“Who’s the best city?” bellows the master of ceremonies at the American Legion Boys State of Virginia, a week-long mock-government program for rising high school seniors. It is only the first day, but he knows this will make the crowd go crazy. “Brad-ley!” “Ei-sen-hower!” “Pull-er Ci-ty!” the boys chant competitively. Only hours earlier, the 450 participants were randomly assigned to one of a dozen “cities” named after a famous general. Their patriotic loyalty to their cohort is already beginning to show. 

Forty wide-eyed teenagers pack into the dormitory lounge. Mr. Myers, Mr. Doug, and I—the counsellors for “Patton”—introduce ourselves. Mr. Myers is the counsellor-in-charge, and he kindly explains the behaviour expectations. Sensing my energy, he lets me interject. I excitedly explain the importance of following behavioural rules in winning the coveted Best City Award. The reactions of the boys are mixed. Some seem ready. But others are skeptical of seven o’clock wake-ups and strict room inspections. 

The Best City Award is the crown jewel of Boys State. Measured by a complex quantitative ranking system, it is given to the most unified and successful city. Best City points are earned by getting citizens elected to state office, writing thoughtful pieces of legislation, and winning the moot-court competition, alongside other special honours. Demerits are given for tardiness, lack of participation, violation of the uniform code, and failing room inspections. Not every citizen will earn the city points, but every citizen can lose them. Many cities have blown their Best City prospects by racking up room demerits on the first morning. To prevent this imminent danger, the city needs a leader. And that leader will be the boy elected sheriff.  

The cities I have served under have always surprised me with their sheriff selections. On the one hand, the military-school cadets are the safe options: people who understand routine and could enforce the rules while keeping their cool. However, more laid-back sports captains promised a wild and fun week. Yet the sheriffs the boys elect have always been soft-spoken, supremely confident, and kind-hearted. In my three years on staff, I have never witnessed a sheriff raise his voice. The moment the candidate began to speak, the boys realized, This is someone I am willing to follow. They followed him out of respect, and eventually out of personal affection. The delegates followed their leader through early wake-ups, meticulous inspection requirements, tight schedules, and strict uniform codes.  

With the election of our sheriff, we counsellors stepped back. The boys were off to the races, with a clear mission: Win the Best City Award. 

Proving Ourselves

Being the boys that they were, my delegates were quick to rally behind the cause of beating everyone else. Perhaps I had been a little too energetic in my pitch to win Best City. They knew I wanted to win and wanted to prove themselves worthy of the title. 

The boys wear their patriotism on their sleeves. We counsellors are a little more subdued, but that does not mean we are any less enthusiastic. We want those under our care to flourish. We know that written in the futures of these young men is the future of our civilization. And, yes, we too rally behind the cause of beating everyone else. 

I had special cause for propping up our city. For the past two years, I have trained under Mr. Seavey, the counsellor I had when I was a participant in Boys State. Mr. Seavey was an excellent counsellor, hilarious and shrewd. He and I spent two years as a successful counselling team. But to give me a new perspective on counselling, Mr. Seavey decided it was time for me to take on a new role. I was transferred to Mr. Myers’s city. Whether deliberate or not, I went into Boys State feeling I had been trusted with a new responsibility and now had something to prove. I needed to show Mr. Seavey that I was not just riding his coattails. I admired him. I wanted to show him I could mentor my boys well.  

So, for the week, I let my competitive side show. The boys joined in. 

Being Needed

The city is as strong as its weakest member. All it takes to do critical damage to Best City prospects is for one delegate to not wear his belt, not make his bed, or not show up to a mandatory session. And I have seen many delegates moved to act, if only begrudgingly, through the pressure exerted by the common cause. As a delegate told me, no one wants the shame of being the person who ruined it for everyone. 

Inevitably many cities fall off the rails. They become the cities our delegates use to console themselves: “Well, at least we are not as juvenile and cruel as the City of James.” It should not surprise anyone that forty young men, many of whom are high-wired by screen addictions, will clash with one another. What surprises me is when they unite, like soldiers marching to battle. They pursue intense but friendly competition, like service members in different branches of the military. They shed their self-interest and find themselves parts in the broader whole. When a delegate secures the nomination for governor, his city delights with him. When one part of the body politic flourishes, all do.  

Boys State is deliberately designed to promote male camaraderie and civically oriented friendship. The mock government akin to the principles of Aristotle’s Ethics, in which the purpose of the polis is to cultivate unity around a cause worth fighting for. Whether that cause is a nation, a family, or an arguably “meaningless” trophy, each boy is drawn out of himself and into membership with the team. Such membership is one of the healthiest expressions of masculinity.  

The boys are not all equally gifted; some are better speakers, some more natural leaders, some better athletes. Many come from wealthy suburbs outside the nation’s capital, others from working-class and poorer communities. Some are America First conservatives, others progressive liberals (after all, this is a mock government camp). Some come missing their parents, buddies, or girlfriends, while others are happy to have a week free from the anxieties at home. But in their differences the boys find common cause. Each of them is needed.  

