Netflix’s Adolescence and the Conversation We Need

Earlier this month Netflix released Adolescence. The drama tells the story of a 13-year-old boy accused of murdering a female classmate after being exposed to misogynistic material online. The show raises important questions that parents should be asking about their kids’ social media diet, whether and how to limit our children’s exposure to influences that conflict with our family values, and the role models that are (and are not) available to boys and young men. Much of the discourse prompted by the series has focused on “toxic masculinity.” The phrase is unhelpful because of its overuse, with some wielding it to castigate too broad a range of behaviors, some of which are actually toxic and some of which are not.

At the same time, it must be acknowledged that there are men in the world who engage in unhealthy behaviors and peddle damaging ideas about masculinity. On one hand, influencers like Andrew Tate tell their many followers that being a successful man means becoming materially wealthy, driving sports cars, and fathering as many children with as many different women as possible. Then there are the incels (involuntary celibates), a dejected and angry online community whose members blame their problems (especially their inability to find romantic partners) on women. “If I am undesirable,” they reason, “it must be because there is something wrong with every woman I have ever encountered.” In other words, there is an army of flashy influencers and disgruntled misfits online who want to teach our boys the opposite of accountability, self-discipline, and virtue. But too often, when a show like Adolescence gets us talking about these issues, there is a fundamental problem with how we approach the conversation. 

The problem is that all we seem capable of doing is talking about the problem. What about the solution? 

If we agree that our sons are receiving negative messaging about masculinity then it is incumbent upon fathers, rabbis, and communities to articulate a compelling and positive vision of masculinity. If we shy away from doing so – either for fear that articulating such a vision would be “too gendered” or out of misplaced anxiety about acknowledging differences between men and women – then we surrender our boys and young men to the ministries of false prophets. That is because berating young men for everything that is supposedly wrong with them is a recipe for failure if it is not combined with guiding them toward positive and holy outlets for their masculinity. In Psalm 34 King David instructs us, “Turn from evil and do good.” Reflecting on this verse, the Baal Shem Tov (the 18th century spiritual master and founder of Chasidut) articulated an important principle. He teaches that when we turn away from something negative we must actively pursue and establish something good to take its place (Keter Shem Tov). Rather than reading King David’s admonition to shun evil and pursue the good as two separate clauses or a poetic repetition of the same idea, the Baal Shem Tov tells us that in order to turn away from evil we must pursue the good. One depends on the other. We can only repair what is broken by replacing darkness with light, negativity with positivity, or something destructive with something productive. 

Our mesorah (Jewish tradition) can offer boys and young men a compelling and aspirational vision of masculinity. The Jewish approach to masculinity constitutes a serious counterweight to the destructive models some young men are currently looking to because it does more than tell us what not to do. Torah makes demands, offers spiritual challenges, and provides positive replacements for the destructive advice and ideas proliferating online. The mesorah does all this while still upholding men and masculinity as coherent categories that are integral to our identities as human beings. With the tradition as our blueprint, we could help boys grow into strong, self-controlled, intellectually driven, emotionally grounded, and deeply responsible family men. While this is not the place for an expansive study of Jewish masculinity, we can start to sketch an outline of the kind of men the Torah challenges us to become and guide our sons toward becoming. 

First and foremost, the tradition does not frame masculinity as projecting power outwards. Rather, power is meant to be turned inwards and channeled into taking responsibility for others. That might sound lofty, but it’s actually rooted in the duties we have toward our families and the daily struggle to live up to our potential. The Talmud lays out what a man is expected to do: teach his son Torah, teach him a trade, marry him off, and – according to one view – teach him how to swim (Kiddushin 29a). These aren’t abstract ideals; they’re deeply practical. A Jewish man is called not only to study but to provide, to parent, and to protect. Masculinity here is framed not as power over others, but as responsibility for others. This is the frame in which I understand the teaching of Hillel: “In a place where there are no men, strive to be a man” (Pirkei Avot 2:5). Commentators note that the injunction to be a man is related to courage, initiative, and moral clarity. It is not about bravado or dominating others, but finding the strength to stand for moral clarity even when it might be risky or dangerous. 

But responsibility can easily tip into ego or dominance if it’s not balanced by humility and introspection. In Pirkei Avot 4:1, the sage Ben Zoma teaches: “Who is mighty? He who conquers his evil inclination, as it is stated in Scripture: ‘He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that rules his spirit than he that takes a city’” (Proverbs 16:32). Strength, in other words, is expressed as self-control, which is ultimately a necessary prerequisite to fulfill one’s duties to God and to other people. In a famous letter authored by Ramban, the medieval Sefardi leader and Torah scholar advises his son, “Accustom yourself to speak gently to all people at all times… humble your heart and thereby you will achieve inner peace.” It’s a powerful image of strength that has little to do with being the loudest or flashiest person in the room.

And yet, there’s also space in Jewish masculinity for competition. This takes place most prominently in the Beit Midrash (the study hall), the arena for what the Talmud calls the milchemet shel Torah: the war of Torah study. Traditional Jewish learning is framed as intellectual combat, where minds sharpen minds and competition – and even a bit of ego (channeled correctly) – can drive excellence. Rabbi Elazar goes so far as to quip that scholars “stab each other in learning” (Taanit 7a). This clash of ideas takes place in order to reveal God’s truth for the benefit of all. In this context, a major component of Jewish masculinity could be thought of as intense cooperative competition with the shared goal of making God and God’s word more manifest in the world. 

These rough reflections barely capture a fraction of a fraction of the Torah’s wisdom for boys and young men. I also acknowledge that there are seventy faces of Torah, meaning that each of the sources I cited above can be interpreted in different ways just as others could bring additional sources that offer different perspectives from the sources that I included. It is also obviously the case that women have their own strength, and there is variability among, and overlap between, men and women – another level of nuance that a longer exploration of this topic would have to address. In other words, there is much more that could be said and needs to be said. For the time being, I pray that when we address the challenges facing young men we remember the Baal Shem Tov’s teaching that in order to turn from evil we must do good. As the public discussion about Netflix’s Adolescence continues, pundits and online warriors will continue to talk about toxic masculinity and a toxic social media ecosystem. Jews – especially Jewish fathers – cannot get stuck in that place. We need to offer something better so that our sons can do good.