On Modeling
Or, how to be a better man for other men
Much has been written lately about young men—
the challenges they face in an ever-changing world,
the lack of viable options in work and relationships,
the isolation and numbing comfort of screens.
All of it is true.
And yet, not the whole truth.
Men are failing other men—especially our teenage and early-adult sons, brothers, and students.
We fail because we ourselves have fallen short in four essentials of life:
Integrity.
Consistency.
Identity.
Charity.
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Integrity
When I speak of integrity, I mean the ordinary definition: honest, consistent, guided by moral and ethical principle.
Or as it’s sometimes put—firm, fair, and consistent.
Too few role models today embody that.
There’s the drug-dealing dad in Breaking Bad.
The unapologetic misogynists on The Bachelor.
The hedonists of The White Lotus.
Film and television aren’t the problem; they’re the mirror.
The scarcity of upright men on screen reflects how few we produce in real life.
This failure extends beyond pop culture.
Many of our institutions—political, corporate, even religious—suffer from the same collapse.
Too many male leaders are craven, undisciplined, unprincipled.
And with men like these in charge, why should young men expect to learn integrity anywhere else?
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Consistency
Young men don’t just need ideals—they need to see those ideals embodied.
Consistency is the bridge between what we say we stand for and what our lives actually reveal.
One of the simplest ways men can show up is by first getting off the couch.
As writer Matthew Fray noted in his book, “This is How Your Marriage Ends”
“Exercise demonstrates:
1. Self-respect.
2. Discipline and follow-through, which demonstrates consistency and trustworthiness. And lastly, actively demonstrating discipline and follow-through creates within you…
3. Confidence.”
Simply put, men who move regularly tend to eat, sleep, and behave better than those who don’t.
Yet more than one-third of men between twenty-five and forty-five now struggle with obesity.
Obesity is not just excess weight; it’s a proven risk factor for hypertension, diabetes, heart disease, and cancer.
It’s a deliberate act of choosing an excess of self, rather than pursuing temperance.
Moreover, obesity rates among young adults (ages eighteen to twenty-five) has risen from about 5.5% to 32.6% in the last 50 years, resulting in the condition where one in three Americans in this age range is ineligible for military service because of it.
This isn’t merely a health epidemic—it’s a question of national resilience.
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Identity
Numbers like these aren’t just statistics.
They’re reflections of identity—how we show up, how we care for ourselves, and what we model for the next generation.
Taking care of the only body we are granted in life matters—it’s stewardship, not vanity.
Mens sana in corpore sano, as the Roman poet Juvenal wrote.
Movement, then, is part of self-respect.
So is style.
I’m not talking about designer labels.
I love my workout shorts and pit-stained tees also —but they belong at the gym, not everywhere else.
Clothes communicate how we see ourselves and what we expect from the world in return.
A lack of style then isn’t trivial; it signals a lack of self-definition.
If a man’s wardrobe is indistinguishable from that of a fourteen-year-old, how can we expect younger men to learn what’s appropriate—or to feel confident expressing who they are to others around them?
Style, like speech, is expression.
And our identity is inexorably linked to our relationships.
As Scott Galloway recently noted:
“Forty-five percent of men ages 18 to 25 have never approached a woman in person. Without the guardrails of a relationship, young men behave as if they have no guardrails.”
That’s not just a dating problem—it’s a symptom of isolation.
Men who lack models of integrity and compassion inevitably struggle to express affection or confidence.
And they drift toward unhealthy caricatures of masculinity—the loudest voices in the room instead of the steady ones.
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Care for Others
Two weeks ago, President Trump stood motionless as a man collapsed beside him at a televised event.
Surrounded by doctors and executives, he offered no aid, no visible concern—only silence.
It was surreal to watch.
Not satire, not parody—real life.
If a man in the highest elected office cannot act with compassion toward the person beside him, how much less will he care for those he never sees?
Such behavior stands in stark contrast to those words of Jesus’ in Matthew 25:45:
“The King will reply, ‘I tell you, whenever you refused to help one of these least important ones, you refused to help me.’”
This failure of empathy, of kindness, extends far beyond politics.
How many of us each can recall the latest sports stats but not the needs of our neighbor?
How many volunteer our opinions online but never our time to those in need?
Nearly two centuries ago, Alexis de Tocqueville warned:
“When the taste for physical gratifications grows faster than our education in freedom, men lose self-restraint… In their exclusive anxiety to make a fortune, they forget the close connection between each man’s prosperity and the prosperity of all.”
Operating from scarcity makes generosity impossible.
And without generosity, moral foundations decay.
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Closing Reflection
The measure of a man isn’t in his power, his wealth, or even his strength—it’s in how he steadies the world around him.
Living with integrity, caring for others, and knowing oneself—these are the quiet, steady revolutions that hold a community together.
When a man practices these things with humility, he quietly gives other men permission to do the same.
Sometimes the most powerful form of leadership is simply modeling a better way, inviting others to rise with you rather than follow behind you.
Bust of a Young Jew, Remembrandt van Rijn, 1663 - Image courtesy of Kimball Art Museum.