Movies and TV shows—and this includes both your favorites and mine—mostly exist to remind us that ours is a man’s world. Popular entertainment in general, regardless of medium or genre or even the noble intentions of the storytellers, is almost invariably patriarchal propaganda. But it doesn’t have to be that way.
Since at least as far back as the adventures of Odysseus, men have used fantasy narratives to contextualize ourselves as the solitary heroic protagonist of the world around us—a world that would be appreciably better off if only our judgment weren’t questioned or our actions thwarted by those of inferior hearts and minds. In the Book of Genesis, God creates man from the dust, gives him dominion over the Earth, then provides him with a “helper”—Eve—who proves considerably less than helpful when she defiantly feeds from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil and spoils Paradise for everyone.
Such are the stories we’ve been hearing for literally thousands of years, and the reality we live in today is very much shaped by the presumption of patriarchy they propagandize. In 1949, this way of telling stories—the Hero’s Journey—was codified by comparative mythologist Joseph Campbell in The Hero with a Thousand Faces, and adopted by Hollywood as the blueprint for the blockbuster. From our Westerns (Dances with Wolves) to our policiers (Dirty Harry) to our space operas (Star Wars) to our spy thrillers (James Bond) to our teen comedies (Ferris Bueller’s Day Off) to our superhero universes (Iron Man) to our mob dramas (The Sopranos) to our sitcoms (Two and a Half Men), it’s a man’s world, baby—with the rest of you there to either support us or (foolishly) stand in our way.
It’s not that there’s anything inherently wrong with escapist entertainment. It isn’t fantasy the genre that’s the problem, or even the Hero’s Journey story model, but rather the near-universal underlying patterns and motifs in our popular fictions that have unconsciously supported—that have surreptitiously sold us—the fantasy of patriarchal hegemony. As such, white men in particular have been conditioned by these cultural narratives to see ourselves as the central heroic figure in the Epic of Me—even our storytellers themselves:
While accepting the award for Outstanding Directing for a Limited or Anthology Series or Movie for his work on The Queen’s Gambit, Scott Frank brushed off the “get off the stage” music not once but three times, reading a prepared speech from two full-length pages he’d shoved into his pocket and blowing past his allotted 45 seconds to speak for three minutes and 28 seconds—more than four and a half times as long as he was supposed to.
Viewers couldn’t have asked for a more perfect embodiment of white male privilege and entitlement as a visibly annoyed Frank reacted to the orchestra’s attempts to play him off by saying, “Really? No,” and making a dismissive hand gesture. The second time they started playing, he said, “Seriously, stop the music,” again waving his hand as if he were shooing away a fly and pressing on. The third time, he insisted, “I’m almost done.” Each time, when he commanded them to stop playing the music, they actually stopped the music. Who knew it was that easy?
Bonnie Stiernberg, “Those ‘Queen’s Gambit’ Emmy Speeches Epitomized Exactly What’s Wrong With Hollywood,” InsideHook, September 20, 2021
Whether we’re aware of them or not, men have certain expectations about how the world should work: that it should work for us. After all, God gave us, not you, dominion over all living things and natural resources on Earth. But when reality conflicts with those birthrights, we grow frustrated, and rather than questioning the stories we’ve been told about our place in the world, we tell more of the same self-mythologizing horseshit—to assure ourselves, and others, of our God-given entitlements, of our singular heroism. Consider, for example, the overwhelming popularity—ten entries and counting—of the testosterone-charged Fast & Furious franchise:
These films use the concrete landscape to assert individuality and a refusal to knuckle under to authority. With the exception of Brian and perhaps Roman, these inner-city car racers don’t want to be reintegrated into society. They race cars to gain status and money, to impress sexy women, and to defy the police—just like [celebrated American NASCAR driver] Junior Johnson and the Dukes of Hazzard. But, like the conformists and suburbanites they reject, they act like everything in nature exists to be consumed and exploited.
robin, “The Fast and Furious Films and Mad Max Fury Road,” Ecocinema, Media, and the Environment [blog], September 20, 2019
Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel) famously makes his gang say grace before they eat, an utterly meaningless gesture since, unlike obeying the law, it costs him nothing to do so, yet it nonetheless speaks volumes about his patriarchal values. He and his crew aren’t enlightened antiheroes as they believe, merely entitled gearheads who proudly and explicitly live their lives “a quarter mile at a time,” because to think beyond that would require a sense of empathy for those outside their range of awareness, as well as compel a sober consideration for the long-term consequences of their, to put it generously, socially irresponsible behaviors.
(And if you’re inclined to dismiss Dom’s worldview as the patently absurd pseudophilosophy of a one-dimensional action-movie street racer—nothing worth taking seriously—it’s worth remembering that Facebook co-founder and CEO Mark Zuckerberg’s operating motto is “Move fast and break things,” which sounds like exactly the sort of iconoclastic rallying cry you’d expect to hear Dom growl… until you realize the thing Zuckerberg might’ve broken while becoming the fifth wealthiest person in the world is democracy itself.)
Everyday Heroes
I know my share of Scott Franks and Dominic Torettos and—above all—Charlie Harpers, Charlie Sheen’s selfish, middle-aged manboy from Two and a Half Men. That last type are the worst; those are the “everyday heroes”—the dickheads who expect to be celebrated for their smug self-interest, because they’ve been trained by a lifelong diet of “loveable lout” sitcoms and Kevin Smith movies to think acting like a childish asshole is somehow anti-establishment, and who in turn view adult responsibility not as a privilege but a sucker’s choice. Grow up, you say? Make me.
Years ago in L.A., when I was still networking my way into the industry, I had a colleague and friend who was a textbook everyday hero. He and I were in postproduction together, and he would help pass the long hours by doing spot-on impressions of everyone we worked with, always portraying them in the least-flattering light. Like his sitcom counterparts, he was an eminently likable guy with a caustic wit who could turn any experience or encounter, no matter how seemingly banal, into a laugh-till-it-hurts anecdote—like how he got revenge on the guy who’d cut him off in traffic that morning by tailing him to his freeway exit, then speeding up alongside him just as the driver was preparing to merge right, blocking his access to the ramp and cackling like the Joker as he did it.
