Of Nice and Men

My mother was a stalwart, explorer type, born and raised in India when it was part of the Empire. Before she died, I recorded her recounting many of her adventures: crammed below deck on a British warship escaping the Japanese Navy; crash-landing in a DC-3 in the Libyan desert; hiding in the dark from the Mau Mau in Kenya as they hunted her down in the bush. These mind-boggling memories seemed like stories from a world long gone, so far in the rear-view mirror – and a reminder of how late in life my mother delivered her seventh child (me).

Nothing, however, prepared me for the day I took my mum, who knew everything about movie stars, to the Hollywood Walk of Fame. As we strolled, she shared tales—Lawrence Olivier’s cruelty to Vivien Leigh, Clark Gable’s halitosis—until suddenly, she collapsed at the sight of Gary Cooper’s star, cooing like a K-pop fangirl. “Oh, Gary Cooper, he was a real man,” she giggled. I was agog.

Gary Cooper: A star of Hollywood’s golden era, the epitome of the strong, silent American. As famed director, William Wyler, noted when announcing Cooper as the recipient of an honorary Oscar for his body of work, “Contrary to popular belief, Coop is not a shy man…he is a humble man, he has humility, not to be confused with weakness.”

Today, the very traits in Cooper that made my mother swoon—quiet strength, humility, integrity—would be seen by many men as signs of weakness. How did we get here?

Power and Identity

I was recently asked to speak at a California Department of Healthcare Services conference about a fentanyl and meth awareness campaign we created aimed at teens and young adults. A major focus of my talk was the behavioral influence of power and identity, which are primary drivers of much of the behavior we seek to change. But it’s not just teens being influenced by these powerful forces—American males as a whole are in a crisis stoked by power and identity.

In recent decades, American men have faced mounting external pressures and internal struggles, now compounded by the relentless feedback loop of social media. Many men feel their power—and manliness—are slipping away. Generation X men, born between 1965 and 1980, were the first to widely believe they wouldn’t do better in life than their parents, and for many, that belief has become reality. Pensions evaporated, manufacturing jobs moved overseas, the middle-class withered, and the idea of a comfortable retirement became an aspiration, not a guarantee. Relatedly, their children, too, Millennials and Gen Z are growing up with a further diminished sense of possibility.

So what happens when the historical foundations of manliness, the ability to lead and provide and the identity tied to it, starts to crumble?

The Performative Man

Enter the Performative Man. In contrast to Gary Cooper’s quiet, steadfast masculinity, today’s performative man adopts behaviors not as a natural expression of self, but as an act for viewers. Many men today act out “manliness” for validation—especially on social media, where extreme behavior is rewarded. The result is a distorted view of what it means to be a man.

Genuine strength involves resilience, emotional intelligence, self-discipline, and integrity—qualities often scorned in a performative society that values quick, visible displays of “power.” True strength doesn’t need to be broadcast; it is quiet, internal, and enduring. But quiet strength doesn’t get votes or clicks —the currency of the esteem-challenged. And so it is, for some, replaced by a brittle, preening version of manliness, that requires raucous response everywhere it feels challenged by change.

We see performative maleness in the change in the nature of gun culture. I’ve been a sport shooter since I was a kid, but the amount of people who now carry or build-up “tacti-cool” rigs is rather funny to someone that grew up around guns. And the sudden need to open-carry a weapon to go grab a latte at Starbucks or imagine yourself a peacekeeper at already peaceful demonstrations is eyebrow raising—it’s the difference between your gun being a tool and thinking your gun is your manhood.

We see it in men flying the US flag upside down. By flying the flag upside down, individuals suggest that they have a heightened awareness of perceived national dangers, whether political, moral, or social. Then, much like a firefighter who starts a fire that they can be the hero of putting out, the flag-flyers promote their identity as protectors, defenders and patriots who are especially vigilant. (Hyper-patriotism—actually nationalism —being another performative male marker).

We see it in the parking of huge pickups in Supercharger spots so EV’s cannot refuel. (A hostility toward change that has given a game-changing new technology, that the US was leading the world in, over to the Chinese, never to recover.)

We also see performative male behavior in more subtle and socially collusive forms. It is increasingly common to see people, particularly on social media, ganging up to excoriate someone publicly—not to engage in meaningful debate, but to prove their own moral superiority. The point becomes less about the strength of their argument and more about being seen as tough, righteous, or “strong” by their peers.

This “call-out” or “cancel culture” often prioritizes quick, aggressive attacks over thoughtful discourse. Instead of engaging with nuance or empathy, these pile-ons serve to signal allegiance to a group and project an image of strength through condemnation—often at the cost of the recipient's livelihood. Much like other forms of performative behavior, it’s driven by the desire to be seen and validated—this time through moral or intellectual one-upmanship.

Additionally, there are the men competing through exaggerated physicality, hyper-competitiveness and hostility toward feminism and gender issues.

To be clear, many of these things have existed in one form or another for decades, but when your maleness becomes of itself a competition, then only the maximum will do. It’s no longer about the thing, it’s about you having and being more of the thing, which only compounds feelings of inadequacy, loneliness and mental health struggles leading to pursuing more of the same behavior in search of a fulfillment that will never be found.

However, it is also important to shine light on the fact that there is a loose movement that regards any form of masculinity as toxic. This is an extremely lazy and damaging view and only feeds the problem. There should be no surprise of a widespread pushback by men when they are feeling constrained from all sides. We need to leave open avenues to positive maleness and encourage and celebrate men walking that road.

Manners Maketh the Man

So, what can we do?

Watching High Noon isn’t a solution, but it offers a lodestone. Marshall Will Kane stands firm in his principles, facing down fear without sacrificing his ethics. We need more of that strength—stoic, respectful, principled manhood.

As George Will once said of a famous politician: “he’s a weak man’s idea of a strong man.” What we need is to redefine strength—not the brittle, performative kind, but the kind that faces adversity with emotionally balanced resilience and that marches towards a goal of shared solutions over personal victory.

Here’s a start:

1. Vulnerability builds authenticity: The bough that will not bend, breaks. The man that cannot admit fear is brittle. Embracing vulnerability—our emotions, fears, and mistakes make us human. Plus, we can’t change what we won’t admit.
2. Ask for help: In our suicide prevention work aimed at the military and first-responders, we’ve learned that carrying the identity of being “the solution” can prevent men from addressing their own struggles and seeking help. Men need to feel they can confront their challenges without having to be the hero. When you feel that you need to solve all your own problems or that you need to have outside validation, poor choices are likely to be made.
3. Admitting when you’re wrong: True strength lies in seeking truth, not just being right. Admitting when we’re wrong opens the door to real growth. (And people will like you a lot more!)
4. Take a page from the Gen Z’ers book. I am noticing a refreshing and hopeful difference in this age group—they truly seem inclusive and unfussed around other people’s race, color and gender. What could be more American than leaving others be, to freely live their own lives without judgement or denigration! If it holds, we could be a generation away from a much less fractious society. (We’ll see if their generosity extends to fixing systemic inequalities).

Of course, the most powerful immediate avenue to change would be via shutting down all social media. The damage these companies and products have done, the lives that have been lost and ruined, are uncountable. But, in the absence of that, consider taking your eyes off the screen and thumbs off the keyboard. What I can promise is, life without it means you sleep better and love more.

Give it a try for a month or two. —A real man could do it.