ArticleDelay. Deny. Depose.
The first two words, carved into the bullets with which Luigi Mangione is alleged to have killed CEO Brian Thompson, apparently reference the unscrupulous tactics of health insurers unwilling to pay out patient claims. “Depose”, however, seems a one-word manifesto, a rallying cry to decisive action for anyone alienated by powerful people or institutions.
I am increasingly concerned that disaffected young men might be tempted to answer that call.
ASIO and the Federal Police recently warned of the risks of teen radicalisation, with 20% of their current case load involving younger people. In April, a 16-year-old boy stabbed Bishop Mar Mari Emmanuel at Christ the Good Shepherd Church in Wakeley. White power groups are a rising concern, here and elsewhere and, in the last few years, incel terrorism has introduced a chilling motive for mass murder: alienated men starved of human connection. (This week’s tragic Wisconsin school shooting by a 15-year-old girl is a sad reminder that disaffection leading to violence isn’t always about boys, but the data is clear. It almost always is.)
What are the enabling conditions of such a situation? A perfect storm of mental ill-health, social isolation, and being extremely online can make young men vulnerable to negative influences on gaming sites and messaging platforms. And someone like Andrew Tate can surely only have the following he does because so many young men are feeling unsure of themselves in the real world.
Along with other works in a similar area, my own book The End of Men? looks at girls increasingly outpacing boys in academic achievement, university course completion, and engagement with the work force. Areas of expected future job growth might also favour women. Women tend to be more articulate and to have more friends. The strides women have made in past decades are incredible, and there’s still much to be done to make gender equality a reality.
It should equally concern us, though, that young men are struggling to adjust. Some feel adrift, as though they have less of a stake in the future, and that there’s something “toxic” about masculinity in and of itself. No one wants their young sons to inherit a declining sense of agency and purpose. Feeling useless and no longer relevant can un-man men in ways few other things will.
Then there’s what a (female) teacher told me, recently, that I can’t stop thinking about, given the horrific stories of domestic violence this year – that “if men feel as though their physical strength is all they have left, they’ll use it”.
Obviously, it is unacceptable—but sadly not surprising—that in a world where there are few positive role models for men, or obviously celebrated ways to be a man today, male aimlessness can manifest as a violent acting out on the world.
At the same time—and this might be as astonishing as any of the recent reports about young men—there have been recent findings that Gen Z men are turning up at church, both here and abroad, in greater numbers. More men in the pews is a surprising development to say the least: the old joke goes that churches are women’s clubs with male CEOs. What are they doing there? They say they’re looking for meaning, community, and self-transcendence, or a story that puts them in the service of a higher cause.
In a way, this makes sense. To counter the negative, disconnecting effects of life online, social psychologist Jonathan Haidt recommended a greater emphasis on embodied, in-person encounters in real time, taking place “within communities that have a high bar for entry and exit,” he writes in The Anxious Generation, “so people are strongly motivated to invest in relationships and repair rifts when they happen”.
Haidt, a secular Jew, is clear about the advantages faith communities have here. The face-to-face factor is critical, as is feeling part of a greater community, and having strong, shared experiences of “collective effervescence” where you feel part of something much bigger than yourself.
But the irony is that many of the characteristics that might draw a young man to organised religion— community, belonging and a higher cause—are shared by groups that might radicalise him.
It matters what young men believe and how they are formed, for belief shapes behaviour. If we want well-adjusted young men, the stakes are high.
Canadian psychologist Jordan Peterson splits opinions, but he’s known for saying that “the purpose of life is finding the largest burden that you can bear, and bearing it”, for this will make you strong. Young men hang on his words, feeling a call of duty. But Peterson’s vision seems incomplete.
What’s missing is what I hope the young men turning up at church are finding: a radical – not radicalised – take on what it means to be a man in the person of Jesus. The Christmas story may centre on Jesus’ birth, but it makes stunning claims about the nature of true power and agency. According to Christian belief, an all-powerful God acts in humility by allowing himself to be born as a vulnerable child. This is a sacrificial act of weakness – not violence – as a means of overturning evil. Rather than a forceful assertion of claims upon the world, we see instead a divestment of power, and an emptying out of any advantages – all for the good of others before the self.
A baby in a manger, in other words, is a wholly unexpected power move, and a mystery that young men keen to leave their mark could dwell on: that to hold power lightly looks like giving it away to others.
Simon Smart is Executive Director of the Centre for Public Christianity and the author of The End of Men?.
Image: Surveillance camera in a subway, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