Or the time, in a borrowed car, he ran a red-light camera. When the ticket showed up in the mailbox of the friend who’d lent him the car—without forewarning—the owner told Everyday Hero that he was going to have to come into traffic court with him to explain the situation, pay the fine, and take the points against his license. But Everyday Hero had a better idea. He persuaded the owner to go to the Glendale courthouse by himself, show the judge Everyday Hero’s photo on the citation and simply say, “That’s not me, and I don’t know who it is.” When the owner hedged—he didn’t want to lie in court—Everyday Hero insisted that all he had to say was, “I don’t know how whoever this is wound up in my car, but your own photo proves it’s clearly not me.” Easy as that—just keep a straight face.
Wouldn’t you know the fucking gambit succeeded, and Everyday Hero howled gleefully as he retold this story about getting one over on the Man. (I wonder how that same swindle would’ve played if either Everyday Hero or his car-owning buddy had been people of color? That they pulled it off is probably owed more to their being Caucasian than clever, same as all of Ferris Bueller’s celebrated fast ones.) This guy was full of odes to his own ingenuity, and when he couldn’t outsmart (read: lie or cheat) his way through a jam, it was only on account of the idiocy or incompetence of someone else.
You can’t, after all, have a heroic narrative without a villain, and what a rogues’ gallery this guy had to contend with! Every postproduction supervisor he’d ever worked for was a “know-nothing schmuck,” à la Bill Lumbergh, hence the reason he was still dubbing videotapes and fetching coffee for film editors and not cutting features himself. Every ex-girlfriend, a “psychotic bitch”—particularly the ones guilty of the least-acceptable transgression: encouraging him to move out of his parents’ backyard casita in Granada Hills.
Oh, and the reason he was living in that casita? Because he’d been evicted from his apartment in North Hollywood after it had become a haven for vermin, a health hazard he attributed to the building’s management for “doing fuck-all” about rodent-proofing the HVAC ducts, and not the expired food he’d left to molder on every countertop or the litterboxes overflowing onto the linoleum with desiccated cat turds.
He’d positioned himself as the lone voice of reason in a world full of idiots, and every episodic anecdote he shared so colorfully was designed to support that overarching narrative. Once I understood that, his little yarns became considerably less amusing—and eventually even anathema. It would be statistically improbable, for instance, for every woman he’d ever dated to be clinically psychotic, so he was either altogether full of shit or, alternatively, possessed ruinously bad judgment, but neither option reflected particularly well on him.
Only he didn’t see a self-delusional liar or self-destructive misogynist when he looked in the mirror. Instead, he saw an everyday hero who would be a perfect catch if only those women had recognized his potential; who’d be a successful film editor if only his shithead employers would give him the opportunities he so rightfully deserved; who wouldn’t be stuck living with his parents if only every landlord in L.A. wasn’t a greedy, shortcutting scumbag. And he told those stories so goddamn often, he’d long since convinced himself of his own heroic virtue. He’s one of many, many everyday heroes I’ve known who’ve never once uttered those three little words:
Maybe it’s me?
Reality Check
At an event for Climate Week NYC last month hosted by the New York Society for Ethical Culture—and I promise this is germane to the conversation at hand—environmentalist Bill McKibben suggested an intriguing premise as to why it is women are overwhelmingly leading the global campaigns for climate justice, carbon drawdown, and a Green New Deal:
It’s possible that women are less prone to tell themselves stories that try and relieve them of the responsibility of dealing with reality. Because reality is what we have to deal with. And the oil companies and whatever are dealing in fantasy now and have been for a long time, trying to convince us that everything is all right. And instead we’ve needed people with enormous sense of empathy and—and—a sense of and a talent for solidarity, maybe above all.
You know, we can’t solve this crisis as individuals; we’re past the point where we can make the climate math work one Tesla at a time, one vegan dinner at a time. The most important thing an individual can do is be a little less of an individual—to join together with others in movements large enough to make things happen. And those movements are so wonderful! I think of things like the Sunrise Movement, and its great leader Varshini Prakash who I’ve known since she was working hard to divest the University of Massachusetts from fossil fuels. One thinks of Greta Thunberg and all the thousands of other great Greta Thunbergs there are scattered around the planet leading high school and junior high school students. And I think of wonderful, wonderful colleagues like May Boeve, [Executive Director of 350.org]. . . .
I’m reminded once again that it’s mostly women who are involved and in charge. Partly that’s demographic—among other things, women are better at living longer than men are, but mostly it’s because of this constellation of qualities: about empathy, and solidarity, and commitment, and above all that bone-dry understanding of reality that lets them reliably take the lead.
McKibben, Bill. “Together We Rise: The Power of Female Leadership to Help Solve the Climate Crisis.” New York Society for Ethical Culture video, 1:02:11. September 20, 2021. Emphasis mine.
Gee, that’s one of those observations that’s so keen and, in hindsight, so self-evident, I felt both elated by the epiphany it prompted and embarrassed that it’s taken me over forty years to acknowledge, let alone accept, the universal truth of it. And yet when I playback the highlights reel of my own life, at any given obstacle or setback—including the quarantine of 2020—my first instinct has almost invariably been to waste time on If only… scenarios, whereas my wife, ever the problem-solving pragmatist, pivots on a dime without breaking her stride. “That’s not how it is,” she’ll say. “This is how it is, so this is what we have to deal with.” While men entertain fairy tales, women face facts.
As such, when women tell stories about men, they often bring “that bone-dry understanding of reality,” as McKibben identifies it, to their work. I’m reminded of one of my favorite shows of 2021, Kevin Can F**k Himself, a supremely creative mashup of the multicamera-sitcom and prestige-drama formats, in which Annie Murphy plays a working-class woman from Worcester, Massachusetts, unhappily married to fun-lovin’, self-involved schemer who, over the course of the season, goes to war with his neighbors over a missing Bill Belichick hoodie, converts his basement into an ill-planned escape-room attraction, and throws a rager on their wedding anniversary in which Murphy’s Allison is left to play dutiful hostess to his loudmouth friends. “You might think you’re an everyday hero,” she tells him at her breaking point, “but you’re really just a dick.”
Amen. Kevin is a dick—though at least his creator, Valerie Armstrong, knows it, which is more than can be said for Dominic Toretto (Fast & Furious), Charlie Harper (Two and a Half Men), or Wade Watts (Ready Player One). Because when men tell stories about ourselves, those narratives mostly just serve to absolve us from accepting reality, either by lionizing macho antiheroes who refuse play by society’s rules (action movies and superhero franchises being the prime offenders), or celebrating manchildren whose habitual refusal to take responsibility and/or behave ethically, though comically exasperating, is ultimately what we love about them (Barney Stinson on How I Met Your Mother, Doug Heffernan on The King of Queens, Alan Garner in The Hangover).
