simply by showing up faithfully, responsibly, and intelligently (and one needn’t be that intelligent).

Or, one could choose to live for a religious institution as a pastor, rabbi, or priest. Perhaps one is married, perhaps not, but the responsibility of showing up, caring for people at their happiest or saddest moments, and keeping faith with the texts, traditions, rites, and laws affords the opportunity to be formed by millennia of human experience, wisdom, and received demands. Soon, if one shows up faithfully, responsibly, and intelligently (and one needn’t be that intelligent), one is well on the way to becoming wise, courageous, moderate, and just.

Or, one could live for country, allowing the shaving of hair and following orders given by others. If one shows up, keeps faith, and does what duty demands, soon one finds the institution has provided the pathways and long wisdom of this form of life. The same is true of a trade, where the demands of apprenticeship (or the associate pool) mean that one shows up, works the hours, learns the skills, and soon becomes accomplished, orderly, respected, and knowledgeable.

There is no life hack for this kind of formation, no shortcut, no online guru, no program to purchase or follow, no need for gear or subscriptions. It’s quite simple in principle while quite difficult in practice. The great temptations for many men, it seems to me, are laziness, indulgence, self-regard, and comfort-seeking, all of which can be described as a type of false liberty, a love of freedom that is not freedom at all so much as license. But if the choice is made to live for something other than oneself, to live for this woman, this institution, this responsibility, this town, this school—but not for women, institutions, schools, or towns in general; no ideological abstraction here—so long as one doesn’t violate or renege on the choice, the roles internal to that form of life present more than sufficient opportunities to become virtuous. And the good (although difficult) reality is that those opportunities present themselves without choice. 

The child will need a diaper change or help with her shoes, she will need medical care or braces—her particular needs at a given time are not up to you—and all you need to do is, simply, what the role demands. Eventually, the woman you love will be ill and need you to be steadfast and kind. The parishioners will be obnoxious in their demands and criticisms. The boss or colonel will expect the task to be completed on time and on budget. A bishop will give a burdensome assignment. A child will fail educationally or morally. You will become old and ill and need to allow family to care for you, you who were so strong. All of this requires work, lots of work, and you will be too tired to get into trouble at night, and you’ll go to bed earlier than you ever expected, at hours you mocked when you were young.

If things go well and promises are kept, the roles accepted, the limits on freedom freely welcomed, you’ll start to save for grandchildren. You’ll buy a plot of land on which to build for them. That plot of land demands husbandry at the pace required, not on your schedule, and the pear tree you tend won’t produce fruit for many seasons. Your former students will introduce you to their children, perhaps now old enough to be your students. Congregants you married will now ask you to do a funeral. You’ll be promoted to hire young people to take your previous task, and you’ll teach them to do it, and demand they do it well—on time and on budget. You’ll become the colonel or the bishop with all the cares and concerns entailed, far more grievous cares than you knew when young and fancy-free. It takes years of keeping faith, keeping promises, and doing what the role demands—but soon you’ll discover you are a good husband, a good father, a good priest, a good boss, even one with a legacy, however modest or grand it turns out to be.

But you’ll have had a good life. People will say of you, “he was a good man.” And it will be true.

If only you’ll give up your false freedom, live for something, and allow the demands and responsibilities internal to that form of life to shape your actions, with your actions eventually your virtue, and with your virtue eventually a happy, complete life. No theory is needed here, just a choice to live for someone or something other than yourself. (And no, living for your career won’t do.)

Image by Halfpoint and licensed via Adobe Stock.