High Climbers

The most ambitious achievers at Boys State seek the honour of attending Boys Nation. Hosted in the nation’s capital, the Boys Nation program invites a hundred boys every year to create a mock national government, with each Boys Nation senator drafting a piece of legislation. The senators meet national leaders—from their congressmen to the secretary of defense. The Boys Nation selection committee has a detailed profile of a successful candidate. Stoic cadets? Not interested. Policy wonks? No thanks. Personable, confident, and friendly young men are the ideal. Our city’s nominee was one of our moot-court competitors who served as city chaplain. While he had no political experience or ambition, his kind heart and servant leadership shone in his interview and personal interactions. Mr. Seavey and I had mentored three Boys Nation candidates, and all of them became either a senator or an alternate. Mr. Seavey taught me what a Boys Nation winner looked like, and I saw it in our candidate. 

A Boys Nation candidate has many motivating factors to excel in the final interview. Senators and alternates receive a $2,000 scholarship for starters. Perhaps less tangibly, there is no other program with similar connections to influential politicians or military leaders. But our candidate was less interested in such things. What piqued his motivation was that becoming a senator or alternate earned considerable Best City points. Curious, I asked him why the Best City Award mattered to him. He told me, “You know, I could do this for myself, or I could do this for my brothers.” While he did not go all the way, our candidate was named alternate, which got him the scholarship, the résumé line, and the ability to visit the Boys Nation session. More importantly to him, it racked up big Best City points for his brothers. 

Potential Energy

Giving the boys the responsibility of running a state government often leads to absurd occurrences. The state House of Delegates, seeking to promote “self-expression” and limit the coercive power of social stigma, passed—unanimously—a bill that would largely eliminate public indecency prohibitions. The state Senate, populated with more pragmatic legislators, overwhelmingly rejected the bill. In protest, the state House derailed a joint session of the legislature to pressure the Senate into reconsideration, where, after lively debate, the bill passed, eventually to become Boys State law. One delegate told me the boys took the serious things seriously and the unserious things less so. The legislature passed bills pertaining to the advancement of the educational system, the promotion of mental health initiatives, and even improvement of water quality. When given responsibility, the boys exercised their freedom to be outrageous, hilarious, boyish, and thoughtful.

As a substitute teacher in local elementary schools, I once had a second-grade boy spend the entire lunch period telling me about his successes on the Little League baseball team. He was always trying to tell me something he did in hopes that I would find him impressive. He was not prideful, but he sought affirmation. Our delegates, about a decade older, were not that different as they asked, “Will this get us points?” And they would swell with pride when I told them that, yes, being named Best Parliamentarian, being appointed to the colour guard, or overthrowing the House minority leader and replacing him with one of our own did earn points for Best City. They cheered when I, nervous as could be, told them halfway through that, by my calculations, we were very much in the running for Best City (neck and neck with Mr. Seavey). 

Our top performers swelled with joy when I told them the obvious truth that they had immense potential. One delegate from our city thrived as House majority leader. At the end of the week, he addressed a packed auditorium of the delegates and their families, updating them on the progress of the chamber. Over a thousand people were in that crowd, and yet our majority leader spoke with nonchalant confidence, as if he were addressing his friends in the city meeting room. He even made the parents laugh. Boys State is a medium to reveal so many boys’ potential. 

Hope Abounds

I share these stories about Boys State because they give hope in a time when the conversation about young men seems hopeless. I empathize with parents who feel pessimistic. The public school system has jarringly few male role models. In every elementary school classroom I substitute for, I am frequently referred to as “Ms. Hat.” When I correct them, I am told that I am the first “boy teacher” they have ever had. No wonder the boys flock to me. 

Places where positive visions of masculinity are cultivated are in decline. The Boy Scouts of America has lost its way by using “inclusivity” as a mechanism to stop helping mould the unique natures of boys and young men. The State of California essentially legislated its Boys State out of existence, compelling a coeducational alternative. Failing young men in such ways does not benefit young women. The young women I know tell me they are worse off because of malformed young men, not more empowered. 

Yet hope abounds. The American Legion is not alone in combining hope and action to overturn our culture’s trend of letting down our young men. The State of California, to its great credit, launched new initiatives to increase the number of male teachers. Alternatives to Scouting have exploded in popularity.  

American Legion Boys State is far from the last line of defence for shaping healthy masculinity, but it remains a powerful example of what our next generation of citizens can do. Young men uniting behind a cause, rooted initially in a longing for glorious victory, eventually fight for the cause of each other. 

Winning the Game

I am keen to emphasize that despite what my descriptions above might suggest, Boys State is an unserious place. Many of the boys are wild, others zany; still more are as awkward and shy as you might expect. Some do not buy into citizenship within the city; they choose the easy way out—putting themselves before the team. And yet the young men persevere. They try. They fail. They act like boys. They prepare to be men. 

The titles of Best City, Best Citizen, House majority leader, and moot courter all have truly little meaning outside the program. A delegate of mine joked to me how the city would go crazy when they heard that someone from our city became the “Nationalist Party nominee for attorney general,” giving the city five points toward the Best City Award. He would jubilantly call his mother to share the news and would hear, “Oh. That is very nice, honey.” The value of these positions is only that ascribed to them by the delegates.  

And the boys ascribe immense value to these titles, because of their longing to win the game. With a goal to strive for together, partisan lines, ideological divisions, and other barriers crumble. Looking upward, with something to prove, is their motivator, as it was mine. 

After the Boys State graduation ceremony, I glanced at my phone. It showed a new text from Mr. Seavey. “Film the Best City announcement from your angle. Wink wink nod nod.”  

I grinned. Mr. Seavey’s city had placed second.