And when we tell stories about women? Hoo boy. Our heroines primarily function as wish-fulfilment fantasies, extensions of the same old patriarchal propaganda, even when the storytellers consider themselves enlightened:
[Scott] Frank wasn’t the only Queen’s Gambit winner to deliver an embarrassing speech, either. After the show took home the award for Outstanding Limited or Anthology Series, producer William Horberg delivered a cringe-y speech in which he objectified his lead actress while praising the way the show fights sexism in the same breath. “What can I say? You brought the sexy back to chess, and you inspired a whole generation of girls and young women to realize that patriarchy has no defense against our queens,” he said.
The implication that stories about women need to be “sexy”—even when they’re about women whose accomplishments (like, say, being a genius chess player) have absolutely nothing to do with their physical appearance—is, of course, the very definition of patriarchy.
Stiernberg, “Those ‘Queen’s Gambit’ Emmy Speeches Epitomized Exactly What’s Wrong With Hollywood,” InsideHook
Damn right. Which is why we need an appreciably greater percentage of our stories—novels, movies, television shows—coming from the pens of female, BIPOC, and LGBTQIA+ writers who can provide other voices, and alternative narratives. And while that is happening, it isn’t by itself going to be enough to reform the patriarchal propaganda on which our culture is predicated. Straight white male scribes very much have a role to play, but it requires summoning the moral imagination to retire—and in some cases renounce—the stories we’ve been taught to believe and retell.
Writers like myself can start by worrying less about creating “strong female characters,” an often-well-intentioned creative instinct that has a history of being problematic ground for us, in favor of telling better stories about men, the kind that challenge the “great-man” narrative that has unconsciously influenced everything from our scripture to our textbooks to our literature to our on-screen entertainment. That means confronting some comforting myths—and the uncomfortable truths they reveal about us.
Veteran television journalist Shelley Ross recently challenged CNN anchor Chris Cuomo to expand his own moral imagination when she shared her account of being sexually harassed by him in 2005—an incident he admitted to in writing almost immediately after it occurred—and concluded her op-ed with this call to action:
I’m not asking for Mr. Cuomo to become the next casualty in this continuing terrible story. I hope he stays at CNN forever if he chooses. I would, however, like to see him journalistically repent: agree on air to study the impact of sexism, harassment and gender bias in the workplace, including his own, and then report on it. He could host a series of live town hall meetings, with documentary footage, produced by women with expert consultants. Call it “The Continuing Education of Chris Cuomo” and make this a watershed moment instead of another stain on the career of one more powerful male news anchor.
Shelley Ross, “Chris Cuomo Sexually Harassed Me. I Hope He’ll Use His Power to Make Change.”, Opinion, New York Times, September 24, 2021
I wholeheartedly second that suggestion! Let Cuomo keep his job (and I say that as a Cuomo agnostic, by the way), but he ought to absolutely agree to use his considerable platform to its fullest extent to tell new stories—anti-patriarchy stories. He doesn’t need to have all the answers, merely do what journalists are sworn to do: ask difficult questions—even (and especially) of himself. Storytelling helped build the patriarchy, and it can absolutely help dismantle it, too—provided it is conducted with sufficient moral imagination. Why “cancel” Chris Cuomo when he can be converted to the cause as a powerful ally?
Same goes for Scott Frank and William Horberg, both rightfully called out for their tone-deafness by Bonnie Stiernberg. Male screenwriters and novelists can use fiction to teach men—and themselves—to better confront reality, to demonstrate that the most important thing an individual can do at this pivotal moment in history, per Bill McKibben, is be a little less of an individual—“to join together with others in movements large enough to make things happen.” Heroism isn’t a solitary journey, but rather a solidary mindset. Compassion is heroic. Competence is heroic. So’s honesty. And humility. And critical introspection.
Jason Sudeikis’ Ted Lasso embodies those qualities. So does Seth MacFarlane’s Ed Mercer from The Orville. Those are two straight white cisgendered men my age making a good-faith effort to challenge the reductive portrayals of masculinity in our pop culture, along with the individualistic and patriarchal values they represent. Through their refusal to submit to reassuring archetypes, Sudeikis and MacFarlane offer a more hopeful kind of reassurance: that there is a wellspring of largely untapped creative opportunity in the Epic of We. That’s a heroes’ journey worth undertaking.
The epitome of the “Everyday Hero” is, of course, Trump himself
From his boasts of molesting women to his “refusal to follow the rules” (because he was too lazy to learn them and never faced any consequence for breaking them) to his insistence that the world is rigged against him (rigged AGAINST the rich white man!), he’s the poster boy for this essay
In fact, he’s the greatest proof that this mindset is so dangerous it is a literal threat to all of existence
Look at him “standing up to the world” at the Paris Accord and tell me that last sentence is an exaggeration
You could write a book about Trump viewed through this lens, and have to cut material to keep it a reasonable size
And that “Everyday Hero” is PRECISELY why his followers love and literally worship him (second item https://www.patheos.com/blogs/slacktivist/2021/09/24/feeling-unknown-and-youre-all-alone/ )
>Seth MacFarlane’s Ed Mercer from The Orville
Are you and the guys at Mythcreants watching the same series? I mean, your opinions are about 180 degrees apart!
Absolutely, Dell — Trump is the apotheosis of toxic patriarchy! I even at one point during the writing of this post thought I might delve into that, but in the interest of keeping the essay a reasonable length (and also a desire on my part to avoid political topicality this month, which can admittedly get tedious and preachy), I opted against it. But I’m glad you brought him up here, because I often use the comments section to feature “deleted scenes,” if you like — to address thoughts germane to the wider discussion that I’d nonetheless deemed superfluous to the thesis itself. (I almost always struggle with length, because my instincts seem to be to write long. I’m trying to train myself to resist tangential detours!)
Yes, Trump — as a multimedia persona — gives his fans the same vicarious thrill of patriarchal hypermasculinity that movie-franchise action heroes like Dominic Toretto provide. His m.o., and indeed very existence, affirm the patriarchal narrative that underpins civilized society. He is very much a Digital Age product of that time-honored worldview, but he also understands (if only intuitively) how to exploit it to elicit a powerful emotional reaction in people — mostly entitled white males. I wrote about how Trump manipulates narrativity in “The End,” and also, in “Changing the Narrative,” how the popular stories we’ve spent a lifetime consuming — particularly the messiah narratives of superhero fiction and apocalyptic wish-fulfillment of our dystopian fantasies — conditioned us to accept (and even support) his presidential candidacy.
