Robert Bly’s Iron John, a Review

Robert Bly’s Iron John, a Review by David Bottorff

Bly, R.  (2004).  Iron John: A book about men.  Cambridge, MA: Da Capo Press

In Iron John: A book about men, Robert Bly summarizes male developmental psychology in terms of collective unconscious themes and archetypal pattern myths.  It would be unfair to summarize Bly’s thoughts as simple reiteration of Jungian theory, although Iron John can be analyzed in those terms.  The Jungian hermeneutic perspective does not do full credit to the complexity of Bly’s analysis.  As a man of letters, Bly reaches far and wide to find eloquent traction between a simple fable and mankind’s complex theories of existence.  Reading Bly’s Iron John feels like a fast motorcycle ride over rolling mountain roads of male psychology.  This book is filled with passion, with masculine energy, and with the spirit of self-discovery.  Iron John is about growing up fully alive and fully male, emerging from the chrysalis of boy psychology into the wild excitement of manhood.  He crafts an eloquent and seminal interpretation that is well worth the read, especially for those interested in what makes a man.

To articulate his developmental theories, Bly leverages the “Iron John” fairy tale published in the early 1800s as Eisenhans by German authors Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm (The Brothers Grimm).  The “Iron John” fable, which dates back in one form or another to at least the 1500s, commonly is seen as a parable about a boy becoming a man.  As Bly retells the story, he interjects analysis of the people, places and things depicted in the narrative.  Behind these symbols he finds numerous references to the collective and universal, yet often unconscious, realities by which humans have lived through the millennia.  The fable contains no literal truth but is rich in metaphoric wisdom.  “The metaphors in the ‘Iron John’ story refer to all human life, but are tuned to the psyches of men,” Bly says (p. 55).  As with most fairy tales, ‘Iron John’ is dense with implication, moving quickly from lesson to lesson.  Thus, in his explication, Bly expands a story that takes some 10 pages to tell into roughly 270 pages of fascinating insight.

Although Bly’s Iron John can be critiqued as a response to the Western feminist movement, others see the men’s movement that this book helped launch as an amplification of, not a contradiction to, key feminist principles, including respect for the individual in communion with society writ large.  Bly notes that in the 1970s women developed the ability to really say what they wanted, and that men must now learn to do the same.  Whereas patriarchy is an indefensible and perverse manifestation of boy psychology acting out through adult bodies, the mature masculine psychology is a feminist’s friend.

As Bly writes, he operates under the premise that modern Western men have become sensitive but weak.  “The journey many American men have taken into softeness, or receptivity, or ‘development of the feminine side,’ has been an immensely valuable journey, but more travel lies ahead,” Bly says (p. 4).  These “soft” men can say, “I can feel your pain,” but they cannot speak up for what they need, the author explains.  “Men are suffering right now – young men especially.  Now that so many men have gotten in touch with their grief, their longing for father and mentor connections, we are more ready to start seeing the Wild Man and to look again at initiation,” Bly says (p. 27).

In Iron John, Bly’s explicit goal is to empower men to recognize their sadness and shame, and find new power through a balance of King, Warrior, Magician and Lover archetypes.  A good review of the processes by which key boy archetypes – Divine Child, Hero, Precocious Child and Oedipal Child – develop and transform into mature masculine archetypes is provided by Robert Moore and Douglas Gillette in King, Warrior, Magician, Lover: Rediscovering the archetypes of the mature masculine. 

In terms of developmental psychology, cultivation of these archetypes can be interrupted at many stages, leaving the adult male under the influence of “shadow” archetypes.  The “Iron John” fable creates numerous liminal spaces through which the boy successfully passes.  In terms of moral development, for example, the boy transitions from heteronomous to autonomous morality as he at first acts only in his self interest to secure his gold ball, then fears formal punishment and runs away with the Wild Man, and eventually learns to sacrifice himself for the greater benefit of the kingdom.  We can examine the story in terms of the boy’s development through a psychosocial crisis, learning how to balance the guilt he feels over disobeying his father’s order to not release the Wild Man against the imperative to take initiative in the world. Or, subsequently, learning to balance the cognitive, behavioral and affective components of industriousness against feelings of inferiority for having disappointed the Wild Man.  Bly carefully notes many such liminal moments, often stretching a bit far afield to make his point.

In this reviewer’s opinion, the key to understanding the “Iron John” ferry tale, and to following Bly’s insightful analysis, is to view each character as a different aspect of one’s psyche, not as discrete players in a linear narrative.  As the story concludes, the boy, having internalized Warrior and Lover archetypes, becomes a King.  The Wild Man, having been freed to work his Magician energy, also becomes a King.  The king, having regained control of his fiefdom, is re-anointed in his King energy.  Ultimately, the boy prince emerges as heir to the thrown, securing the eternal feminine princess at his side.  All these developmental dynamics, plus many others, can be interpreted as happening simultaneously within the reader’s mind.

The greatest weakness of Bly’s Iron John is its incomplete treatment of spiritual or metaphysical developmental patterns.  Although spirituality is addressed in several respects, a traditional monotheist may find themselves a bit out of sorts.  Such subsequent men’s movement authors as Richard Rohr do an excellent job contextualizing male developmental psychology for those with more traditional spiritual beliefs.

In men’s work, retelling the “Iron John” fable often concludes at the point the boy charges off into the wilderness with the Wild Man he freed using a key from under his mother’s pillow.  For me, the main fulcrum or liminal threshold occurs shortly thereafter, when the boy fails to protect a golden well Iron John charges him with guarding.  The guilt and shame associated with failing to meet a father figure’s expectations is huge and can greatly influence a boy’s development for years to come.  But Iron John’s assignment is essentially impossible to fulfill, especially for a young boy.  What no one explained to me as a child, is that disappointing one’s self and those we admire is part of the descent and ascent pattern that allows a boy to break free from his mother-father bonds and emerge in his own right as a balanced man.  Failure is part of the game – a key component behind recognizing my humanity, internalizing my humility, and accepting my role as part of the human race.