Introduction
The release of Adolescence, a 4-part drama on Netflix examining a teenager accused of murder, has propelled discussions about the manosphere, school-aged boys, and social media access to the forefront of British news. In the show, 13-year-old Jamie is accused of murdering classmate Katie, and it is revealed by the end of the first episode that Jamie was indeed the killer. As the show’s creator and writer, Stephen Graham, has described it, Adolescence is a ‘whydunnit,’ rather than a ‘whodunnit,’ and focuses on exploring Jamie’s motive.
According to a classmate, Katie had rejected Jamie when he tried to ask her out and called Jamie an ‘incel’ online (Episode 2). She had been referring to him as an ‘involuntary celibate’; in the programme, this indicates him being unable to attract female attention, but also nods to the broader online movement within the manosphere. Inceldom is composed of men connected by a lack of sexual access to women; groups are characterised not only by a sense of self-hatred, but also by an intense level of misogyny in response to the perceived injustice of their celibacy.
Prime Minister Keir Starmer has held a round table meeting with the writers and other stakeholders involved in school youth behaviour. The show has triggered a series of debates over what the manosphere is and how it may threaten our young people. This Insight aims to contribute to the debate around Adolescence, clarifying what the viral show got right about the manosphere, and what it may have got wrong. It argues that while Adolescence has points of startling accuracy and has encouraged important debates around the subject, it did not fully represent the dynamics of the manosphere and how young people tend to interact with its ideas. It has also triggered somewhat of a knee-jerk reaction regarding the regulation of technology within schools, which, while a key aspect of the conversation, arguably distracts from the ideological concepts of the programme.
Unpacking Incel Ideology on Screen
Adolescence touches on elements of the manosphere that have not previously been thoroughly discussed in mainstream media, namely ‘Red Pilling’ and the ‘80/20 Rule’.
The idea of ‘Red Pilling’ is a well-established concept within incel research communities. It argues that those subscribing to incel ideology have taken ‘the red pill’, mirroring the decision posed in the Matrix whether to take a red pill, which allows you to see the world as it truly is, or a blue pill, which prolongs your false, but comfortable, perception of the world. The world ‘as it truly is’ tends to reflect a strict sexual hierarchy, characterised by the 80/20 rule. This dictates that 80% of women are only attracted to 20% of men, and that any men who fall outside of that top 20% are destined to a life without female attention. That is, unless, as DI Bascombe’s son Adam puts it in episode 2 of Adolescence, “you trick them”. Adolescence does a good job of covering these concepts, and the popularity of the programme has brought the terms into the public domain. However, it might have painted a slightly clearer depiction of how incel ideology might denote violence or self-hatred if it had also explored the “Black Pill.” The Black Pill is the belief that one is powerless in a system perceived of sexual unfairness, often leading to hopelessness and even suicidal thoughts. While Red Pilling denotes acknowledging their incel status, the Black Pill denotes feeling that this status is inescapable. Considering around 95% of incels subscribe to the Black Pill, it is a significant aspect of incel culture which Adolescence does not mention.
One area which Adolescence focuses closely on is the use of emojis in incel communities. While the programme prompts relevant discussions around encoded language, it only skims the surface of these dynamics, and does so at risk of oversimplifying. In short, emojis are sometimes used within incel forums to denote certain meanings. However, as argued by Palmer, “worries that the codes used by the young conceal moral corruption are not new”, and emojis in themselves are certainly not inherently harmful. While there is truth to the discussion surrounding emojis, Adolescence could have made the same point with more accuracy if they were to delve into the language variations and dog-whistling which exists within communities. It might have been better for the show to reference ‘Chads’ and ‘Stacey’s’, terms such as ‘foid’ (a contraction of ‘female’ and ‘humanoid’ used as a dehumanising term for women) or ‘rapecel’ (an incel who resorts to rape to ‘solve’ their sexual frustration). Referring to peers or oneself as a ‘Supreme Gentleman’ – referencing incel killer Elliot Rodger, or discussing ‘ropefuel’ (content which makes one suicidal) also would have been warrented. Overall, while emojis do play a part in some incel spheres, ‘hidden’ language tends to consist of coveted language features and cultural references; the blunt use of emojis would likely be considered heavy-handed, and rather uncool to many users.
Triggers for Incel-inspired violence
Throughout, Katie’s allegedly bullying comment and rejection of Jamie are depicted as his central motives for committing her murder, alongside a broader sense that Jamie and his friends were socially ostracised. While parts of the depiction are accurate, there are some misrepresentations of how incel-inspired violence is typically triggered.
Social validation is important to incels; feeling like a sexual and social outcast constructs a sense of worthlessness. This justifies revenge because incels believe that women are responsible for their being an outcast by denying them sex. However, this concept is nuanced. While rejection can be a triggering moment, it is not rejection itself which typically radicalises someone into inceldom. Many teenagers experience romantic rejection or teasing and may experience a justified sensation of pain as a result. What Adolescence does not explain is the role of ‘aggrieved entitlement’, whereby “some men perceive bullying, social isolation, and/or romantic rejection, as an attack on their masculine identity which is unjust and humiliating, and so feel entitled to hurt others who are perceived to have caused such injustice.” It is this violation of a perceived entitlement to a woman’s body, and the subsequent feeling of humiliation, rather than rejection itself, which produces such an extreme response.