Trump lays bare the intellectual and moral bankruptcy of the “great man” narrative and the presumption of both patriarchy and white supremacy on which it is predicated. Just like every proudly self-identifying conservative I know, Trump is cut from the same cloth as Frank Miller’s psycho-libertarian interpretation of Batman: They’re all “angry tough guys who break things and push other people around yet always see themselves as the victim” (Fred Van Lente, “DARK KNIGHT RETURNS: A Storytelling Landmark — Whose Cracks Show 35 Years Later,” 13th Dimension [blog], March 20, 2021).
But that archetype — and this is something I wrote about in my review of Rambo: Last Blood — feels increasingly less relevant in our present era of climate disruption, social injustice, and wealth inequality, and I think we’re seeing a cultural worldview shift away from individualistic and patriarchal values in favor of communal interest and sympathetic coexistence. I do. That certainly explains the overwhelming popularity of the Build Back Better Act and its social-safety-net provisions, and it also accounts for the new trend of “radical kindness” in our television content, like Ted Lasso, Schitt’s Creek, The Good Place, The Last Man on Earth, All Creatures Great and Small, and — yes — The Orville, too.
On the subject of The Orville: Yes, I am aware our learned colleagues over at Mythcreants, whom I greatly respect, are not fans! That’s part of the reason I specifically stipulated that MacFarlane is making a good-faith effort to challenge heroic archetypes, because I do recognize the qualms some folks have expressed about The Orville, particularly with respect to the backstory of Ed and Kelly’s marriage. I don’t dismiss those critiques, and I would even submit that the Mythcreants have studied the show a lot closer than I have! I’m simply judging The Orville on the basis of its moral imagination, and not whether it’s morally immaculate, which I’ll concede is open for debate.
When I look at a character like Captain Ed Mercer, I see neither a hyperproficient hero nor a sleazy womanizer or unapologetic buffoon. Is Ed the best starship captain in the fleet? No. But is he honest and qualified for his job. Yeah. Especially in this era of ultra-powered superheroes, I find it refreshing that a genre show features a protagonist who is neither superpowered nor brooding. He’s competent, he’s responsible, he has an irreverent sense of humor (he doesn’t take himself seriously), and he doesn’t presume to have all the answers, frequently interrogating his own ethical instincts in a given dilemma, and never assuming his principles are apodictic or even the right fit for every situation. I just kinda like that.
To my view, MacFarlane — at least as far as that character is concerned — is making a laudable effort to eschew archetypal tropes. How successful he is at that is certainly subjective, and we’ll have to see how The Orville ages in order to better assess its “wokeness,” for lack of a better word — especially taking into account the quantum cultural strides we seem to be making right now re: our collective and individual awakening of how privilege and racism are woven into every facet of our daily lives — but any show at this moment that puts a premium on prescriptive stories, intelligent problem-solving, and pragmatic optimism is one I’m willing to extend a little grace, even and especially when it’s imperfect. If MacFarlane is making a sincere attempt to be a productive part of the conversation, then his is a voice worth hearing. I certainly hope — and I admit I do not know — he fills his writers room with scribes from all walks of life.
Thanks for popping by, pal! I always appreciate your productive contributions to these conversations!
Sometimes, we are spot on with our thoughts and opinions. Other times, hmmm. But I’m always intrigued by your logical progression of thoughts.
We don’t have to agree to support one another, Jacqui! I appreciate that you took the time to read, consider, and comment!
Dickhead…hmmm, tell us how you really feel, Sean. : )
Although I take exception to your fairy tale metaphor. It’s one of the places where you can find lots of female characters who aren’t two-dimensional male wet dreams.
Perhaps the solution to the child-man characters is better masculine role models. The problem there is that our society is deeply divided on what a good masculine role model is. My version is likely to be far more traditional than yours.
I like the idea of putting it all out there and letting people decide what kind of man or woman they want to be. Does your idea of an effective male role model include men who are gay? Then write a story showing a good, gay man who’s a hero. Or do you prefer more of a family man? Okay, then write that character into the protag role.
I dislike the whole oversimplification bit where only a certain type of person is a hero and the rest are demonized. But I also realize that I seem to be in a very minority position. “Hate speech” is being used very loosely to demonize anyone who disagrees with the speaker, whether on the right or left.
But I still believe that truth will out–eventually. I think it’s impossible to make inherently unattractive behaviors (like racism) look attractive long term. So I’m pretty anti-censorship, except in the case of info provided to children, who I think deserve some protection from adults.
I mean, who really wants to laud a man-child? Probably only people who think there’s a buck in it for them. Real heroes (who aren’t restricted to any particular profession) touch those who know them. They spread goodness to those around them. I just don’t think that sort of thing can be faked long-term. YMMV. : )
Hey, Cathleen!
Yes, I simply used “fairy tale” as a catch-all phrase for stories that reassure us of certain values, the way action movies exist to reassure men of their virility and masculinity, and sitcoms reassure us that immaturity isn’t a character flaw but rather a lifestyle choice. But I would concur with your point above: As a genre, fairy tales have historically been used to champion feminine energy and female ingenuity. If you haven’t seen it, I absolutely loved the new Hamilton-ized version of Cinderella with Camila Cabello from Amazon Studios, which does an excellent job of staying true to the story’s fundamental message but updating some of its gender politics to better reflect the times.
With regard to your other point, about the need for better masculine role models, this particular essay builds upon ideas I developed in “The Ted Lasso Way” (from August 2021), which itself expanded on notions first expressed in “Here Lies Buffy the Vampire Slayer” (from March 2021); in that sense, the three essays form a sort of “thematic trilogy.” When I was writing “Here Lies Buffy,” I’d been wrestling with this idea that straight white male writers ought to take up the challenge of presenting better straight white male characters in their fictions, and I was almost finished with the essay when, happenstantially, I started watching Ted Lasso (which is why the show gets a brief mention in that post). Then a few months later, after I’d had a chance to finish and digest Ted Lasso, I devoted an entire essay to why he is exactly the kind of hero I’d called for in the Buffy post. And then when I heard the great Bill McKibben speak a few weeks ago, and he talked about how men tell ourselves stories that absolve us from facing reality in contrast with the more sober perspective women take, it crystalized the ideas I’ve been exploring here this past year — hence “Patriarchal Propaganda.” That’s a little background for you on how the post was developed.
