Canceling Dad: The Sad Cultural Project Hidden In Plain Sight
From sitcoms to state policy - how the undermining of fatherhood in modern media, academia, and government hurts us all
Modern culture wars, that endless performance of radical individualism, grievance, and accusation, seem to be animated by a simple, unspoken truth: far too many people are mad at their dad. What else could explain the adolescent tantrums masquerading as politics?
Once the domain of diaries, sad songs, and American action movie allegories, dad problems are spilling over into the relationship between the citizen and the state.
Mad at Dad - In Three Parts
PART I
The left shouts about identity, the right bellows about strength, and in both cases, we find a kind of relentless, unresolved psychodrama. Perhaps, before tearing down statues or building up walls, the combatants should start with a more straightforward task: go home and make peace with their father.
Music as always is a leading indicator. “The Girl All The Bad Guys Want” by Bowling for Soup is a really fun song with a couple of deep stings. They describe the girl in question with the line: “Her CD changer’s full of singers who are mad at their dad.” It’s not just Cat’s In The Cradle. There’s more of it than you would think at first. Art is about pain and longing after all, and suffering is intrinsic to artistic creation.
"Art is to console those who are broken by life." – Vincent Van Gogh
Singers Known for Father-Related Themes:
John Lennon – Lennon’s estranged relationship with his father, Alfred Lennon, influenced many of his songs and personal struggles, including themes of abandonment and reconciliation ("Mother", "Julia").
Kurt Cobain – The Nirvana frontman often reflected on his parents' divorce and his strained relationship with his father, which contributed to his angst-ridden lyrics.
Eminem – Frequently raps about his absent father and the emotional impact of abandonment in songs like "Cleanin' Out My Closet".
Bob Dylan – While less overt, Dylan's relationship with traditional authority figures, including his father, seeps into his lyrics' rebellion and independence. I’m still trying to work Tears of Rage… maybe he is too.
Neil Young - My hero. But holy crow. From the days when the struggle was about growing your hair long, he’s like 80 and he’s still working on it as a lifetime project. Whatever the story, he well knew his old man would think Old Man was about him.
Taylor Swift – Although not "mad," she often reflects on her father’s influence and occasionally portrays him as a figure of misunderstanding or conflict ("The Best Day").
Hank Williams Jr. – Grappled with the legacy of his famous father, Hank Williams Sr., and its impact on his identity and career.
Jay-Z – Explored themes of fatherlessness and its effect on his life in songs like "Moment of Clarity" and "Glory".
Lady Gaga – Often references her relationship with her father in her music and performances, including moments of tension and reconciliation.
Prince – His complicated relationship with his strict father, John L. Nelson, influenced his approach to music and independence.
Pink – Frequently explores family dynamics, including her relationship with her father, in songs like "Family Portrait".
Tupac Shakur – Addressed his absent father and the effect it had on his life in songs like "Papa'z Song".
Ozzy Osbourne – His tumultuous relationship with his father and upbringing is a recurring theme in his interviews and persona.
Phil Collins – Explored paternal themes in songs like "Father to Son" and "The Living Years" (though this was with Mike + The Mechanics).
Bruce Springsteen – His fraught relationship with his father is central to many songs, including "Adam Raised a Cain" and "Independence Day".
Artists like Billie Eilish, Drake, or Nicki Minaj, whose lyrics and public commentary often hint at complex familial dynamics.
John Prine - Always on point with songs like Unwed Fathers and The Six O’Clock News
The problem arises when patricentric resentment spills over from songs, diaries, and art to the everyday running of things in government, education, business, media, and culture in general.
This thought occurred to me while reading about the so-called 'alpha wolf' in The Art of Manliness—a term beloved by men in tight shirts and podcast microphones, but one that, as it turns out, is a fraud. The old notion of the alpha, clawing his way to dominance, has been thoroughly debunked. In the wild, true alpha wolves are not swaggering tyrants—they are fathers. The pack is not a mob but a family, and the so-called alpha male is merely a responsible adult, keeping the pups in line and ensuring the survival of the group. He leads not by force, but by example. A wolf 'becomes alpha' not by bullying, but by growing up.
The alpha wolf is a persistent myth for a reason. In fact, he does not shriek that everything is unjust, nor does he peacock his power. He simply is. He protects, provides, and leads by example. That so many people today fail to recognize this speaks to the depth of our collective father hunger. If the culture war feels like a never-ending tantrum, it may be because it is. We are not watching a battle of ideas; we are witnessing the world’s most tedious family drama, played out on the grand stage of history.
Contrast this with our present cultural moment, where both the political left and right are full of leaders and movements that seem arrested at some Oedipal impasse. The progressive left, obsessed with dismantling every authority structure, rejects the father figure outright—whether he takes the form of a traditional patriarch, a national identity, or a biological reality. This is the politics of perpetual adolescence, where every institution is oppressive and every tradition a shackle.
