TALK TO THE GOOD BOYS!

Listen: https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/you-dont-know-me/id1545582529

Four years ago, I had a hit podcast called You Don’t Know Me, which was number one on Apple and received rave reviews. It focused on the lives of teenagers—then Generation Z. A lot has changed in the last four years, not least the youngest generational shift from Gen Z to Gen Alpha. So, considering the work and research I’ve done in that time, alongside the global conversation around the Netflix series Adolescence, I decided to host a screening for the Gen Zs I knew from You Don’t Know Me. They brought along their Gen Alpha younger siblings and friends.

IN A SCREENING ROOM IN East London that operates as an afterschool club for teenagers. There were 103 young people in attendance, a mix of male and female (60/40), aged between 12 and 22. I was curious. While a lot has been written by adults about this show, what did their children think? I wasn’t going to be disappointed. They came with opinions.

The night was emotional and thought-provoking, but one word stayed with me most of all—hope—something I feel many parents and carers really need to hear right now.

For those still uninitiated, Adolescence depicts the fallout after 13-year-old Jamie Miller murders his female classmate. It transpires that the very likeable and seemingly normal Jamie has been heavily radicalised by online manosphere culture, which has warped his view of women and girls—a tragic global reality today. Alongside a growing chasm between the genders, many point to a rise in violence against women and girls as a direct consequence of some of the more extreme online ideologies.

Watching Adolescence as an adult is a jarring experience because it pulls back the curtain on a world that every teenager with a phone is potentially exposed to. But watching it with teenagers and young adults made me realise that, while the problem is prevalent among young people, the solutions might lie with them too.

One of the aspects of the show that has been overlooked is that Ashley Walters’ character’s son, Tommy (played brilliantly by Lewis Pemberton), is a good lad. He’s quietly thoughtful, tidies up after others, and is clearly trying to get on in a difficult school where he is openly bullied and taunted—something that happens in plain sight but is ignored. It is Tommy who opens his dad’s eyes to the toxic world his classmates are lost in. We must remember that there are many boys like Tommy, and we should be talking to them more to understand what is going right for them—just as I did last night.

Sixteen-year-old Elijah tells me: “Some of my mates have totally fallen for Andrew Tate, but lots haven’t. I think it’s more of a Year 8 and 9 thing. He’s so obviously out for himself, and I’ve also got loads of girl mates.

“I think a big difference for me was my older brother, who took the p*** out of Tate from day one, so it was always hard to take him seriously.”

Elijah’s older brother, Remy, 22, explains: “The thing I noticed straight away was that Tate and his lot took themselves so fing seriously. Back in the day, that was a sign of a bit of a w*****.”

He laughs. “The funny thing about being a teenager was all the mad jokes you had with your boys and girls. All this manosphere stuff is so bleak and angry—everyone’s your enemy, hate anyone not like you, blah, blah. I didn’t want that for Elijah. Ranting and raving about Tate wouldn’t help, so I took the p*** out of him. I mean, the man paints his Bugatti brown. He’s an idiot.”

The role of mentorship—and Remy’s point that we may have taken the wrong approach with Tate and other manosphere figures—is a powerful one. Banning Tate and turning him and his ideas into a taboo has only elevated his status and outlaw image. What seems to work much better is reasonable discussion, where boys are given a non-judgemental space to explore why these ideas have such appeal.

Rhys, 13, explains: “We get told off in school if we even mention Andrew Tate. My friend got a lunchtime detention for saying his role models were Andrew Tate and Elon Musk. That’s not fair.

“The girls like people who say bad things about men—I can’t think of who—but it’s true, and girls are way meaner to each other than we are. Because we got into trouble, it kind of proves what Andrew Tate is saying about boys not having the same rights, and I don’t even agree with everything he says!”

Hayley, 15, has mixed feelings about manosphere voices being banned from school: "It's gotten quite messed up - some boys I really liked two years ago who have gotten into the stuff in Adolescence have gotten so aggressive and angry - especially about anything to do with women's rights or anything to do with equality. But when my school banned discussion about Andrew Tate, some of the boys were happy, because it was like they had proof people were against them. But honestly, social media is so insane now, I think it's making everyone a bit crazy. I honestly wish some days it didn't ever get made.

One of the major factors behind so many young people falling for toxic online communities is the loss of real-life ones. Without exception, the happiest kids I know—especially boys—are those who have an in-person community outside their family and the online world.

It doesn’t matter whether it’s a football club, drama club, boxing gym, youth group, or religious organisation—just a community that gives young people access to positive role models, real-life connections (not just online), and the opportunity to participate in something meaningful. The dismantling of communities in this country has been a quiet scandal and unmistakeable tragedy because it has created a void that toxic online figures have rushed to fill.

Chris, 15,neatly illustrates what happens when that doesn’t happen. “I honestly didn’t even know what an ‘incel’ was until I saw this film. I go to cricket and football most days after school and on weekends. I would definitely say the boys in my form who are more into this stuff are the ones who spend all their time gaming and online. They talk about Andrew Tate and some of that manosphere stuff way more than my close mates do. I don’t have time for it and barely even use Snapchat anymore.”

Perhaps the most interesting conversation I had was with Lewis, now 18, a devout Christian who is extremely active in his East London church. He hopes to become a priest one day, has eschewed all social media, and mentors younger boys.

“I try to show younger boys what a grift it all is. When you break it down, it’s always about selling you something. Want to be a better man? Buy my course, or pills, or workout routines, or books.

“You can be a better man for free every single day. Look after your little sister, help your mum, do the shopping for an elderly neighbour, go for a run somewhere beautiful. But that doesn’t make money for someone getting rich off all this.”

Lewis’ point about how teenage rage and pain are ultimately being commodified is an important one. Andrew Tate and manosphere influencers—like most influencers—don’t really care about their followers. They care about the zeroes in their bank accounts. Teenagers understand this and don’t like it. To borrow a popular teenage saying, we should focus less on the players and more on the game itself.

Jamie Miller in Adolescence can rightly be seen as a victim—a young boy broken on the wheel of tech companies that have long understood how lucrative angry, upset, confused, and lonely teenagers can be.

So, what proper and focused action can we take to help teenagers feel less angry, upset, confused, and lonely? Last night’s screening gave some clues. We should encourage and foster mentorship in schools, teams, and communities. As Gareth Southgate rightly pointed out this week, boys in particular are in desperate need of positive role models and a sympathetic ear.

The kids are bored, gyms are expensive—so why not prioritise bringing back communities and clubs? The fallout of COVID-19 lockdown’s was real—lest we forget, playgrounds reopened after shops, golf clubs, and pubs, while schools were the last places to reopen, bar care homes. The defunding and gutting of social hubs and services for young people have directly contributed to the growth of damaging online communities.

I also think banning manosphere content and figures gives them a power they don’t deserve. Instead, we should ‘Wizard-of-Oz’ them—pull back the curtain and reveal their true motives.

This is undoubtedly a fight for our kids—but it’s not one we have to lose. Let’s make more informed choices with them (it can’t feel punitive) about smartphones, social media, and the content they consume. Young people who are listened to, engaged, and given a sense of purpose and hope are far less vulnerable. It takes a village to raise a child—let’s do it, for all young people.