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David French
By David French
Opinion Columnist
To understand the state of men in this country, it’s necessary to know three things.
First, millions of men are falling behind women academically and suffering from a lack of meaning and purpose. Second, there is no consensus whatsoever on whether there’s a problem, much less how to respond and pull millions of men back from the brink. Third, many men are filling the void themselves by turning to gurus to guide their lives. They’re not waiting for elite culture, the education establishment or the church to define manhood. They’re turning to Andrew Tate, Joe Rogan, Jordan Peterson and a host of others — including Elon Musk and Tucker Carlson — to show them the way.
Not all of these influencers are equally toxic. Tate, for example, is in a class by himself. He’s a pornographer who is facing human trafficking and rape charges in Romania. Peterson, by contrast, mixes good advice with a bizarre ideology. He’ll swing between compassionate insight and wild conspiracy. I’ve known men who genuinely improved their lives through elements of Peterson’s teaching. But to spend time watching and reading these gurus as a group is to understand why men continue to struggle even though the market is now flooded with online advice.
It’s as if an entire self-help industry decided the best cure for one form of dysfunction is simply a different dysfunction. Replace passivity and hopelessness with frenetic activity, tinged with anger and resentment. Get in the weight room, dress sharper, develop confidence and double down on every element of traditional masculinity you believe is under fire.
Yes, men are absolutely feeling demoralized, as Richard Reeves put it in his brilliant book “Of Boys and Men: Why the Modern Male Is Struggling, Why It Matters, and What to Do About It.” But what is the influencer advice in response? Lash out. Fight. Defy the cultural elite that supposedly destroyed your life.
I’m reminded of my colleague David Brooks’s distinction between “résumé virtues” and “eulogy virtues.” As David described it, résumé virtues “are those skills you bring to the marketplace.” Eulogy virtues, by contrast, “are talked about at your funeral — whether you were kind, brave, honest or faithful. Were you capable of deep love?” Most of the “manosphere” influencers look at men’s existential despair and respond with a mainly material cure. Yes, some nod at classical values (and even cite the Stoics, for example), but it’s in service of the will to win. Success — with money, with women — becomes your best revenge.
The problems with this approach are obvious to anyone with an ounce of wisdom or experience, but I’m reminded of a memorable line from “The Big Lebowski”: “I mean, say what you want about the tenets of national socialism, Dude, at least it’s an ethos.” It’s hard to counter something with nothing, and when it comes to the crisis confronting men and boys, there is no competing, holistic vision for our sons.
One reason for this vacuum is that any discussion of the crisis among men almost immediately devolves into a debate over masculinity itself. Is traditional masculinity toxic? Or is it toxic to abandon traditionally masculine approaches to raising boys? What is traditional masculinity anyway? Is “masculinity” even a concept worth pursuing, or does it jam too many boys into stereotypical boxes, magnifying their misery?
After reading a new book, I’m wondering if there is another, better way. Can we sidestep the elite debate over masculinity by approaching the crisis with men via an appeal to universal values rather than to the distinctively male experience? In other words, is there a universal approach to shaping character that can have a disproportionately positive impact on our lost young men?
The book I am talking about is called “The Pursuit of Happiness.” It’s by Jeffrey Rosen, the president of the National Constitution Center (where I’ve spoken at a number of events), and it’s not a self-help book, nor is it a guide for young men. But it does contain a superior moral vision for the good life, one that is directly connected to the philosophy of the founding generation.
The core argument of the book is that the phrase “pursuit of happiness” — Thomas Jefferson’s memorable phrase in the Declaration of Independence — is fundamentally misunderstood. We think of happiness as the pursuit of pleasure, Rosen writes, “but classical and Enlightenment thinkers defined happiness as the pursuit of virtue — as being good, rather than feeling good.”
He explains how several of the founders imperfectly but quite intentionally and systematically listed the virtues they aspired to uphold and engaged in critical self-reflection about their own faults. As Rosen writes, “The classical definition of the pursuit of happiness meant being a lifelong learner, with a commitment to practicing the daily habits that lead to character improvement, self-mastery, flourishing and growth.” The emphasis is on the word “lifelong” — the pursuit of happiness is a quest, not a destination, in part because we are always a work in progress, even to our last days.
And what are these classical virtues? Benjamin Franklin’s list included temperance, silence, order, resolution, frugality, industry, sincerity, justice, moderation, cleanliness, tranquillity, chastity and humility. I prefer the shorter and simpler formulation in Aristotle’s four cardinal virtues: prudence, justice, temperance and courage.
None of these virtues is distinctly male, of course. Rosen speaks of the influence of classical virtues on Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s moral development, for example. At the same time, however, I’ve never met a struggling young man whose life wouldn’t be enriched by greater commitment to any one of those cardinal virtues, much less all four. Regardless of your definition of masculinity, is there any world or any relevant ideology in which a prudent, just, temperate and courageous man isn’t a good man?
In Rosen’s book, you’ll find both the people and the philosophy that can replace the influencers of the modern manosphere. Franklin, John Adams and other founders were hardly perfect, but their ideas and examples are orders of magnitude more positive than the ideas and examples that dominate masculine discourse today.
Too much of our education establishment and too many of our nation’s parents are focused on success ethics, not virtue ethics. Our schools train students for careers, and parents push their children toward success, hovering over them to monitor their progress or snowplowing to clear their way. In the success ethic, virtues are often a means to an end. Prudence, temperance and industry can contribute to your success, but that is not their ultimate purpose.
Yet success ethics are ultimately empty, and our children feel that emptiness. If they fall behind, they feel panic and dread. But even when they succeed, their success doesn’t fill that hole in their hearts, at least not for long. Virtue, however, is different. Perfection is impossible, but virtue is a purpose all its own. And it’s that pursuit of virtue, not mere achievement (and certainly not resentment), that ultimately defines who we are.
I fall back to these universal values not because I reject the idea that young men have a distinct masculine experience, but rather because the argument about ideal masculinity is diverting our attention from the more urgent quest, to fill the hole in the hearts of our children, to provide them with a purpose that is infinitely more satisfying than the ambition and rebellion that define the ethos of the gurus who are leading so many young men astray.
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David French is an Opinion columnist, writing about law, culture, religion and armed conflict. He is a veteran of Operation Iraqi Freedom and a former constitutional litigator. His most recent book is “Divided We Fall: America’s Secession Threat and How to Restore Our Nation.” You can follow him on Threads (@davidfrenchjag).
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