If you squint hard enough at history, you'll find that almost nothing is new. Case in point: a century before podcast bros were selling you testosterone supplements and ice baths, there was Bernarr MacFadden - a jacked, self-made health guru who had basically already done all of it.
According to a deep dive by GQ, MacFadden was the original wellness influencer for the anxious American male. We're talking about a man who built an empire around physical culture, raw food obsessions, anti-vaccine screeds, and a particular brand of muscular masculinity that would feel completely at home on any manosphere subreddit today.
Same energy, different century
The parallels are kind of stunning. MacFadden operated during a period when authoritarianism was having a moment globally and American men were feeling some kind of way about their place in the world. Sound familiar? His solution was the same one being peddled today: get strong, distrust institutions, and whatever you do, don't let the mainstream medical establishment tell you what to put in your body.
He was pro-war, deeply suspicious of conventional medicine, and absolutely convinced that physical strength was the antidote to societal decay. He even had the proto-podcast energy down - just replace a Spotify studio with a publishing empire and a series of live spectacles where he'd show off his physique like a Victorian-era OnlyFans.
Why this actually matters
It would be easy to write MacFadden off as a historical curiosity - a fun weird footnote for trivia night. But the GQ piece makes a more unsettling point. The anxieties MacFadden was tapping into aren't bugs in American culture, they're features. Every generation of men who feel displaced, confused, or threatened by change seems to produce someone ready to sell them a fitness routine wrapped in reactionary politics.
The delivery mechanism changes. The pamphlet becomes the paperback becomes the YouTube channel becomes the Rumble stream. But the core product - masculine reinvention through physical discipline, combined with a healthy distrust of experts - stays remarkably consistent.
The uncomfortable takeaway
MacFadden wasn't just a weirdo ahead of his time. He was a symptom of something recurring. And understanding that the manosphere has a century-old blueprint - complete with anti-establishment health advice and a very strong opinion about what makes a real man - might be the most useful piece of context you'll get this week.
History doesn't repeat itself, they say. But apparently it does renew its subscription every couple of decades.
