If you keep up with the intersection of politics and pop culture like I do, you can’t have missed hearing about a recent British drama that was the most-watched show on Netflix worldwide, and that became a surprising flashpoint of controversy. Podcasters, politicians and pundits from National Public Radio to the Daily Wire have weighed in on the show’s controversial messaging about the toxic nature of social media among young people.

The four-episode series “Adolescence” follows the Millers – a British, white, working-class family – whose lives are torn apart when their 13-year-old, socially-isolated son Jamie is arrested for the stabbing murder of a female classmate, purportedly after being influenced by online misogyny. Each episode, shot in one continuous take, shifts perspective from Jamie’s initial arrest and his family’s shock, to a police investigation uncovering his exposure to “toxic masculinity” online, to a psychological evaluation exposing his internalization of misogynistic hostility, and finally to the painful confusion of parents questioning their own responsibility for Jamie’s crime.

This is not a plot-driven whodunit. It’s deeply character-driven and explores the crime’s impact on Jamie’s family and friends, as well as the societal and psychological forces that drove the boy to commit such a shocking act. But the series’ 66 million views in its first two weeks and universal critical acclaim (earning a 99% score on the movie ratings site Rotten Tomatoes) are a testament to its riveting appeal and cultural impact.

The show’s co-creators, Jack Thorne and actor Stephen Graham – who gives an astonishing performance as the boy’s tortured father – have said they wanted “Adolescence” to be a show that “causes discussion and makes change.” Mission accomplished. British Prime Minister Keir Starmer himself revealed that he watched the show with his two teenagers and supports calls for “Adolescence” to be shown in schools and even in Parliament.

Part of the controversy surrounding the show stems from the fact that it deals with knife crime in the U.K., where offenses have surged over 80% the past decade. Critics have blasted the show for casting a white protagonist, whitewashing high-profile instances of U.K. knife crimes involving non-white migrants (the show’s creators have denied any “race-switching”). But the show’s core theme is the destructive impact of youth addiction to cell phones, social media “likes,” and toxic online influencers.

Central to “Adolescence” is the influence of the so-called “manosphere,” an online realm where mostly young men congregate to share strategies about relationships, fitness and finances. The worst excesses of the manosphere are epitomized by figures like Andrew Tate, a former kickboxer turned exploitative influencer who flaunts a flashy lifestyle of wealth and womanizing that is seductive for lonely teenage boys like Jamie. Tate is explicitly name-checked in the series when a detective references him as a sort of shorthand for the toxic ideologies Jamie encounters.

Former England football manager Gareth Southgate slammed “callous, manipulative” influencers like Tate in a recent televised lecture. “They willingly trick young men into believing that success is measured by money or dominance, that strength means never showing emotion, and that the world, including women, is against them,” Southgate explained.

But there is no evidence linking knife crimes to the influence of the manosphere, and “toxic masculinity” is a misleading, politicized label that is usually simply weaponized against boys and men. Nicole Russell, a USA TODAY columnist and mother of boys, argues that the series “demonizes boys” by suggesting their descent into violence is inevitable.

The valuable social issue captured by “Adolescence” is the omnipresence of cell phones in teenage life, which are portrayed as both lifeline and Pandora’s box. The series illustrates how this addiction combines with social media platforms to devastating effect, amplifying adolescent insecurities, with “likes” and online validation becoming a currency of self-worth. For Jamie, rejection by his eventual victim – who mocks him online with “incel” emojis – triggers a spiral of humiliation and rage. This cyberbullying, facilitated by the ubiquity of Instagram and other social media platforms, exacerbates his feelings of inadequacy, pushing him toward online spaces that offer toxic answers to his loneliness.

Jamie’s obsession with social media mirrors real-world concerns about screen addiction. Studies indicate that nearly 40% of UK children his age were found to be on their phones for four hours or more each day; 65% were on them for two hours or more. This is in addition to time on other screens such as television, computers, and tablets. American teens are reportedly even more deeply immersed in the virtual world. “Adolescence” depicts this addiction as a feedback loop: the more isolated Jamie felt, the more he sought affirmation online, which simply agitated his distress.

Experts on technology and child psychology have been warning about the various physiological, psychological, and emotional perils young people face from internet and screen addiction for many years. But apparently these Cassandras were simply shouting into the wind, because screen use and social media interaction have skyrocketed.

If we are going to rescue our young people from this self-destructive enslavement and prevent future generations from hearing that Siren call, we need to treat this as not just a societal concern but a civilizational emergency. The counter-movement must begin with parents themselves, who are the front-line defenders of their children in every respect; among other measures, they must set strict limits and exert vigilant control over cell phone access and screen time – starting with denying smartphones to children under a certain age (let’s say 16). Schools must prioritize children by minimizing computer use and banning cell phone use in classrooms. And social media platforms themselves must be willing – or if necessary, compelled by concerned, organized parents or even government intervention – to raise the age limits of users (currently, the vast majority have set a minimum age of 13 in the U.S.).

We cannot afford to let the shallow, illusory, damaging seductions of the virtual world be more meaningful and captivating to our young people than the real one.

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The republication of this article is made possible by The Fred & Rheta Skelton Center for Cultural Renewal. 

Image Credit: Netflix “Adolescence” Trailer/YouTube