The vice-presidential candidate is a rare type of politician

Tim Walz’s very public journey over these past few months has been intriguing in terms of a fresh brand of masculinity in the public arena.

Democratic vice presidential candidate Tim Walz. Picture: AFP

Who knows if Minnesota governor Tim Walz will be relegated to a mere footnote in history after the first Tuesday in November, or become central to the future of our increasingly fractious planet as deputy leader of the Free World. But Walz’s very public journey over these past few months has been intriguing in terms of a fresh brand of masculinity in the public arena.

When I think of Walz my mind goes back, specifically, to a YouTube clip from last year, when he signed into history free school meals for Minnesota students in need. I’m drawn to it, drawn to the man leading with joy. His empathetic way of being in that moment feels like an antidote to these cynical, violent, deeply divided times, when leadership is so often characterised by fearmongering.

Walz is seated at a table, surrounded by primary school children, having just signed the decree. One child cuddles him, then with a contagious momentum they all pile in, wanting a piece of the action. The kids are comfortable in that man’s orbit. It’s natural, warm and beautifully, quietly masculine. There’s no fear from the children, no cowering to power. This is a man at ease with himself.

It’s the persona, of course, of the daggy dad. A way of being much mocked in popular culture; the butt of numerous sitcoms and films and a trope rarely celebrated in public life. But Walz dishes up the stereotype with a warm sense of authority. It’s the neighbour who clears your gutter then falls off the ladder and says “All good” before putting everything back. The bloke who gets rid of the huntsman – on the inside of your windshield. The footy coach guiding the girls’ netball team without shouting or angst but with fairness and chuff. The stranger unthinkingly rescuing the child in the surf. He’s a lot of men around us, in what feels like the embodiment of an everyday yet consistent generosity.

A tradie recently told me that in her line of work, you can always tell the people who’ve never had to share a television growing up. “There are ones that give, and ones that take. Compromise is learnt.” Back in her day, you had to watch what mum and dad wanted to. “And if that meant the Nana Mouskouri show, then so be it.” That’s a Walz, I thought at the time. It feels like how he’s been raised. Looking outward, to others; living a life of unthinking service, to family and community.

Tracy Frederick Corcoran took classes with Walz and his wife when they were both teachers. “Between Tim and Gwen, those were two people in the school that were always there for students,” Corcoran explained. “Both had this magic of helping you see possibilities and potential in yourself, that maybe you didn’tactually know was there.” It was a CV busy with goodness. How many of us can claim that?

Toni Morrison once said, “I just think goodness is more interesting. Evil is constant. You can think of different ways to murder people, but you can do that at age five. But you have to be an adult to consciously, deliberately be good, and that’s complicated.” Goodness is courageous. Evil, easy.

The impression of Walz’s character: a man not dominating and controlling but listening and lifting. It was there, on both sides actually, in the recent vice-presidential debate that had a surprising degree of civility to it. Walz is a man who does not seem to do intimidation, and it is refreshing in a politician. The world needs to inhale the spirit of the good men around us, to teach us all, but especially young males. We need to celebrate more loudly the pulse of masculine goodness, so often taken for granted. I tip my hat to the example of masculinity Walz has gifted us over recent months, whether he endures in the public eye or not.