Gen Z is uniquely interconnected compared to other generations, and our ever–evolving beliefs, ideologies and cultures are more widespread than ever due to the internet. Because of this, serious discussions have persisted as to the influence of the internet. The recent release of Netflix’s Adolescence has sparked a new conversation point within the current ongoing discourse about how the internet’s dangers and obstacles—such as toxic masculinity—affect how we raise our children in this new era.
The show is lauded for its technical elements—the refreshing series length of four one–hour episodes, distinct use of single–take shots, and exceptional casting—but perhaps more so, it is praised for its nuance.
Adolescence looks at different institutional structures and how they interact with the figure of the child, depicting the devastating consequences that negligence and irresponsibility can have on youth in our tech–centered world. The story follows 13–year–old Jamie Miller (Owen Cooper) and the investigation that unfolds in the wake of the shocking, gruesome murder of a fellow schoolmate, Katie Leonard (Emilia Holliday).
The first episode opens on Detective Inspector Bascombe (Ashley Walters) and Lieutenant Misha Frank (Faye Marsay) discussing Adam (Amari Bacchus), Bascombe’s son. The conversation is blasé, airy, innocuous—they are, after all, talking about a teenager. This makes the contrast between their conversation and the ensuing chaos of Jamie’s arrest by Bascombe and Frank all the more abrasive. The contrasting contexts between Adam and Jamie here highlight how one single act can transform a civilian child into a criminal overnight.
The United Kingdom, Adolescence’s locale, is infamous for its rampant, countrywide knife crime rates: In the year ending in March 2024, more than 3,200 instances of knife crime occurred, only accounting for children. The number jumps to over 50,000 when accounting for all other demographics. These statistics contextualize the story we are experiencing in a dangerous light. This is a horrific crime, and it is extremely common.
Miller’s guilt is confirmed at the end of the first episode, ending the murder mystery plot line. The larger question of the show then shifts: How could a child commit such a crime? Part of the answer materializes itself early on—the manosphere.
The manosphere is a network of online men’s communities that promote anti–feminism and traditional values. Streamers like Sneako, H. Pearl Davis, and Adin Ross, and even such prominent figures as Elon Musk, are a small number of the many men and women who continue to cultivate this community. In this environment, the stigma that emotions should be squashed is especially prominent, and often burdensome for these men. The COVID–19 pandemic exacerbated the more present issues, and created the perfect conditions for podcasts to thrive. Many of these podcasts—most notably, Fresh&Fit, a podcast and YouTube channel whose topics range from the more innocent realm of health, fitness, and financial literacy to pick–up coaching and criticising modern feminist mindsets—are now also driving forces in the increasing popularity of the Manosphere. Andrew Tate, perhaps the most popular figure in the community and also currently charged with rape and sex trafficking, is name–dropped multiple times as someone heavily responsible for the manosphere’s continued growth.
Some of these ideas are synthesized in Adolescence by Adam Bascombe, who explains concepts like the “red–pill” ideology and the 80–20 rule to his father to help him better understand the context behind the case. These are popular ideas that misattribute the fault of these men’s self–deprecating feelings and lack of romantic success onto the women they desire and, in the worst cases, can lead to real–life examples of the interpersonal violence depicted in Adolescence.
The manosphere also has loose ties to other movements, notably white supremacist ones, all of which largely share the goal of regressing society to a more traditional moment in time. For incels—men who, for a variety of reasons, consider themselves unable to attract women—this would signify a return to unquestioned dominance. Regarding the women involved in the manosphere, their motivation may be more subtle.
A study found that women held a large presence within these red pill communities, and in assessing women’s red pill subreddits, it argues for an empathetic understanding behind the motivations of the surprisingly dense proportion of women who also adhere to these internet ideas. Hamilton et al. imagines the traditional structure as a social hierarchy with “hegemonic masculinity” at the top, and right under it, “hegemonic femininity,” defined as “the most celebrated cultural ideals of womanhood in a given time and place that serve to uphold and legitimate all axes of oppression in the matrix of domination simultaneously.”
So, though the pursuit of hegemonic femininity is a detriment to progressive feminist ideals, those who embody it gain access to significant benefits under patriarchy, such as access to exclusive male partners and the ability to enforce feminine standards on other women. Even so, this pursuit of benefits only for the individual acknowledges an innate subjugation by the women to hegemonic masculinity. The men who pursue this societal reconstruction do not consider hegemonic femininity wholly legitimate or equal.
