Opinion
Louis Theroux’s Netflix sensation Into the Manosphere should make every parent and educator in Australia deeply uncomfortable.
It shows a generation of young men being drawn toward online voices that promise power, certainty and identity – while stripping them of empathy, connection and respect.
I’m urging that we focus compassionately on boys – especially in schools – because I’m worried sick about them. I abhor their development into hollow young men who are either too scared or too arrogant to approach a young woman in a pub and kick-start a relationship.
And despite the risk of coming off as that old white guy who mines his own history for all the answers, I want families and schools to unite in building boys who become men who nervously approach women in pubs … just like I did.
The fear I felt from a high-stakes interaction at Leggies bar in 1990s Frankston was more valuable than it seemed. It equipped me with the courage and vulnerability to navigate relationships as I matured into a man because I had to face potential rejection, recover from it and try again.
And now more than ever, men need relationships. Unfortunately, men have become about as good at establishing and sustaining them as 18-year-old me was at flirting.
Sadly, Leggies closed down and with relationships now almost universally spawning from the relative safety of Tinder and Bumble, men are retreating from the relationship game to their detriment.
They’re resorting to the next swipe right and to the illusion of porn while still living in their parents’ homes, often into their 30s. This is a path to loneliness.
Theroux artfully illustrates where that retreat can lead: young men absorbing a version of masculinity built on dominance, grievance and detachment from real relationships. It’s not hard to see how boys disconnected from women in real life become vulnerable to those messages online.
Be in no doubt, there is a masculinity crisis. Men comprise 92 per cent of our adult prisoner population. They’re three times more likely than females to take their own lives. Men are overrepresented in homelessness and drug addiction data.
And, as Theroux points out, there’s almost nothing as dangerous to society as the new breed of lonely, isolated, angry and asexual males that we’re cultivating. Young men need to learn the consequences of their behaviour and schools are uniquely positioned to help them. With the support of families, our schools can help show boys how to form and stay in healthy relationships.
Modern communities increasingly shield boys from the experiences that shape them into decent men. We frown upon risky behaviour and rough play as beneath an enlightened citizen. This denies the empathy installed when one faces the social implications of crossing the line.
We insist that boys don’t need to learn through trial-and-error play, and instead make a poster about respectful relationships. Then we’ll whack them with a detention or suspension should they err.
These approaches fail. You don’t get better at respectful relationships by painting murals of friends holding hands – you just get better at murals. And removing boys from the school-based opportunity to make amends denies them critical practice. Relational competence is not learnt from a textbook or from writing lines. It’s learnt through painful – yet rich – human interactions, with mates, mentors and in the community.
Many schools are noticing that their attempts to build better men are failing. Sheep-dip relationship programs aren’t working. However, a distinct cohort is rising to the challenge. Schools using restorative practices, alongside consistent mentoring, are seeing improvements in male suspension rates, stronger relationships with peers and staff – particularly where boys have disrespected female teachers – and boys learning how to stay in the community rather than be cast out.
The research on suspensions is clear – every suspension avoided is a boy who stays connected to uncomfortable but valuable growth.
While these boys aren’t necessarily going to record better NAPLAN scores straight away, they are less likely to become the worst version of the biggest statistical threat to the safety of a woman – her partner.
These successful schools aren’t radical. They’ve simply ritualised the act of boys facing up, fessing up, fixing up and moving on. This stymies the message of manosphere figures like Andrew Tate, whose aggressive and domineering strategies don’t work with real women in the real world.
If schools can finally decide to intentionally teach boys how to be good men – compassionate, relational, courageous and respectful – then we have a real chance to shift the trajectory of a generation.
Adam Voigt is a former principal and founder and CEO of Real Schools.
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Adam Voigt is a former principal and founder and CEO of Real Schools.