On the other hand, the populist right, in its bombastic defiance, does not so much embrace the father as attempt to become him—by force, if necessary. Here we find a cartoonish exaggeration of masculinity, one that lacks the wisdom and restraint of actual fathers. Instead of strong and measured leadership, they champion puerile provocateurs, men who shout rather than guide, who pick fights rather than provide. Their idea of an 'alpha' is not the father wolf, but the lone one—alienated, defensive, and desperate to assert control.
Both of these impulses—the left’s rejection of the father and the right’s adolescent imitation of him—stem from the same wound. In a more literal sense, fatherlessness has become a crisis in Western society. The absence of strong, present fathers in the home has left young men unmoored and young women distrustful. The statistics on what happens when fathers disappear are sobering: higher crime, lower achievement, greater emotional instability. It is no wonder that our politics have taken on these same characteristics.
The portrayal of fathers in modern media over the last 50 years is telling, and its impact is adding up. If fathers can only be bumbling fools or oppressive tyrants, what is the point of any young man wanting to grow up? Is it any wonder researchers like Richard Reeves are uncovering disturbing trends in the lives of boys and young men?
Even the government is in on it. The most recent NFB documentary SONS is a cavalcade of the rhetoric that men—all men, but especially all white men—are the root of the oppressive hierarchy that causes all the suffering in the world today and throughout all of history. It's a fake and false narrative—clearly driven by people who are mad at their dad, and they gotta get that checked out before they cause more real damage.
Richard Reeves book - On Boys And Men - is an alarm call to the world. It’s complex, data supported and deep. Here’s a 15 minute intro to his work.
The Strangeness of Estrangement
Parental estrangement has become a quiet epidemic in modern life, fueled by a mix of generational shifts, ideological divides, and the rise of therapeutic language that often frames discomfort as trauma. Where past generations weathered conflicts within the unspoken bonds of family, today’s culture encourages clean breaks, no-contact resolutions, and the belief that one’s well-being is best preserved by severing ties rather than mending them. Social media amplifies grievances, reinforcing narratives of victimhood while eroding the notion of unconditional family loyalty. What was once a rare and painful rift has, in many circles, become a normalized—even righteous—decision, leaving behind an entire generation of aging parents confused, grieving, and quietly wondering what they did wrong.
Instead of trying to dominate or dismantle society, perhaps it’s time for people to reconcile with their ghosts—the absent fathers, the failed leaders, the missing examples. Instead of smashing the past or trying to resurrect an imaginary version of it, maybe it’s time to grow up.
Stacking The Building Blocks of Society
Families, in whatever form they take, are the fundamental building blocks of all human, and many animal, societies. We've practiced this. We have experience. We can also imagine how to make them better. The one thing we can't do is discard them. We can't deny families homes, structure, meaningful work, connection, respect, or hope. Our families are the fruit of the past and the seed of the future. There is no other way.
PART II The Evolution of Fathers in Media: From Wise Patriarchs to Punchlines
Fathers on Screen—A Reflection of Society
The portrayal of fathers in media has undergone a profound shift over the past century, mirroring real life cultural changes in family dynamics, authority structures, and societal expectations of masculinity. From the wise and dependable patriarchs of early television to today’s often bumbling or toxic caricatures, media representations of fatherhood tell a broader story about how we see men, families, and leadership in society.
Here are some notable exceptions…
This shift raises critical questions: What happens when fathers are consistently portrayed as fools, tyrants, or absent figures? How does media shape our perception of paternal authority? And, most importantly, what does it say about our broader cultural unease with fatherhood itself?
Where Do We Go From Here? A Call for Balanced Portrayals
If the media is a mirror, it has been reflecting an increasingly distorted image of fatherhood. Families today take many forms, but one truth remains: Fathers matter.
We don’t need to return to a sanitized 1950s ideal of the infallible patriarch, nor should we accept a media landscape where fathers are always punchlines or villains. What’s missing is a middle ground—a portrayal of fatherhood that is strong but human, guiding but fallible, loving but respectable.
Fatherhood has gone from being idealized, to humanized, to marginalized in entertainment. As we move forward, the challenge is to tell stories that neither glorify nor dismiss fathers, but rather, recognize their importance in a balanced way.
Media doesn’t just reflect society—it shapes it. If we want stronger families, stronger men, and stronger communities, we need to start by getting fatherhood right.
There is a compelling argument that Donald Trump is profoundly shaped by his relationship with his father, Fred Trump, and that this dynamic extends into his relationships with his own sons.
PART III - In The Shadow of the Towering Trump
Nowhere is the trouble with fathers more apparent than at the very top of the new world order. If ever there was evidence that we gotta get this right, it is here.
The Shadow of Fred Trump
Fred Trump was a hard-driving real estate mogul who valued toughness, dominance, and success above all else. He instilled in Donald an extreme version of competition and a binary worldview: you were either a "killer" or a "loser."