It is also interesting that Gen Z is so highly internet–dependent—a quarter of Gen Zers say they cannot make it more than an hour before wanting to use the internet, which offers a scarily clarifying lens on its popular moniker as the ‘generation raised by the internet.’ When we give impressionable youths unregulated access to such a powerful influence, we invite the internet to co–parent them. And when they apply these unvetted lessons to their own environment, it is all too clear where some of these behaviors come from and how fundamentally harmful they can be.
These issues were only exacerbated by COVID–19 and the lockdown that followed it. Podcasts and internet discourse grew in popularity, as even more people, particularly young men, found community in online forums and communities. For them, the manosphere was a collective outlining—and living out—of the life they could not attain. The Canadian Museum for Human Rights identifies the manosphere as, “… [appealing] to men who feel alienated in a changing world.” In a world where the influence of parasocial idealization on social media is growing steadily, and values offline connection less and less, it is becoming increasingly easier for these conditions to form and maintain themselves.
Adolescence’s Jamie is caught between the example set by his traditional, quick–to–anger father, Eddie Miller (Stephen Graham), as well as his lack of popularity with women, which provides his isolating circumstances. When he enters online spaces alongside his equally impressionable friends, he becomes the perfect target for the manosphere to take hold.
The first two episodes introduce various, narratively familiar character archetypes which contextualize the environment of the child, such as the popular girl through Katie, and the bully through Fredo (Austin Haynes). Episode three subverts all of it and explores the interpersonal brutality of the manosphere’s ideas and how much these archetypes and expectations can be warped by the more manipulative actors of the internet.
The episode mainly follows Jamie and his psychologist, Briony (Erin Doherty), and the conversation that unfolds between them. They’re initially very cordial, trading jokes between each other and sharing food. But when they start discussing Jamie’s understandings of masculinity, we see the culmination of these effects on Jamie. He uses mocking as a coping mechanism when he is uncomfortable and routinely becomes defensive, and eventually, even threatening. He constantly thinks of himself as “in charge” of the conversation and regularly treats violence as a joke and care as a weakness. His first instance of shouting at Briony reveals his deeper insecurities: he doesn’t like when he’s not in control, and he really doesn’t like being told what to do … especially by a woman. When he accidentally indicates his own guilt, he is quick to mention that other boys would have done the same, if not worse, almost seeking a perverse validation for his alleged restraint.
He is the product of many unfortunate intersecting conditions. The watch is difficult throughout, and Jamie’s final, heartachingly pleading question of “Do you like me, at least?” stands as an especially powerful moment in the face of his plight.
Briony’s progression throughout the scene is a metaphor for the perspective shift on Jamie from the established institutions around him. At the start, she speaks softly, kindly, and at a pace that accounts for Jamie’s fear and discomfort. As she learns more about him, her emotions become muted, and her questions grow forceful. By the end, she feels less like a psychologist and more like another interrogator. And her silence in response to Jamie’s final question signals a fundamental breakdown between the two: in the face of who and what he is, she is disgusted. She, a woman and civil servant, no longer understands him. The system—society at large—no longer understands him, because however young he may be, he has done an evil thing.
Adolescence is a painful, harrowing, and all–too–important experience. Though it may be difficult to watch, it conveys its messages effectively, highlighting the dangers of social isolation, the impact of intergenerational and communal negligence and abuse, the role of the internet in moderating reductive cultures of hate, and the gendered evaluation of the adolescent self—how Jamie thinks of women as compared to men and himself.
At the root of it all, the issues and mechanisms of the manosphere operate as a miseducation on how to handle a common crisis of connection, especially in today’s loneliness epidemic. From Eddie Miller’s neglect of his son, to his school’s dysfunctional structure and atmosphere, to his training center’s harsh, indiscriminate climate, Jamie’s present issues and mishandled emotions are only exacerbated and confirmed by his life experiences.
His application of popular manosphere beliefs and ideas to the immature school setting only confirmed his misguided, self–deprecating thoughts, and that led him to resent the girls in his life, whom he should have been raised to love and protect. But, at the end of the day, it is also true that his closest circles failed him. His father was not a good role model, his schools were not attentive enough, and his training center was not sensitive to his needs as a reactive child. Jamie most certainly bears the bulk of the responsibility for actions, but perhaps his—and our—society should take some blame too.