All of that is to say that we have a generation of middle-aged men who’ve decided they’d rather be boys than mentor any — they’ve stubbornly refused to close the lid on their toyboxes — and it’s left a lot of young boys and girls without positive male role models to look to, be them flesh-and-blood or fictional. That’s a problem — one that I’ve been studying here this year.
I think you are absolutely correct in pointing out that it is hard to valorize patently ugly behavior, but stories — especially when they are entertaining — have a way of unconsciously conditioning us to accept questionable notions as universal truths. I can point to no more personal example than when the murder of George Floyd last year compelled an introspective inquiry as to how I’d been trained by buddy-cop movies and crime procedurals to basically view the police as above reproach. (And I’m far from the only middle-aged white male writer to reach the same uncomfortable conclusion.) It really made me reflect on my privilege in a way I hadn’t ever previously — and I consider myself an enlightened liberal! And when I started to take stock of all the movies that had influenced me as a kid — Lethal Weapon and Die Hard and NYPD Blue — I was kind of sick to my stomach at the thought of all of them. There is a lot of ugly behavior in those productions that was systematically normalized for me. (And again: I’m a fucking bleeding-heart liberal!)
Accordingly, part of what I’ve been doing on this blog since last year is saying, “Hey, I loved cop shows and superhero movies and dystopian fantasies and ’80s teen comedies like Ferris Bueller and License to Drive, too… but maybe it’s time to discuss retiring them? Maybe they’ve just outlived their usefulness, and are now keeping us from where we need to go?” I think these stories inculcate us to a mindset that is no longer serving us well, and that isn’t leaving us equipped to meet the unprecedented challenges of the 21st century. I think it’s time to tell some new stories, and to exercise greater moral imagination in our storytelling in general.
Anyway, Cathleen, I certainly don’t pretend to have all the answers, I’m merely interested in asking the questions, and seeing where they lead me! These essays are intellectual exercises in an ongoing project, but they are only valuable insofar as they inspire the engagement and feedback of other curious and compassionate minds like yourself. So, thanks for being part of my own little “hero’s journey”; I am much obliged to you.
Sean
Aww, Sean–you’re always such a gentleman; I love reading your blogs. It’s always a good thing to think deeply about things of importance. The first class I took in college was intro philosophy, and being thoughtful and deliberate about choices was my big take-away of Socrates. Because if you don’t consciously choose your thoughts and opinions, it’s entirely possible the choice will be made for you, and you’ll only realize it much later.
So thanks for encouraging all of us to reach for Socratic ideals. : )
Thanks for those kind words, Cathleen. When I was a young college student at CUNY, I took a media-studies class, and it was my first real introduction to the concept that the visual and narrative arts could be manipulated not merely for entertainment, but to communicate a lot of bad, even dangerous, ideas. That was eye-opening.
In retrospect, however, I think I mostly assigned that kind of creative abuse to advertisers and political propagandists, not folks as virtuous as storytellers! I was too taken with film and literature at that point — I dual-majored in cinema studies and English — to accept that our popular stories were full of questionable values. I think I viewed fiction as an inherently good thing, so long as the audience fulfilled its role of analyzing the story and extracting a takeaway moral from it. Every story, I believed, had a useful nugget of wisdom about how the world worked, and/or how life should be lived.
Then when I got to Hollywood, I met wonderful mentors who equipped me with all sorts of storytelling tools — the kind I wrote about in my very first blog post — and my managers and agents encouraged me to write to the fullest extent of my commercial imagination. And though it didn’t occur to me at the time, because I was so young and hungry, writing commercially often meant (unconsciously) leaning on a lot of unchallenged tropes and conventions.
It was only after I started blogging regularly, really forcing myself to learn (not merely teach) concepts like postnarrativity and forensic fandom, as well as attempt to understand the dominance of the superhero- and nostalgia-industrial complexes, that I came to turn a truly critical eye on the stories we tell through our popular entertainment. And then when Vice President Gore introduced me to the concept of moral imagination, it all kind of clicked for me. So, now when I read books and watch movies/television, I mostly just scrutinize them for their moral imagination above all. This is not to say I don’t appreciate applied craft and artistry, but it has to be in service to moral storytelling, else we aren’t making the world any better.
Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been beguiled by the mystical power of narrativity; the ghost stories my father used to tell me this time of year were what inspired me to be a writer of supernatural fiction and magical realism. But I never fully appreciated the crucial sociocultural role storytellers fulfill, and that with the privilege of telling stories comes a profound responsibility to tell them ethically — to understand that stories affect the way people see the world, which in turn affects their actions and behavior within the world, which then changes the world accordingly — for good or for ill. Stories change the world. The fictional realms we as artists create very much influence the actual world we as human beings all share. As such, we have a social responsibility to think long and hard about the values — the conscious and especially unconscious messaging — embedded in the fiction we produce. It isn’t enough to write with commercial imagination; we must write with moral imagination. These days, that’s the agenda this blog exists to promote.
Thanks for always helping me think more deeply about these issues, Cathleen — for your invaluable contributions to my work here. I appreciate you.
SPC
What a great read — thank you!
So much of this rings true for me. My husband and I have a very egalitarian marriage — and since we met in college we have always been equals.
Since he is an honest, thoughtful man my husband has shared with me how he feels “responsible” for all of our well-being because he’s “the man in the family.” This is directly from his boyhood in Texas and South Carolina and I know that he deals with this all the time. Yet in real life we share things equally in terms of responsibilities and duties —
I think that the hero man and the princess girl (notice “man”and “girl”) can be inspiring for little children to a certain extent. But they have been taken to an unhealthy extreme in our culture — especially through our entertainment.
Hey, Jackie!
Yes, my wife and I met in college, as well, and started dating at nineteen years old. It’s fair to say we both felt fully mature at the time, but looking back over our quarter century together, I recognize now just how young we were! It can be advantageous for a couple to enter adulthood hand in hand, and to share many of the formative experiences of that particular stage of life: graduating college, starting a career, moving away from home, moving in together, etc. Building a life together is less complicated, I would venture, than merging two individual adult lives and “retrofitting” them for coexistence. It becomes harder to compromise the longer we’re single, and the more accustomed we’ve grown to doing what we want when we want, without every having to explain or justify or adjust those behaviors. That’s not to say such a dramatic lifestyle shift isn’t worth it for the right person — it absolutely is! — simply a bit more challenging once you’re in your thirties or forties and have established patterns and habits for yourself.
