The New Age of Masculinity

For men in 2019, the past isn’t so much a different country, as it is a different planet.

You don’t have to go back more than 10 years to see evidence of this. Film, television and video games were filled with depictions of masculinity that were meant to be aspirational but, with the benefit of hindsight, look downright bizarre. Sharp-suited businessmen who got things done. Cork-popping playboys who owned garages stocked with sports cars and bedrooms full of anonymous super models. Soldiers, mercenaries and one-man-armies who made up for what they lacked in charm with bullet-belts and throwing knives.

The perfect man was going to do one of two things to you: kill you or have sex with you. Either way he wasn’t going to say anything while getting the job done.

The perfect man was going to do one of two things to you: kill you or have sex with you. Either way he wasn’t going to say anything while getting the job done.

The one thing these archetypes had in common (apart from the ability to drink alcoholic spirits without wincing) was a total lack of emotional depth. You could stab and shoot The Perfect Man, you could divorce him, repossess his house and fire him from his job but you couldn’t make him open up. Part of his appeal was his stoicism, and that meant men – normal men like you – were expected to follow suite. Any introspection would be done alone, in a bar, in silence.

Looking back at these angry, silent relics our reaction should be one of pity. How lonely their lives seem from our contemporary perch. James Bond might be able to effortlessly seduce women but no one’s ever going to want to Netflix and chill with him. He’s a sad, friendless psychopath. And it’s incredible that we were meant to want to be like him.

Today our heroes, those men who rise to the front of the mob through merit, are good men. Increasingly, our role models are thoroughly, powerfully, decent individuals.

After all, where’s the appeal in quasi-villainous anti-heroes, when there are currently so many objectively monstrous men running the actual world? We’ve taken one look at the grotesque lunatics heading up industry and politics and said “I’d quite like to be the opposite of them, thanks”.

After all, where’s the appeal in quasi-villainous anti-heroes, when there are currently so many objectively monstrous men running the actual world?

Hence the sudden surfeit of male role-models who are unlike anything that has come before. Anthony Joshua OBE might punch people in the head for a living, but he’s also sweet-natured and committed to promoting an image of himself that’s more mindfulness than murderous. Stormzy, arguably the biggest British musical breakthrough of the last five years, manages to maintain rap credibility while screen-shotting text conversations with his mum and talking frankly about mental health. Even Gary Lineker, who for decades was respected simply for being an absolutely lethal striker and affable TV host, has found a second wind as a sort of national conscience, using his social media platform to draw attention to a wide variety of ethical and political issues.

In fact, social media is the single largest driving force behind this seismic shift in male values. Instagram, Twitter and the rest have become tools that allow (theoretically) anyone to take control of how they’re perceived. And it turns out the way in which most men want to be perceived is: happy, healthy and good. Financial success at any cost has been replaced by mental well-being and spiritual equilibrium. Who knows how Premier League footballers in the 1990s would have used social media, but I’d put money on them not posting soulful black-and-white images of themselves accompanied by captions like “open your heart, shed fear, hate or envy”, as some among the recent crop have done.

Who knows how Premier League footballers in the 1990s would have used social media, but I’d put money on them not posting soulful black-and-white images of themselves accompanied by captions like “open your heart, shed fear, hate or envy”

Meanwhile the relatively new phenomenon of male lifestyle Instagram influencers has made our aspirations even clearer. While it’s true that there are freakishly muscular, red meat-eating throwbacks among them, the ones that really resonate with us are those who make it clear that their workout regimes and six-packs are never attained at the expense of their emotional wellbeing.

The ease with which social media lets us share our thoughts means men are becoming more comfortable with expressing themselves. There is no longer any mileage in being a silent enigma. This is a good thing. Alcoholism, drug addiction and academic underachievement are issues that affect more men than women, and part of this is due to our fellow man’s traditional inability to open up and talk honestly about the way he’s feeling. Your friend’s tediously long, incredibly candid New Year’s Instagram caption is a small price to pay for a culture in which we feel comfortable revealing more than just laddish banter in our public spaces.

So, where does our new outlook leave the male icons of yesteryear? The barrel-chested, mainly mute alphas who provided men with a life code for so many decades? Personally, I think it would be dangerous to consign them entirely to the Dustbin of Cultural Embarrassment. Doing so would be an act of denial, tantamount to saying that you never found John Rambo’s machine guns or Don Draper’s daytime drinking even slightly thrilling. We need to be up-front about the things that vaguely entertain us. The only difference is we’re no longer looking at Axl Rose and Eazy-E for principles to live by. Thank God.

We need to be up-front about the things that vaguely entertain us. The only difference is we’re no longer looking at Axl Rose and Eazy-E for principles to live by. Thank God.

In a world where many visible men have recently been revealed as scoundrels, sadists and worse, it’s vital we cherish any quality that mark its owner out as being decent. Qualities that were once seen as unmanly, such as kindness, empathy and soulfulness, are now vital to the rehabilitation of masculinity. The better we get at opening up and talking, the more we become empowered to make positive change. Our potential to help undo the damage caused by other men won’t be realised until we learn to look after ourselves, deal with our own wellbeing and confront previously stigmatised issues. The Perfect Man could do many things – hand-stand press-ups, after-dinner speaking and jiu-jitsu among them. But he couldn’t do that.