Since Connell (Connell, R. W. 1995. Masculinities. Cambridge, UK: Polity Press) developed the idea of hegemonic masculinity, debates about boys, men and violence have increasingly become framed through the language of “masculinities.” Governments fund programmes on healthy masculinities, charities run workshops on positive masculinities, and academics speak at length about toxic masculinities. The intention is often well-meaning. Yet the concept itself may now be hindering rather than helping serious discussion about how boys become responsible men or how societies reduce violence against women and children.

The first problem is that the language of masculinities is so broad and elastic that it explains almost everything and therefore almost nothing. Aggression can be labelled masculinity. Stoicism can be labelled masculinity. Competitiveness, emotional reserve, risk-taking, protectiveness, fatherhood, sexual behaviour and even career choices are routinely folded into the same conceptual umbrella. Once a term becomes infinitely expandable, it loses practical usefulness. Policymakers and practitioners need clarity. They need to know what behaviours are harmful, what social conditions produce them, and what interventions work. Talking vaguely about masculinities often substitutes moral abstraction for concrete analysis.  

Then there is the association with the word ‘toxic;’ a proposition that posits the notion that ‘toxic masculinity’ is an inherent trait that men have de natura and clouds serious discussion about the issues facing boys as to how to become good men. Too many boys when hearing the word masculinity also hear the word toxic. The noun ‘masculinity’, as my colleague Mark Brooks suggests, has now become the adjective masculinity. Boys too often switch off when asked to engage in a discussion on masculinity but light up when talking about the social burdens they face - one of which is to listen to discussions about their masculinity.  While discussions of masculinity are often intended to explore these same concerns and social constructions of gender, it is clear that the term is not widely understood or interpreted in a consistent way. Instead, it is frequently read to imply fixed characteristics. 

This could harm rather than aid the conversation, as men and boys disengage in discussions about their lives and issues because language is seen as prescriptive or accusatory. This is particularly problematic because in order to effectively address the social challenges affecting boys and men, they must be at the centre of these discussions. While terminology may be well-intentioned, we need to consider what language most effectively engages boys and men themselves and ensures they feel invited and a part of the conversation rather than excluded from it.

Second, the framework encourages the belief that male violence is primarily a cultural or psychological problem rooted in male identity itself. This risks obscuring the far more important drivers of violence and dysfunction: family instability, childhood trauma, educational failure, addiction, poverty, unemployment and social isolation. Boys who grow up without security, attachment or discipline are statistically more likely to struggle later in life. Those struggles may manifest in crime, violence, mental ill-health or self-destructive behaviour. But these outcomes are not simply products of “masculinity.” They are frequently products of neglect, disadvantage and failed institutions.

Indeed, one of the weaknesses of masculinity discourse is that it can unintentionally pathologise ordinary male behaviour. Traits such as competitiveness, physicality or stoicism are not inherently dangerous. In many contexts they are socially valuable. Resilience under pressure, courage, risk tolerance and the capacity to endure hardship have historically been essential virtues in fathers, workers, soldiers and community leaders. A society that constantly teaches boys to regard traditional masculine instincts with suspicion may produce confusion rather than maturity.

Boys do not become good men simply by rejecting masculinity or ‘choosing’ a particular type of masculinity from a smorgasbord laid before them. They become good men through guidance, responsibility, boundaries and purpose. Historically, societies understood this clearly. Boys were expected to grow into adulthood by serving others: family, community, nation and future generations. Boys became men by going through various rites of passage and ‘earning’ the right to be seen as men. The emphasis was not on interrogating masculine identity but on cultivating virtues such as self-control, duty, honesty and sacrifice. Those virtues are not uniquely masculine or feminine; they are human virtues. Framing the discussion through masculinities can distract from this deeper moral task.

In recent years we have discarded a host of words we decided collectively were derogatory, inadequate, improperly descriptive or just misleading.  The word, “masculinity,” needs to be similarly consigned to history.

A healthier framework would move away from ideological language about masculinities and towards a simpler question: what helps boys grow into responsible men? How does a boy successfully achieve manhood? The answers are remarkably consistent across cultures and generations. Boys need stable families, meaningful education, positive male role models, clear boundaries, opportunities for achievement and a sense of purpose larger than themselves. They need to learn self-control, empathy and responsibility. And they need a society willing to believe that masculinity, properly formed, is not a threat to civilisation but one of the forces that sustains it.  

The challenge is therefore not to deconstruct masculinity endlessly, but to create good men.

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