afraid, even when fear is not only sensible, but possibly
life-preserving. It is paid every time a young man is
subjected to a father’s cruelty in the name of “toughening
him up.” It is paid every time a gentle boy’s soul is crushed
under the wheel of the male dominance hierarchy.
Perhaps it is no wonder that in these days when “toxic
masculinity” is a headline and a psychological diagnosis,
many men feel confused, hurt and angry. Is it not enough
to have paid this price? Are we also to be shamed now
for having done so? The problem is that in a society for
which warfare is no longer an ever-present threat, the
costs of such a constricted notion of male courage are
becoming increasingly clear. More and more we feel the
need for men whose courage is broader and deeper
than valour. We need men who show up courageously for
the hard times of parenting, the difficult conversations
on which true intimacy is founded, for the challenging
interactions between men that can reshape modern
masculinity in a kinder mould. We are looking for
something beyond physical bravery. We are asking for
men of moral, social, emotional and spiritual courage.
And the truth is, that is a harder ask. The courageous
course of action in combat is usually clear enough.
All one need do is steel one’s resolve and do it. That is
hard. But in the messy, complex world of relationships,
in the confusing, darkened terrain of self-knowledge,
knowing the courageous course is often not simple
at all, and following it is not rewarded with a medal
or even social recognition. And when it comes to
talk of the “courage to be vulnerable,” what is the
old-school male to make of it? He already throttled
that possibility in himself on the way to becoming
the man he is. It was expected. It was necessary.When my grandfather’s time came to die, long after the
war, in a hospital bed as his lungs failed from a lifetime
of smoking, he was afraid. My brothers and I, barely
adults at the time, went to visit him. As he opened his
arms for us to come to him, we saw that fear in his
eyes; we saw his need to be held. We sidled awkwardly
into his embrace, embarrassed by this display of
vulnerability in a man we knew as distant and irascible,
impossible to be close to. I look back with regret on our
callowness. Yet the truth was, it was too late. Those
other kinds of courage, which no-one told him about,
no-one asked for, would remain unknown to him, and
his death would be a lonely one. Men today are angry
at what feels like a betrayal. But the true betrayal lies
long in the past, when they were first asked to give
up the best of themselves to become warriors.ESSAYS 11