Platitudes Won’t Cure Toxic Masculinity

The discourse surrounding the recent allegations of assault at Cornell seems to be engulfed by a trite platitude: Men, in particular, need to “speak up.” Two Middlebury students argue, for instance, that “young men need to understand how to intervene when they witness sexual misconduct — and it shouldn’t be that hard.” Likewise, The Crimson’s Editorial Board wrote earlier this month that “men need to hold other men accountable.”

But this clamoring for intra-male confrontation is counterproductive. By positing better interactions between men as the primary solution for sexual misconduct on college campuses, this line of reasoning appears satisfied with a broad call to action, ignoring the reality that such conversations are unlikely to happen on their own. Institutions have a role to play, and meticulous communication is the best way for them to implement these changes.

I’ve seen my fair share of socially pressured attempts at cultural change within male-dominated spaces. I attended an all-boys private school from third grade through high school graduation. During my time there, I saw how institutions struggle to balance centuries of tradition with a commitment to reflect the pluralistic present day — a tightrope walk with significant behavioral consequences.

Indeed, it is inaccurate to assume that today’s iteration of toxic masculinity arises exclusively from close-minded frat bros incapable of speaking up. Early in high school, I sensed a sudden shift away from a bygone male-centric era. We stopped referring to ourselves as a “brotherhood,” but a “community;” external consultants led acronym-heavy workshops on consent. The school’s promotion of inclusivity training struck me as hollow, leaving entrenched, preexisting chauvinistic social patterns intact.

Good intentions aside, these policies failed for their inability to address the root problem of toxic masculinity: a crippling sense of offended dignity. My school’s didactic, top-down approach to addressing a problem of toxic masculinity alienated many of my classmates, who continued to wallow in misogynistic rhetoric while plunging further into the manosphere. It is certainly immature to put men on a pedestal. But to topple our egos so forcefully risks producing the opposite effect.

I worry that responses to the allegations at Cornell propose similarly diaphanous solutions — vague rhetoric about “speaking up” inappropriately dovetails with cursory yet mandatory sexual assault training modules. Adorned with cartoon characters, worryingly simplistic scenarios, and the often-present option to fast forward, these tasks present yet another superficial attempt at real cultural change.

I sincerely believe that all men know sexual assault is a problem. The course of action, therefore, becomes not awareness so much as voluntarism. How do we prevent standing up from feeling like a chore? How do we build an environment where men eagerly disrupt toxic dynamics in the name of basic decency?

As the years went on, my school walked the tightrope with increasing success. A plunge into a performative progressivism was followed by a cautious return to gendered language, all alongside a recognition that words alone can’t prevent assault. The quality of external consultants improved, as powerful survivor testimonies complemented more realistic scenarios. I knew things were improving once a leader at our school, a traditionally masculine man in every sense, reprimanded one of my classmates for using the term “little bitch.”

Healthy masculinity is always at risk of seeping into a tank of toxicity. At Harvard, as long as rote Title IX modules persist, I worry that the administration will pat themselves on the back for solving sexual assault. Though we haven’t faced anything as public as the Cornell case in recent years, we aren’t out of the woods just yet.

When all is said and done, all-male spaces are exceedingly valuable. Though toxicity can fester if a culture is left unchecked, my ten years at an all-boys school brought a wide array of lingering benefits, including an openness to spirited debate and a consistent urge for good-natured banter.

I call for a gender segregated sexual assault training that, with the aid of an abundance of carefully curated case studies, genuinely explores how men can “speak up.” I call for strong male role models to be the faces behind these efforts. And I call for my fellow men to commit to giving open-mindedness the benefit of the doubt.

Cyrus P. Sarfaty ’29, a Crimson Editorial editor, is a Government concentrator in Adams House.