On the other hand… one of the potential pitfalls of a romantic partnership rooted in youth is that it can become easy after so many years to take that other person for granted, because they’ve always been there, so it’s important to show everyday acts of consideration for your spouse — consistent small gestures — because it not only demonstrates your appreciation, it exercises it. By consciously practicing courtesy and kindness, you’re not just reminding her how much she means to you, you’re reminding yourself.
And I agree with your assessment about the “hero” and “princess” archetypes: They have a place — in children’s literature, which traditionally aims to inspire the nascent imagination of kids and teach very basic life lessons. And the “unhealthy extreme” you astutely identify is owed to the entertainment-industrial complex’s present program of taking children’s characters — like superheroes and Transformers and Masters of the Universe — and warping them into endless exercises in pattern recognition and nostalgic marketing campaigns aimed squarely at middle-aged adults. One need only look at the oppressive monopoly superheroes have on our popular culture at present — an increasing share of it explicitly R-rated or “adults only,” a far cry from their humble origins in spinner-rack comics and Saturday-morning cartoons — to appreciate the full scope of the manchild mentality that’s become so pervasive and normalized in this day and age.
Anyway, your husband sounds like my kinda people! I don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong with men being men — with harboring a primal impulse to fulfill conventional gender roles such as protector; it isn’t our masculine instincts that require interrogation so much as our collective definition of what precisely constitutes masculinity. If we can get to a place whereby we learn to dissociate masculinity from patriarchy — where we recognize the former as perfectly healthy and the latter as pathologically harmful — we’ll all net out in a better place for that. The storytellers can help get us there, but it’s going to require confronting some long-cherished and unchallenged myths. Creativity isn’t easy, and moral creativity — what I call “the Ted Lasso way” — even less so. But just like the climate crisis, a subject you and I both feel passionately about, offers an opportunity to rethink and revamp our extractivist economy, the cultural affliction of patriarchy presents a chance to rethink and revamp storytelling. So, speaking as both an environmental activist and storyteller, this is our moment.
SPC
Sean, this is an excellent analysis. As I think I told you before, there are so many men out there who are good, decent, and not that stereotype of the “everyday hero” which really isn’t heroic at all. We need more Ted Lassos and fewer–or no–Doms, Charlies and Kevins. They do a disservice to men in general. Or at least give them a good sense of humour, which is why I like characters like Deadpool or Starlord.
Thanks, Suzanne!
Yes, indeed: There are a lot of men out there making a sincere, honorable, habitual effort to espouse decency and competence and healthy masculinity — true everyday heroes — who aren’t for the most part reflected in popular fiction; instead, we get a lot of idealized action heroes on one end of the spectrum, and proudly imbecilic manboys on the other. As I wrote about in “The Ted Lasso Way,” growing up without a father and, as such, depending on fictional heroes to model manhood for me, I certainly thought (however unconsciously) men were required to fit into one of those two archetypal categories: “uber-competent macho man” or “insouciant funny guy.” Those were your options; now choose your identity based on one or the other.
And Ted Lasso really made me realize how helpful it would have been to have had more adult male protagonists like him when I was growing up fatherless — a “radical” alternative to the “humorless, violent crimefighter” and “smirking, selfish womanizer” stereotypes. Not that I grew up to be either of those things, mind you, but it would have been so helpful to know that superheroes were an unachievable ideal, and manboys an unacceptable aberration, and that one’s sense of masculine identity was by no means reduced to those two bad options, anyway! I think we live in a culture that’s by and large lost sight of that — a culture of manboys who worship superheroes — and that the storytellers could really be of service to us by presenting better, more thoughtful representations of men and masculinity in our popular entertainment. That is a notion I’ve been workshopping since I posted “Here Lies Buffy the Vampire Slayer” last March; “Patriarchal Propaganda” is the merely most recent entry in that ongoing dissertation.
Thanks for always being such a faithful friend of the blog, Suzanne. For those who may be unaware, Suzanne has two new works of fiction out this fall, both of them perfect for Halloween: The Seventh Devil from Bookland Press and Feasting upon the Bones from Potter’s Grove Press. Pleasant nightmares!
Refreshing to hear about the patriarchy from a male. We’re in the dawning of the age of aquarius, the awakening and end of the patriarchy is in motion, hence all the commotion and calling out of the wrong doers. And eerily, I feel the same way about Zuck when you said, “… until you realize the thing Zuckerberg might’ve broken while becoming the fifth wealthiest person in the world is democracy itself.” Karma always catches up. 🙂
Hey, Debby! So glad for your visit!
I don’t know terribly much about astrology, but I certainly concur there is very much a growing sense now that the patriarchal and capitalistic systems that govern every facet of our lives have for too long served a privileged minority at the expense of an exploited majority. We live in a world of great wealth and abundance, but those resources are hoarded rather than shared. That’s unsustainable. And for all of its drawbacks (like misinformation campaigns), social media has allowed us to share — and amplify — our justified outrage about those inequalities and injustices. I do believe we’re at a cultural tipping point, and that the 2020s will be a decade of seismic societal and systemic change — economically, environmentally, socially, and otherwise.
I suspect Zuckerberg, much like Trump, is a man who recognized, consciously or otherwise, that the system is designed to serve people like him: privileged white men. Rather than questioning our patriarchal narratives, he embraced them; it’s not hard to imagine, for instance, a character like Ferris Bueller growing up to be someone like Mark Zuckerberg. I mean, look what happened the first and only time white American men didn’t get their way: The fucking Capitol was sacked!
If we’re going to reform this mindset, we need not merely a more diverse array of voices in the mix — women, BIPOC, LGBTQIA+ — but straight white male storytellers are going to have to play an appreciable part by renouncing the comforting patriarchal narratives we’ve been trained to believe and retell, and then consciously telling anti-patriarchy stories. Such is why I lobby so vociferously on this blog for middle-aged men to retire the outmoded narratives of the analog age — from action heroes to superheroes, from Star Wars to Ghostbusters — and summon the moral imagination to tell new stories, relevant to this unprecedented new era. That’s the challenge and the opportunity being presented to not merely the storytellers, but to all men: Will we choose to move forward into the future… or backward-gaze nostalgically into the past?
I’ve made my decision. I can’t wait to see what comes next.
