“Throw the bomb”. Some middle school friends and I were watching an NFL football game one Sunday afternoon over sixty years ago. One friend’s dad was planted in an easy chair in front of the TV. Between sips of his drink, with his eyes fixated on the screen, he called out what he thought should be the next play. “Throw the bomb”, which involved the quarterback launching a long pass to a wide receiver sprinting toward the endzone. Possible six points. Dramatic. He called for the bomb nearly every play, which in my early teenage years I knew wasn’t great strategy; its failure rate didn’t justify the risk. Off tackle runs and short passes in the flat would work better, which could eventually set up the bomb. He was undeterred. Throw the bomb. An exciting prospect, if it worked, which it rarely did.
The stakes in my friend’s den weren’t high. His dad was an armchair quarterback, a role that so many men have assumed so many times over the decades. Calling out plays, especially exciting ones. Exercising free speech. If the calls didn’t work, no matter. We were not into strategy (although many of us thought we were), but were participating in the entertainment spectacle of the growing NFL colossus. It was fun.
Four months ago the US launched a series of bombing attacks on Iran. They didn’t throw bombs; they dropped them. Hundreds of them, on military targets, although one was dropped on a school near a military installation, killing at least 160, most of them children. For some, no matter. It was an error in pursuit of a more important strategy. A strategy of regime change, which didn’t work; a strategy of forcing surrender, which didn’t work; a strategy of opening up shipping lanes, which hasn’t worked. Early on, it became clear to a growing number of people that there really was no strategy. A shaky cease fire followed, negotiations took place (which haven’t worked), and incendiary messages have been sent.
And the bombing has started again.
What is becoming clear, to me at least, is that there is a strategy in play, but it is not about foreign policy or the Strait of Hormuz, economic windfalls for people who are benefitting from the conflict, or even anti Muslim bias (which is considerable). No, the strategy is about asserting manhood. Being tough. Not backing down. Pummeling and punishing those who stand in the way. The UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship) cage has been brought onto the world stage.
I well remember the pressure I felt when my friends and I gathered to watch football. We were taught that we needed to be tough, and we acted that out when we scrimmaged outside. Fights occasionally broke out, and while I never fought in one (although I do remember putting a ferocious tackle on a ball carrier right after he sucker punched me in the jaw) I would cheer the fights on. We all did. It was part of our manly formation. We could be horribly callous. The strategy was simple. Demonstrate toughness and virility. Glorify your testosterone.
I like to think that I have outgrown that need to demonstrate my male prowess, but people will tell me it shows up now and then. Our president has not outgrown this phase, nor has he demonstrated any desire to. He is not aided by taking sips of alcohol (by all accounts he is a teetotaler), but he is drinking from some cauldron which kindles his unrelenting thirst for power. He is fueled by a need to dominate. He pummels and punishes with regularity. He enjoys it. He wants and expects others to enjoy his outbursts. It is not a strategy. It is a raw demonstration of power and authority. This is not about competition. It is about domination, and it is both frightening and dangerous.
Part of me wants to fight Mr. Trump’s toxic masculinity with aggression and resentment. I know I can call all that energy back up. So many of us, especially men, were well trained in verbal and physical pugilistics. And there are countless forces and voices that want me – that want all of us, men and women alike – to enter that ring. But that is not a strategy. Rather, it is dropping verbal, written, and sometimes physical bombs all over the place for purpose of being the last one standing. To achieve dominance. It is an impulse that needs to be fought.
Paradoxically, we need to fight the aggression and resentment, not with a similar posture, but by claiming vulnerability and humility. By deep listening. Being open. It has its own power. It is abiding. It is transforming, not just for those who exercise it, but it – in the long run – can thwart those who traffic in unbridled aggression. We need to learn to read offenses, and how best to counter them. That requires strategy and forbearance.
It is hard work. And it is necessary. Particularly now. And it is happening, in large and small ways. Some examples: support and solidarity from Minneapolis residents exposed the cruelty of ICE and eventually sent them away; America’s Potluck over the July 4th weekend gathered people in their cities, towns and neighborhoods to celebrate community; groups committed to building bridges across difference are proliferating, with deep listening being a cherished value. More and more people are discovering that the masculinity suit of armor that the Administration is challenging the country to respect, if not put on — is confining to the point that the wearers themselves are not protected, but instead are shackled by fear and resentment.
We need to help each other take those suits off.
