Masculinity Needs a New Story

Why men need a new narrative, and where we might find it

Sometimes, the universe just grabs you by the scruff of the neck and forces you to think about something. And this week I’ve been thinking a lot about men.

The way men behave, the stories we tell, and the stories we like to see and hear.

This whole strain of thought is thanks largely to the kind invitation of my friend Roxanne Hobbs of the Hobbs Consultancy to her brilliant Masculinity in the Workplace event, which was stuffed with brilliant speakers and surprising moments.

It was also the week in which:

• Gareth Southgate popped up on the Rest is Politics, talking mainly about neither football or politics, but about young men

• My marathon viewing session of Breaking Bad with one of my kids reached the point where Walter White really descends into irredeemable egotism

• The brilliant Professor Green was interviewed at the fantastic Marketing Society conference, resulting in some soundbites I’ll be referring to below…

• Ben Stokes, England Captain and an icon of both old and new masculinity, has dominated my thoughts as the Ashes kick off in Australia

• An old friend with a brilliant set of skills told me that he now considers himself permanently unemployable in his industry of choice on the basis of age and gender (he is only just 50 years old)

All of these threads are certainly related. The story of men is being rewritten, with huge potential but also dangers spilling into geopolitics, business, culture, and mental health.

Some of it is very ugly indeed, as the culture of men has always had potential for ugliness.

But after a week of listening to many voices, I’ve emerged with a new sense of curiosity and even hope.

In particular, I feel that if we start dedicating ourselves to writing new narratives for men, we have a real chance of making the world happier and safer for everyone.

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How We Got Here: When Story Threads Break

At the Hobbs Consultancy event, it was great hearing from Dr Rebecca Owens, an Evolutionary Psychologist passionate about male psychology, in conversation with the amazing young man Josh Sergeant, who has seen the manosphere from the inside.

Dr Rebecca talked about something familiar to all of us. Men’s competitiveness is perhaps a universal human trait, rooted in our timeless role in our society. But she also reminded me of something I’ve long believed: this birthright doesn’t destine us for obnoxious zero-sum games.

There’s no reason our urge to compete can’t be channelled into something pro-social.

The problem for many men is the growing lack of certainty about how and where to play out those instincts.

For mature men, we’ve seen the loss of workplaces that gave older men status as elders: factories, trades, unions, hierarchies where identity and respect came through collective achievement. James Bloodworth has written powerfully about how deindustrialisation removed not just jobs, but meaning and status. Zero-hours contracts or remote meetings don’t fill the same needs, and attempts to play these roles in communities are often met with suspicion.

For boys and teenage men, growing up without clear patterns to follow, there is a tidal wave of inadequacy, the same adolescent feelings, but now intensely magnified by a social media landscape. Young men search for a story in which they matter, and for some, the manosphere is waiting.

Josh Sergeant spoke about being drawn into these harmful spaces. He was keen to draw our gaze from the exploiters such as the ubiquitous Andrew Tate, and towards the young men who enter this world. These are often men seeking something to believe in about the world and about themselves. They carry shame and ambition together, and meet storytellers who “make them feel listened to, heard and considered.”

These narratives usually offer a simple journey of transformation: physical self-improvement, financial autonomy, social assertiveness. They feel more vivid than what these men hear at school or in the news. Perhaps they look absurd from the outside, but they feel powerful from the inside.

Obviously, these stories can lead to dangerous places. Laura Bates shows in Men Who Hate Women how extremism thrives on narrative: the story of the aggrieved, misunderstood man who finally sees “the truth.”

But in responding to this story factory, it’s easy to react with self-righteous anger and mock these young men’s confusion or simplistic aspirations. The issue is that reacting in that way can sometimes make you a part of the story, in a way you haven’t anticipated. One of the central narratives is that social institutions try to bring men (and their champions) down. Sometimes, the more we play that role, the more we confirm it.

And historically, you struggle to kill a story by squashing it, unless you are also replacing it with something else.

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The Stories We Tell About Men

So what stories can we tell about men?

I’ve never thought of myself as fitting most traditional masculine stereotypes - apart from a tendency to over-competitiveness in meaningless games…

But like a lot of videophiles, my favourite stories are full of masculinity gone awry, from Lawrence of Arabia to The Sopranos, Raging Bull to The Hustler. Generation after generation, men (and women) are drawn to these tragic stories where solitary strength becomes doom.

So I was interested in research by Channel 4 and NRG, exploring masculine roles and archetypes that resonate and perhaps offer a path forward. They identified three potentially constructive archetypes men are drawn to:

The Builder (actively working on improving themselves and their situation)
The Leader (beloved, trusted and respected members of their community)
The Provider (proudly able to take care of the ones they love)

What I love about this framework is that it doesn’t so much challenge the foundations of masculinity, as transform it. These are the same foundational traits that we see in traditional male heroes, (and indeed some of our anti-heroes, from Walter White to Elon Musk), but transformed into something constructive by connection to your community, self-knowledge, and admission of vulnerability.

This hit me hard listening to Professor Green, rapper and mental health advocate: “My son knows who I am. I owe it to him to make sure that I do too.” As a father of three, his point that dads owe it to their kids not just money but safety, companionship and stillness resonated deeply.

For me, vulnerability and self-reflection are essential to building new narratives that are compelling and pro-social.

The question isn’t “Should men build?” but whether they’ve considered whether what they build is truly useful, and whether they have the comfort with vulnerability to reveal the moments when everything falls down.

The question isn’t “Should men lead?” but what kind of leadership we want to show: vulnerable, inclusive, generous, rather than narcissistic and hollow.

The question isn’t “Should men provide?” but “What should men provide?”, perhaps broader sense of confidence, security and ambition, beyond the financial, that starts with self-knowledge.

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Moving Forward Together

The evolution of masculinity is fundamental to the future of workplaces, communities, and the world.

The story of masculinity feels stuck in a rocky middle chapter. Old certainty has gone, and wiping it away without replacing it isn’t working.

Men need spaces for emotional honesty and shared stories. But these spaces are still pretty rare. In workplaces, we rarely have networks focused on men’s emotional states. In local communities, men often lack open circles of support.

So story-based role models, whether real world or fictional, can only be a part of the picture. Society has got hard work to do at the grassroots.

But there are real opportunities for story to help turn the tide. Gareth Southgate captured this in his Dimbleby lecture:

“Young men are suffering. They are feeling isolated. They’re grappling with their masculinity and their place in society… Success isn’t a straight line or a single moment. Not everyone will win trophies. But everyone can live a life where they strive to improve, stay true to themselves, and make a difference.”

And for me it is captured even more powerfully in the amazing play, Dear England, which I strongly recommend you see if you can.

The happiness of men, and of our society, depends on changing the story.

Hopefully, we are on the edge of writing a new chapter.

If you’ve seen any great thinking on this, or heard any great stories, we’d love to hear them in the comments below…