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What it means to be a man

I am often asked to justify Warwick’s status as an all-boys school. Popular wisdom casts them as relics of a bygone era – breeding grounds for misogyny and privilege, perpetuating patriarchal norms. In my opinion, the opposite is true. An all-boys school offers us an opportunity to have honest conversations about what it means to be a man in today’s world.

At Warwick, we often talk about thriving – being happy, successful, fulfilled, and making a positive difference in the world. But how do we measure that? What sort of men should our pupils be aiming to become?

To help us explore this, I recently shared two very different poems in assembly. One is over a century old; the other very much of today.

The first is Rudyard Kipling’s If. The poem sets out the virtues Kipling believed defined a strong and admirable character.

If you can keep your head when all about you
  Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
  But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
  Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
  And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
  If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
  And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
  Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
  And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
  And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
  And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
  To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
  Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
  Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
  If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
  With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
  And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

The poem has inspired leaders and sportsmen alike. It is even inscribed on the wall above the doorway to Wimbledon’s Centre Court. It is strong, powerful, stirring. But it has also been criticised for promoting a Victorian ideal of masculinity – emotional restraint, never showing weakness, being steadfast at all costs. And of course, it is framed entirely as a father’s advice to his son – a very patriarchal image.

Now, fast-forward a hundred years, to Darragh Fleming’s Dangerous Men.

If I ever have boys, they’ll be dangerous men.
They’ll smile at dogs and children and be a tonic to friends.
They’ll send flowers to their mothers just because,
And they’ll be a shoulder for many when the world is too much.
My boys will know that vulnerability is strength.
They won’t bottle anger, they’ll learn how to express.
They won’t let pride be the reason they hide,
Wearing masks while they’re hurting inside.
No, my boys will be dangerous men.
They won’t stay silent even when it’s uncomfortable for them.
They’ll learn that their actions are more effective than words,
But they’ll use their voices to amplify the unheard.
They’ll know that love isn’t something to perform,
They’ll see beauty in all of its forms.
My boys won’t grow learning to emotionally hide,
They’ll reshape masculinity into something they like.
Make it softer to touch,
They’ll know that who they are is more than enough.
They’ll know that being a man doesn’t mean carrying the burden alone,
They’ll learn that an emotional man is a man fully grown.
They won’t settle everything with violent swings,
They’ll live in truth even when that truth stings.
So, yeah, if I ever have boys,
They’ll be dangerous men.
But the danger they’ll be, won’t be the one society meant.

Fleming subverts the traditional connotations of masculinity and danger, offering an alternative to Kipling’s vision. For him, dangerous men are those who bury their emotions and hide behind a mask of strength. True strength, Fleming suggests, lies in being open, speaking honestly, showing empathy and allowing yourself to feel.

On the surface, we have two different pictures of masculinity:

  • Kipling’s – stoic, self-reliant, emotionally restrained.
  • Fleming’s – empathetic, expressive, challenging traditional norms.

Which is right?

To claim that Kipling is wrong, and Fleming right would be reductive and lacks nuance. The truth is that both If and Dangerous Men contain truth.

There are times when Kipling’s advice is exactly what we need. Life will throw challenges – exams that don’t go to plan, games that are lost, relationships that get tested. In those moments, perseverance matters. Treating success and failure with equanimity remains a valuable life skill. It is important not to celebrate too wildly when things go well, not to despair too deeply when things go wrong, but to keep moving forward with balance and determination. If also emphasises the value of humility, self-belief without arrogance, the ability to engage with all people.

But Fleming is also right. If we only ever bottle things up, if we pretend that strength means never talking, never sharing, never admitting we’re struggling – then we risk isolating ourselves, or worse. Being a man is not about shutting down feelings but about having the courage to express them. It takes bravery to ask for help, to say you’re not okay, to be kind and gentle in a world that often prizes hardness.

Both Kipling and Fleming see courage as essential, but in different ways. Kipling’s is the grit to face adversity; Fleming’s the bravery to stand up for others. Both also emphasise integrity. For Kipling, it means holding fast to your values; for Fleming, it means doing what is right even when it is uncomfortable. In the end, both agree – integrity is about being true to yourself.

So, what does it mean to be a good man today?

It means learning from both voices. From Kipling we take steadiness, perspective and perseverance. From Fleming we learn honesty, empathy and openness. Together they point us to something bigger: the kind of character we aim to build at Warwick.

A Warwickian shows courage – both in standing firm when life is tough and in opening up when he needs help.
He shows curiosity – by taking a genuine interest in others, listening, and always seeking to learn.
He shows creativity – in how he approaches challenges, solving problems and finding new ways forward.
He practises humility – knowing that triumph and disaster are, as Kipling said, both impostors.
He shows perseverance – when things don’t go his way, continuing to give his best.
And he takes responsibility – for his actions, his words, and the impact he has on those around him.

To thrive – to truly thrive – is not just about what you achieve, but about who you are, and the positive impact you make on those around you.