I’m late to this one, but glad I got to it, Sean. I had a bunch of reactions. The primary being, yup, yes, of course, and tell me something I don’t know. Hehe. I think women (most women) have recognized for centuries that the world would be a better place if we were in charge. Lol.
Sadly, I agree with Dell, about Trump being the epitome of man-child idolatry, and it’s terrifying because he isn’t a fictional character. He’s real, a clinicial narcissist with real power. His rise to glory took the perfect storm of conditions, and he very well may have kicked off the US fall into mediocrity, at best. Thank goodness for the increase in women entering politics.
Which brings me to another point which is rather depressing – there are so many women who buy into the patriarchal system, by flaunting themselves as male-pleasers on multiple levels. The most obvious is physical sexuality and attractiveness, but also by deferring to men as decision-makers, the entitled gender, as well as the ones who must be coddled and manipulated into compliance. Why does Allison stay with Kevin? Where is her power? Why do intelligent women on television (and otherwise) stay with men who are incapable of a partnership? No wonder equal rights languishes in the US – women as a whole don’t demand it.
I’d love to see more films and characters that place men and women on the same footing. They’d certainly be fresh. I think we’re getting there, but way too slow. We’ll see what happens in 2022, in the place it matters most. 🙂
While the number of women who actually voted for Trump may have been overstated, the fact remains he still got the vote of millions of (mostly white) women. Which I believe sums up your point perfectly
I believe that you are right. Women have been taught to defer to men for millennia, and many still internalize that message. Do you remember Phyllis Schlafly? She was a major voice in the campaign against the Equal Rights Amendment
I agree things are getting better, but we still have a ways to go before ALL genders demand equal rights for everyone
Let me rephrase that: I agree that we are making things better. Society doesn’t improve automatically. It takes a hell of a lot of hard work!
I remember Phyllis, Dell, but she’s just one of millions. Yes, we have a long way to go before all people demand equality for each other. And I have to remind myself to put my energy into the world I want to create, instead of just complaining about the one I have. Which is, I think, part of Sean’s message… be the change!
Well said, Diana! If you haven’t already read Nick Kristof’s wonderful essay about why he’s leaving his job at the Times to run for governor of your home state of Oregon, I absolutely recommend it. Here’s a relevant sampling:
Hear, hear.
Thanks for this contribution, Dell! I second your statement wholeheartedly, and it is absolutely true that we are making things better over the long run. It helps to bear in mind the full text of transcendentalist Theodore Parker’s oft-cited (most famously by MLK) comment about the abolitionist movement:
The arc is long. It bends toward justice, indeed, but seldom does any truly monumental campaign begin and conclude in one person’s lifetime. And we have to learn to take satisfaction from the sweat we pour into the causes close to our heart day after day, year after year, because we may not — likely will not — be there at the finish line. That’s what our fiction, at its best, is for: to supply us with the closure and catharsis so elusive in real life — to remind us that our efforts do make a difference over the long run of things. The moral arc of the universe bends toward justice… but it doesn’t bend on its own; it needs a pull from people like us. Never stop pulling.
Hey, Diana! I’m glad you took the time to stop by after your much-deserved blogging break! The comments on my posts never close, and are always welcome — weeks and months and even years after publication! (The tribute I published in 2018 to the cult-classic crime drama State of Grace continues to by found by fans of the movie; the film’s producer, Randy Ostrow, even recently left a comment on that post!)
As monstrous (and still dangerous) as Trump is, there is a glass-half-full interpretation of his sociopolitical ascendance during and after the Obama presidency: He is the desperate, nigh-cartoonish icon of defiance by the white patriarchy — a raging, roaring symbol of its refusal to go quietly into that good night. They very much see the inevitably of their impending obsolescence, and Trump represents their final Godzilla-like wail of protest. I would even argue the spirit of burn-down-the-system nihilism that animates both Trump and MAGA is a tacit acknowledgment that white patriarchy’s hold on Western culture is inexorably depreciating, and they’re simply attempting to set the house on fire as they leave so no one can live there. We’re winning, and they damn well know it, which is why they are resorting to increasingly desperate, dangerous, undemocratic, and un-American acts to prolong their hold on power.
To your second point: Yes, women and POC are indoctrinated to the same cultural worldviews as white men; all of us have been raised on the same patriarchal propaganda. The Good Place actress Jameela Jamil has frequently called out the Kardashians, for example, for being “double agents for the patriarchy”:
As a fan of Kevin Can F**k Himself, I’ve often wondered why Allison was taken with Kevin in the first place, and why she’s continued to stay with him? Why doesn’t she feel empowered enough to leave the marriage? Is it socioeconomics… or emotional institutionalization… or a combination thereof… or something else entirely? I hope those are insights series creator Valerie Armstrong plans to explore in the show’s second season. I think there is a lot left to say about men like Kevin and the patriarchal society that unconsciously supports him.
As for more films and characters that position men and women on equal footing: I think we are getting there, too — surely if slowly — and part of that transition will require not merely telling better stories moving forward, but an honest reappraisal of some of the narratives we’ve spent our lifetimes enjoying and assimilating. I loved Ferris Bueller growing up, even though today I see it as an unabashed emblem of white suburban privilege. I loved the buddy-cop action comedies of the 1980s and ripped-from-the-headlines policiers of the ’90s, though now I’m appalled by their normalization of police violence. I loved the dystopian sci-fi fantasies of my youth, like Escape from New York and The Road Warrior, though now I predominantly view them and their ilk (which very much includes The Walking Dead) as libertarian wet dreams in which it’s every man for himself, there’s no problem that can’t be resolved with a firearm, and you never have to pay taxes again. To appropriate a point made this morning by essayist Jennifer Finney Boylan: “Maybe reconsidering those [stories], and their artists, can inspire us to think about the future and how to bring about a world that is more inclusive and more just.”
That’s exactly the ongoing project of this blog. Thanks for supporting it, Diana.
Sean,
Every word of your essay makes me want to shout from the rooftops, “Listen up guys. And I do mean all of you! Here it is in black and white. PAY ATTENTION!” You have really nailed it on this very central mythology that lives at the foundation of so much of what is wrong with our society. (Actually, you always do. But this one in particular hits the core of the specific problem that leaches out in every direction and filters into just about every level of our civilization.)