Upon speaking to his own adolescent son Adam, Detective Bascombe reveals to his co-worker that “Katie was bullying Jamie, that’s what it was. Incel stuff, you know what that is” (Episode 2). The line is delivered as if stabbing a girl seven times is a normal response to being bullied, and that inceldom only contributes to violence as a term of insult, which might make a young man feel socially excluded. As argued by Manne, Adolescence falls short by depicting Katie as the driving factor in Jamie’s radicalisation; in reality, “intra-masculine competition… and a sense that your status as a man is dependent on outdoing your peers in “getting women” is a far more dominant factor. Manne also makes a powerful and thoroughly accurate point that by depicting Katie as the driving force, the programme at times borders on victim-blaming. In reality, inceldom is far more about the perception that one is being rejected or bullied than actual bullying. While rejection does play some part in incel violence, the script fails to describe how engaging with inceldom and misogyny as an extremist ideology would justify making that leap. As a result, there is a level to which the watcher is encouraged to over-sympathise with Jamie as a boy who snapped in the face of classroom bullying, a victim of teasing rather than a broader ideological movement.
Policy Suggestions: Smart Phones and Adolescence in Schools
Off the back of Adolescence, there has been a flood of political pressure to respond to incel violence. This, in many ways, is the biggest credit of the programme; it has mainstreamed debates, and shown that incel ideology is a threat worth taking seriously. Firstly, Jack Thorne, one of the writers behind Adolescence, has suggested that smartphones should be banned for under-16s; he expanded further to explain that, where this wasn’t possible, the introduction of a digital age of consent would also be useful. Thorne’s call for “radical” action is both understandable and important in terms of holding technology companies accountable for extremist exploitation of their platforms. However, while certainly well-intended, there is a risk of simplifying the threat of incel violence to a solely tech-based issue. Incel violence, however, is equally to do with young people and misogyny. Arguably, by making sweeping technological bans, we risk ignoring the rise in misogyny that 1/3 of teachers in England have reported. While moderation and discussions with technology companies are essential to combat inceldom, there must be some awareness that misogynist violence did not begin, and is not solely grown, online. Misogyny grows in the home, in the streets, in the classroom. As a result, while public awareness of the danger of the online space is welcomed, this must be coupled with an understanding of the role of misogyny itself in the spread of incel ideology. We cannot allow the message in Adolescence to be reduced to a well-rehearsed moral panic over young people being corrupted by the latest technology, met with an outright ban on devices without a more thorough debate around masculinity, gender and feminism across all parts of life.
On the 31st of March, Netflix made Adolescence available to all secondary schools. This followed calls from students and backing from Kier Starmer for the programme to be displayed in schools to encourage discussions about the manosphere in school environments; it would be coupled with ‘anti-misogyny lessons’ to “counter misogyny and the growing appeal of influencers such as Andrew Tate”. In some regards, this is a positive step towards the aforementioned need to understand inceldom as an issue which, while being tech-based, is still strongly linked to a cultural relationship with masculinity and inter-personal misogyny. However, Adolescence is first and foremost a fictional story, not a documentary, and was not created as an educational tool. Furthermore, due to some misrepresentations of incel violence, there is a risk that showing the programme may complicate school’s attempts to deal with misogyny rather than help. There has already been a selection of posts on TikTok claiming that Katie’s bullying warranted her death; one comment saying “He was bullied and finally just snapped. That’s what happens when feminists try to shove their ideologies down our throats.” This type of victim blaming sits uncomfortably close to many of the comments in incel forums which followed the real life Isla Vista shootings. Srinivasan summarised the response on incel forums in The Right to Sex (2021); “Had one of those wicked bitches had just fucked Elliot Rodger, he wouldn’t have had to kill anyone. With the rise in misogyny in schools, and teachers repeatedly referencing a lack of resources or guidance on how to deal with it, there may not be the guidelines in place to handle the possible reactions or classroom discussions which could emerge from showing Adolescence in schools. That is not to say that we should shy away from conversations around misogyny, but that we should ensure that teachers are equipped with the resources, guidelines and assistance needed to tackle the conversations which could follow showing students Adolescence. Considering some responses to Katie’s murder online, it would be naïve to assume that students would immediately condemn Jamie’s actions as wrong.
Conclusion
Adolescence has platformed important conversations about the nexus between tech trust and safety, young people and misogyny. However, it is not a documentary, and must be examined alongside commentary from P/CVE researchers and online safety experts to build a comprehensive picture of the manosphere, and subsequently produce a helpful roadmap for the future. While examining the relationship between teenagers and phones is important, extremist misogyny does not only exist within the dark corners of the online space; tackling the manosphere requires a more holistic view to understand the broader picture of harm. Moving forward, we must not risk simplifying the manosphere to emoji-fuelled playground bullying, combated through blanket phone bans. Instead, we must conceptualise the manosphere as a conglomeration of unchecked misogyny and exposure to harmful ideologies within the online space, which has the potential to result in extreme violence.