This week, Netflix released a series starring national treasure Stephen Graham, depicting a family in which the 13-year-old son has murdered a school friend who rejected him.
Over four episodes, we slowly learn how this sweet-looking boy from a cookie-cutter suburban family has committed the most heinous of acts. We begin to understand that (spoiler alert!) he has been heavily influenced and shaped by the “manosphere” – the online world populated by proponents of toxic masculinity such as Andrew Tate.
The girl rejected him, which, it is explained, is not acceptable according to the lore of red-pilling – a term that originates from the 1999 film The Matrix but has been repurposed by male supremacist movements. In this context, young men are encouraged to “take the red pill” – a completely metaphorical concept of relinquishing all notions of equality, inclusivity or kindness and realigning with their true, alpha male nature.
What’s so brilliant about this show is how normal and, in many ways, likeable the character (stunningly played by newcomer Owen Cooper) is. While the manosphere conjures up images of violent thugs and misogynists, here the boy accused of murdering his classmate is just like many of our sons, nephews, grandsons, and the children of our friends.
Many parents are saying they are too scared to watch. For some, the brutal realisation that this warped hyper-masculine ideology is no longer niche or underground is too terrifying to face. The truth is that this toxic extremism is being spoon-fed into the mainstream minds of normal kids 24/7 – and has been for a while. Only now are we beginning to see the harrowing consequences.
After 15 years of a life lived online, almost all of us have succumbed to a relationship with the screen in which we have (unwittingly) sacrificed our concentration, reading of books and mental wellbeing to a box made of metal and glass.
We can now do everything, from ordering groceries to arranging a hook-up, with the touch of a button. But millions of us have begun to question whether this convenience comes at a much higher price – and none more so than young people. A life lived online is great for finding directions or summoning a Deliveroo driver, but the growing political, cultural, social and mental disquiet that a digital life creates feels like a steep price to pay.
I work predominantly with Gen-Zers and Gen-Aers – the first true digital natives, for whom there is no knowledge or memory of a life BP (Before Phones). They have never known a world without social media or the ability to keep track of each other and the entire world 24/7. Only now are we beginning to understand the extent to which algorithms and constant screen exposure have shaped every part of them.
One of the most obvious and alarming areas where this is playing out is politics. Two generations ago, young people largely had their political and social outlooks shaped first by parents or family, then by friends and movements they became interested in. Developing an interest required effort: watching the news, reading newspapers or magazines, attending events, engaging in real-world discussions and often reading books. Whether they leaned left, right or somewhere in the middle, they still received a fairly balanced and informed view of the world.
A life less ordinary: Stephen Graham playing Eddie Millar sitting in his son’s bedroom in a scene from ‘Adolescence’ (Netflix)
Newspapers and magazines, by and large, had a legal obligation to truth and facts. They couldn’t simply proclaim that the moon was made of cheese or that women or different races had inferior brains without substantial factual and evidential backing. Similarly, past generations encountered a broad range of opinions.
It is not an exaggeration to say that for Gen Z and Gen A, social media is the media. The vast majority of their opinions and information now come from a galaxy of social media voices and spaces that opine on every issue under the sun. And this is where the problem begins.
The idea that everyone has an equal voice and that anyone with a phone can be heard was exciting in principle. It removed the old media gatekeepers, who tended to give the megaphone to a narrow group of people, and it also allowed for unfiltered news in real time – the Arab spring of 2011 being an excellent example of social media’s potential to break through censorship and political oppression.
But then things went seriously awry. Many internet historians pinpoint 2014’s “Gamergate” as the red flag that signalled the direction we were all about to head in. Gamergate targeted women in the video game industry and notable feminist voices who were accused of pushing developers towards progressive social issues. It was then that the internet took on a distinctly more hostile and bullying tone. People were harassed, doxxed and cancelled, and sides were taken.
On one side, there were the aggressive, often right-wing voices that proliferated on platforms like 4Chan, Breitbart, and the Drudge Report. On the other, there were the left-leaning, often outraged voices on Tumblr, BuzzFeed, and Jezebel. The internet became divided into distinct male and female tribes, with an atmosphere of hostility. Women were painted as shrewish, inferior feminists coming for male spaces, while men were cast as sexist abusers intent on keeping women down. Not everyone subscribed to these ideologies but many did; battle lines were drawn and the fight became entrenched.
Out of this hostility, over the course of a decade, more extreme voices emerged, encouraging young men to “take the red pill”, wake up and “take back control”. The more extreme factions of this red-pilled manosphere advocate male dominance not just through competitive gaming, fitness, or self-discipline (none of which are inherently problematic), but also through subjugating women by any means necessary, including physical, mental and sexual violence.
It is not unreasonable to say that this has spread like a virus among young men globally, with grim and tragic consequences. It often feels as though every day we hear stories of girls and women falling victim to violence at the hands of boys and men influenced by this ideology. Only last week we heard how triple killer Kyle Clifford had shown an interest in self-described misogynist and social media influencer Andrew Tate before he murdered his ex-partner, her sister and her mother.
Hertfordshire crossbow killer Kyle Clifford was said to be influenced by manosphere broadcaster Andrew Tate (Hertfordshire Police/EPA)
The tribal politics of the internet has driven the greatest chasm between boys and girls, and young men and women, in modern history. This division has led to fewer friendships, less dating, fewer happy and consensual sexual relationships, and greater overall unhappiness and lack of confidence among young people.
Tribal online politics, red-pilling and cultural warfare all play a significant role in this. If you are repeatedly told to hate or distrust a group of people, sooner or later, that belief takes hold. But while algorithms fuel this separation, the reality is that in the real world, boys and girls, men and women, must coexist. The world is not a Snapchat group where rape jokes go unchecked, nor a TikTok movement where avoiding boys is a viable option.
Real life demands that we all find a way to live together – and in this reality, rape, violence, hateful rhetoric and division have very real consequences. The most extreme of these consequences are laid bare in Adolescence – a must-watch, especially if you have teenagers.
As a society, we have been getting sicker over the last 15 years, hooked on a steady diet of screens and social media. From my work with teenagers, I have witnessed in real time how deeply this sickness has affected the young and vulnerable.
I’m not advocating a return to letter writing – we live in a technological world – but we must consider alternative solutions: old-school Nokias until kids are 15, serious efforts to regulate social media platforms and hold tech giants accountable and, most importantly, getting parents to talk to their children. Encourage them to think critically, read widely and, above all, step away from their screens and back into the real world, where they can see each other’s humanity – not just the poisonous rhetoric of influencers profiting from their misery and hate.
Because if we don’t, this sickness will only deepen – and our children will suffer the most. As the parental saying goes, we are only ever as happy as our unhappiest child. Society should take note.
Chloe Combi’s Substack is The Generation A-Z
