The country is buzzing about the impact of Adolescence on society’s collective conscience. From water coolers to Westminster, it seems like there’s no corner where people aren’t discussing their thoughts on Stephen Graham’s masterpiece.
Adolescence is a piece of art, and like all great art, it is open to debate. I’ve even heard Stephen Graham say that they weren’t pointing the finger at one specific issue but rather highlighting a broader problem within society.
One reaction I saw today was that schools are planning to roll out anti-misogyny lectures. In my view, this completely misses the mark regarding what the programme was trying to showcase.
My interpretation is that this young man felt small because of the constant messaging he absorbed from society and online. In his insecurity, he found solace in figures like the Tate brothers, whose rhetoric radicalised his behaviour.
Doubling down on telling young men what is wrong with them will only push more of them towards these troubling influencers. Yes, misogyny is a problem in our society. Yes, women suffer violence at the hands of men, and the courts continue to fail in properly punishing these crimes. These are facts, and we should all be working towards change. There are clear examples of bad behaviour that we can—and should—point to.
But in contrast, where are the examples of excellence? Who are the men in our society that we should be trying to emulate? Who should we be telling men to aspire to? Instead of constantly highlighting what is wrong, what examples do we have to show them what is right?
When I look at my comedy heroes, I know they were flawed. Robin Williams became known for his kind nature and incredible talent, yet he died by suicide after a life plagued by mental health struggles and substance abuse. George Carlin was an astute observational comedian who was a huge advocate of weed, but he was painted as anti-establishment to discredit his appeal to the masses.
Will Smith was one of my greatest heroes growing up, but his infamous slap at the Oscars didn’t just show bad behaviour—it knocked him off his own pedestal. His highly publicised marriage struggles have only made him a more complicated figure to look to for inspiration.
In the ’90s, Bob Geldof built up Band Aid, but the media painted him as boring and his goals as futile. Bono went to world leaders to seek their help in fighting poverty, only for the media to attack him as a hypocrite for being wealthy.
More recently, I look at someone like John Cena—an incredibly successful yet humble man who has granted 650 wishes through the Make-A-Wish Foundation (more than anyone else in history). Despite this, some still reduce him to a “dumb roided wrestler.”
Then there’s Timothée Chalamet, a young actor who gave an inspiring speech about his pursuit of excellence in his craft, only to be mocked for being self-centred. His lean physique also became a talking point, with some questioning whether he was “masculine enough.”
When you type “male role models” into Google, the first name that comes up is Dwayne Johnson—a very successful man, but one who refuses to acknowledge his use of performance-enhancing drugs, contributing to the growing issue of body dysmorphia among men. He has also faced rumours of poor behaviour on set.
My point is that society has become so obsessed with pointing out the flaws in men, that we’re forgetting to celebrate the good. Target fixation is the psychological phenomenon where people tend to steer towards whatever is in their line of sight. If we are constantly highlighting what is bad, then men will continue to gravitate towards those behaviours. This is one of the reasons the media tries not to report on suicides—because it has been shown to lead to contagion.
So, what are we doing to showcase positive examples? Who are the people we should all strive to be more like? Who sets the standard we should aspire to?
Looking further down the list on Google, there are some genuinely good figures: LeBron James, Roger Federer, Chris Evans, Tom Hanks, Denzel Washington, and Trevor Noah. But then it gets to Elon Musk—a man who, as the world’s richest person, now appears to be trying to influence elections in America.
I don’t have answers, only more questions—which, I suppose, is the point of great art like Adolescence. But I wish I knew who I was supposed to turn to for those answers.