'We Need A Better Offer For Young Men Than What The Manosphere Is Selling'

Louis Theroux has never been afraid to walk into uncomfortable rooms. Over the years he has sat with neo-Nazis, cult leaders and conspiracy theorists, deploying his trademark calm, curious style to let his subjects reveal themselves.

His new Netflix documentary, Inside the Manosphere, takes him somewhere arguably more unsettling – not because the figures he encounters are unusual, but because they are reaching millions of ordinary young men, right now, through the phones in their pockets.

That’s why, to me, the most interesting parts of the film are the brief moments where he speaks to the fans who swarm their idols in the street as Louis follows them about their day. Many of them speak about the financial or emotional challenges they’ve faced, and their strong belief that without the doctrine of toughness and self-reliance preached by these influencers, they would have struggled to get back on their feet. They speak of feeling that through their content they learnt how to be a man.

From my time as a teacher, I recognise something in these young men. These are boys who felt overlooked, who believed the future had nothing good in store for them, until they found the strength to take their life into their own hands. However, as they continue to talk, it’s clear that these influencers have not simply endowed them with a benign self-help toolkit.

Manosphere influencers have also passed on to their fans some dangerous and aggressive views towards women, the belief that mental health conditions must be overcome without external support, and extremely disturbing conspiracy beliefs. And, revealing their true motives, influencers have also been highly effective at monetising their fanbase.

Alongside the promise that they too can overcome their troubles and gain access to the same riches, physical dominance and sexual prowess of their heroes, influencers sell them snake-oil products to get there. On private Telegram groups or fleeting livestreams, they encourage them to buy their business courses or join crypto investment schemes, with the influencers making money whether their fans win or lose. While preaching self-sufficiency, the manosphere creators have built extractive business models. These 21st Century scams are completely dependent on millions of teenage boys internalising the “red pill” ideology – a belief that the world is against them and that only by opting out of the norms of traditional work and relationships can they get ahead.

The conspiracy is, of course, false, and, as the documentary digs into, also deeply antisemitic at its root. However, it is true that for many young men, particularly those growing up in disadvantage, it is increasingly hard to make a good life. While men continue to earn more than women, it is no longer possible to support a family on a single income. Girls now outperform boys at every stage in education, with the gap particularly stark among those on free school meals. Joblessness is more likely among men, especially in working-class communities where good jobs in traditional industries have disappeared in recent decades. All this has come at a time when men’s role within the home and the community has changed, leaving men without the traditional roles that offered a sense of identity or purpose.

It is hardly a surprise that some young men would find compelling false answers to these very real challenges in the manosphere. That is why we as progressives must not shy away from the task of coming up with our own solutions to the problems they seek to answer.

But will only do this by engaging with boys themselves, and listening to them in their own words. All too often, efforts to engage with young men can start from a premise of seeing them as problems or even perpetrators in waiting, rather than as the assets to our community that are so ready to  be.

We founded the Labour Group for Men and Boys to help ensure we can do far better than this. There are already some fantastic organisations out there leading the way in working with boys and men to address problems, from the male mental health crisis and relationship challenges to lack of educational and employment opportunities.

Groups we work with, like Football Beyond Borders, demonstrate the power of trusted adults in reaching boys who might be vulnerable, whether to online radicalisation, gangs within their area or simply not engaging with education. Their highly skilled sports coaches build relationships with teenage boys on the pitch and in the classroom, to tackle issues of personal responsibility, teamwork and self-esteem. They also support schools in ensuring every child is able to have an adult they trust in the school to talk about any issues in their schoolwork, friendships or at home.

This week I was fortunate to join Everyone’s Invited for an event on the vital role men have to play in tackling sexual violence. Hearing from fantastic men and women who go into schools and workplaces it was clear that, by meeting boys and men where they are, it’s possible to have meaningful conversations, even about the most challenging issues. A crucial element of the government’s strategy for halving violence against women and girls will be ensuring that efforts to combat misogyny in schools are successful. This will require us to listen to boys and support them to have healthy relationships, rather than simply lecturing them.

The manosphere fills a void. But it’s a void that, as progressives, we’re at fault for leaving. We owe these young men far better. Not a toxic fantasy of dominance and resentment, but something older and more durable: the idea that being a good man means caring for the people around you, showing up when it’s hard, and knowing that asking for help is not weakness but wisdom.

I hope many of my colleagues watch the documentary. But we must not simply tut and shake our heads at young men for watching these influencers. We instead must ask ourselves how we will ensure every young man has someone better in their life to look up to.