I am so glad you addressed the issue of writing strong female characters:
“Writers like myself can start by worrying less about creating “strong female characters,” an often-well-intentioned creative instinct that has a history of being problematic ground for us…”
This has been a pet peeve of mine for, oh, forever. I suspect the reason most male writers have trouble with writing for genders other than cismales is that there is an ingrained, perhaps unconscious, belief that in order to take a female character and make her stronger you have to make her behave more like a man. Which is just an extension of the patriarchal propaganda you’ve shined a light on.
Major kudos, Sean, for being able to see behind the curtain so clearly. And for having the courage to shred the propaganda, in public no less!
Hey, Tara!
I am, admittedly, nowhere near the first (nor most effective) cultural critic to cast a spotlight on the patriarchal undercurrents inherent in the Western literary canon, but I do feel a responsibility as a straight white cisgendered male writer to say, “Hey, I was — and still, in some cases, am — a fan of these stories, but maybe it’s time to reappraise, retire, and even renounce them? Perhaps the time has come to tell new stories, for a correspondingly new millennium?”
Inspired by the both the writing of social/environmental activist Naomi Klein as well as the notion of moral imagination propounded by our Climate Reality mentor Vice President Gore, I have devoted this blog to the interrogation of the values (often unconsciously) encoded into the popular stories we tell, from our police thrillers to our superhero universes, from our sitcoms to our dystopian fantasies (The Walking Dead, Ready Player One). This blog serves, in its way, as a record of my own intellectual evolution on the role of storytelling, for good and for ill, as a sociocultural bellwether, and the responsibility storytellers have to challenge comforting narratives rather than mindlessly regurgitate them.
To echo your point: “Strong female characters” created by men — and this includes Ellen Ripley from Alien and Sarah Connor from The Terminator and Geena Davis’ soccer mom–cum–superspy in The Long Kiss Goodnight and reigning feminist action icon Imperator Furiosa from Mad Max: Fury Road — are mostly loved and praised for doing the same violent things male action heroes do (in between occasional expressions of dutiful caregiving). This is a subject I covered at length in “Here Lies Buffy the Vampire Slayer: On Letting Go of a Fan Favorite — and Why We Should.” In their (often-well-intentioned) way, those “girls with guns” are full-fledged agents of the patriarchal worldview, because they position women as idyllic male fantasies: sexy, tough, and maternal. They are as problematic in their own way as action heroes like Dominic Toretto and Snake Plissken and Jack Bauer and Bryan Mills (Liam Neeson’s character from Taken) are. Male writers ought to leave the creation of protagonist heroines to female storytellers; we have our work cut out for us, as it is, reforming masculine archetypes! That’s where our attention should be focused now: disentangling masculinity from patriarchy, then banishing the latter by providing healthy models for the former, much the way Ted Lasso does. We need a lot more Ted Lassos!
Thank you, Tara, for being such a supportive friend and colleague. I’m privileged to know and work with so many people devoted to sustainability and equality for all. Your goodness inspires my own moral and intellectual growth.
SPC
“In their head-spinning transition from apologists for Russian President Vladimir Putin to proponents of World War III, Republicans reveal not only their utter lack of principle but also their obsession with toxic masculinity”
“(M)anliness manifesting as bullying has been the Republicans’ defining feature of late”
“Of course, Trump has boastfully established himself the standard-bearing ringleader of this utterly bizarre and self-defeating circus of (overwhelmingly White) male fragility.”
https://www.alternet.org/2022/03/jennifer-rubin-gop-grotesque-masculinity/?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=twitter
Indeed, Dell — ditto all of this.
The “assault on masculinity” is as absurd (and nonexistent) as the “assault on Christmas.” These are, as you know, flagrant (and reprehensible) attempts to stoke the Culture Wars, because the GOP is too irretrievably bankrupt, both morally and ideologically, to gain political ground in any other way (other than by cheating, that is, through gerrymandering and voter suppression, etc.). This notion that manhood itself is under attack is 100% symptomatic, as the article asserts, of (predominantly white) male fragility, the corrosive pathology that inflicts Tucker Carlson and Josh Hawley and Donald Trump, to say nothing of many (though my no means all) American men, to some degree or other.
True masculinity begets self-confidence. Masculinity — like femininity — is good, right, and natural. It feels good to feel masculine, as it should. The problem is the way masculinity has been defined and portrayed — particularly by Hollywood entertainment, which is so culturally influential — and how it’s been conflated with patriarchy. Patriarchal values are in the process of being challenged — and it’s about fucking time — but conservatives believe (and/or want us to believe) it is manhood itself that is somehow under attack. And it is up to all of us — particularly straight white cisgendered males, like yours truly — to push back on these false narratives (the MAGA narrative), and to provide (through our actions and our fictions) models of healthy masculinity, ones that are, among other noble qualities, pro-feminism and anti-patriarchy.
And I think that is happening with increasingly momentum. As the frenzied desperation of the patriarchy becomes more evident and undeniable, both here at home and abroad, more and more people see how toxic, cartoonish, unfair, entitled, unsustainable, and out of touch patriarchal values are. Consider the way a deeply insecure, tough-guy bully like Vladimir Putin has been met, to his great surprise, with the formidable courage and resolve of a decent man like Volodymyr Zelenskyy, to say nothing of the Ukrainian people, who are giving the entire geopolitical community a much-needed reminder of how powerful a force democracy still is, and why it is worth fighting for now more than ever. This war is about so much more than a single piece of territory; it’s about whether democracy will prevail over authoritarianism. We are watching history unfold.
The danger of a dying movement or ideology, though, particularly one that’s long enjoyed sociocultural and/or -political dominion, is that desperation often inspires radical behavior (like, say, a Capitol insurrection, for instance). We’re certainly seeing that here at home, with the spate of draconian (Republican) laws limiting reproductive and voting rights (which are the antidotes to patriarchy), and Putin is exemplifying that same nihilistic spirit, as well. So, I guess there’s encouragement to be taken from how acutely the white patriarchy senses the end is nigh, but it’s important to never lose sight of the fact that such movements will not go gently into that good night. And if they can’t stay, then they’ll only be inclined to burn the entire house down.
When I published “Challenging Our Moral Imagination,” I concluded the post with a brief selection of recommendations of television shows I felt modeled more enlightened, prosocial values than we’d seen in quite some time, and I suggested the possibility of making that a recurring series. I’ve since made note of several more principled programs worth spotlighting, which I’ll aim to share in either my April or May monthly post. Stay tuned…
Thanks, as always, my friend, for thinking of this blog when you find links worth sharing. It is much appreciated!