No Room for Weakness
Fred Trump reportedly viewed weakness as intolerable, which shaped Donald’s lifelong obsession with strength, winning, and projecting invulnerability. Trump often brags that he never cries, never apologizes, and never admits failure—traits that seem less like confidence and more like deep-seated defensive mechanisms.
Favoritism and the Ghost of Freddy Trump
Donald Trump’s older brother, Freddy, was Fred Trump Sr.'s original heir-apparent but failed to meet his father's demanding standards. He struggled with alcoholism and eventually died young. Donald took from this the lesson that "nice guys finish last" and embraced his father's cutthroat philosophy, seeing Freddy's fate as a cautionary tale.
Trump as the Perpetual Son
Even in his 70s, Trump still spoke about his father with reverence, repeatedly crediting him with everything he learned about business. But there's also a lingering sense that he was never quite free of his father's expectations. His famous need to embellish—whether his wealth, his achievements, or his status—suggests someone who is still trying to impress a long-gone ghost of an authority figure.
The ultimate paradox of Trump is that, despite his dominance and bravado, he has always seemed to seek external validation. He cares deeply about how he is perceived, whether by ratings, crowd sizes, or public accolades. It’s not hard to read this as the lifelong attempt of a man still trying to prove himself to his now long-dead father.
His Relationship with His Own Sons
Trump’s interactions with his own children, particularly his sons, mirror his relationship with Fred Trump: transactional, hierarchical, and rooted in favoritism.
Donald Jr.: The Neglected Heir? – Reports suggest that Trump was largely uninvolved in Don Jr.'s upbringing and saw him as weak for being too attached to his mother, Ivana. In later years, Don Jr. became the most publicly sycophantic of the Trump children, possibly as an attempt to earn his father’s approval.
Eric Trump: The Overlooked Son – Often mocked as the least favored, Eric Trump rarely gets direct attention from his father, much like Donald’s own older brother Freddy. But oh my goodness he screams for it.
Barron Trump: The Uncertain Legacy – Unlike his older siblings, Barron has been kept relatively private. Some speculate that Trump’s relative lack of public engagement with him suggests an emotional distance similar to his own father’s approach. Time will tell, and will tell if it matters to the world.
The Inheritance of Father Wounds
Donald Trump’s persona—his hyper-masculinity, his obsession with winning, and his constant need for validation—can all be traced back to his relationship with Fred Trump. And in turn, he appears to have passed these dynamics onto his own sons.
It is, in many ways, the perfect illustration of the cycle of fathers and sons. Fred Trump’s worldview shaped Donald. Donald then imposed his own version of it onto his children. And now, we watch as Don Jr. and Eric attempt to navigate their father’s legacy in the same way Donald once did with Fred’s.
Ultimately, for all of Trump’s talk of being “the best,” his story is not one of self-made success—it’s one of a man still living in his father’s shadow, perpetuating the same rigid, hierarchical approach to fatherhood that defined and discombobulated his own childhood.
One Minute Bottom Line:
Saving the world doesn’t start with protests, policies, or posturing—it starts with serious people sitting down for a sober Sunday morning conversation with their dad. If we can’t reconcile with the man who gave us life, how can we hope to fix the world? The culture war, the chaos of walls and tariffs, the endless cycle of grievance—it’s all just noise until we get this right. Fathers matter. Families matter. And if we can’t face that truth, we’re just running in circles, still…
…still trying to win an argument that started when he made you finish your brussel sprouts before you could leave the table.
…still fuming about the time he made you shake hands and apologize after getting punched in the face at hockey practice.
…still mentally drafting the comeback you didn’t have when he said, ‘My house, my rules.
…still fighting the same battle that began when he told you to turn off that F#^*in’ electric twanger (because he wouldn’t say guitar) and go outside.
…still nursing the grudge from when you heard him call you a ‘professional student’ from the next room in an argument with your mom.
…still locked in a silent, years-long Cold War over that time he insisted you were not wearing that to school and you did in fact need a coat because it was -17
…still carrying the emotional baggage from when he said, ‘What were you thinking’ after you failed to mow the lawn in straight lines and it wasn’t really a question.
…still convinced you had the moral high ground in the great ‘I’m almost 16 and I can do what I want’ debate of ‘95.
… still wishing you knew what he said when you weren’t listening (all those times) but he’s long dead and there’s no one left to ask
… still wondering, now that he’s gone, what you were thinking when you looked him right in the eye and told him you hated him.
We can't change the world if we can't get things right with our fathers.
There is no more Pyrrhic victory, nothing more hollow and hopeless, nothing sadder in the long run, than winning an argument with your father. If you’re still estranged, still chewing on some long-ago drama, still letting that old wound define your present, then it is not your father who needs to change—it’s you.