The moral panic over online misogyny is in full swing. Turn on the TV, go online or open up a newspaper and, soon enough, you’ll run into some story about the terrible dangers of the “manosphere” and its deadly allure to hordes of young men.

Over the weekend, coverage of the dreaded manosphere was hard to miss, with one Guardian piece inviting its readers to consider a plot line repurposed from other moral panics: “What happens when your partner falls into the ‘manosphere’?”. It opened with Samantha’s story about her relationship with a seemingly progressive Swedish man — emotionally open and in therapy — who, after their breakup, revealed his true beliefs, claiming “men are more sexual than women” and “men and women can’t be friends.”

She later learned he had been radicalised during the pandemic through a men’s mental health group influenced by Jordan Peterson, all without her noticing any red flags. The article warns that her story isn’t unique, and quotes polling data from the activist group Hope Not Hate, according to which 41% of young men — from a sample of 2,000 people across the UK aged 16 to 24 — “support Andrew Tate”.

On the same day as the Guardian piece, The Telegraph ran a story with the headline: “Andrew Tate ‘phenomena’ fuelling misogyny in schools, say teachers.” Among several unnamed teachers quoted, one recalled with horror how a group of boys opted to write an essay for their English class on why Tate is the “GOAT” (Greatest of All Time). Others relayed that some boys have taken to barking at female teachers or ignoring them altogether. Then, on Sunday, The Times published a story on how some incels could benefit from the help of dating coaches, a day after running a piece promoting young male influencers who could serve as an “antidote” to Tate.

With all this frenzied coverage, you could be forgiven for thinking that online misogyny is everywhere and that its embrace is so seductive that even the most liberal-minded men can be ensnared by it. But the truth is rather more complicated, and this is for at least two reasons. First, support for Tate may not be as widespread as Hope Not Hate suggests. According to a 2023 YouGov poll, only 12% of British men view him positively, although this rises to 27% among 18 to 29-year-old men. In another YouGov survey, it was found that one in six 6-15-year-old boys (17%) have a positive opinion of Tate, including 23% of 13-15-year-olds.

Second, even when young boys do seemingly express support for Tate, it is eminently possible that they are engaging in a form of play that is intended to mock or provoke those in authority. A few years ago, my then 15-year-old nephew was quite taken with Tate, not because he agreed with him or took him seriously, but because it annoyed his parents.

Of course, violent misogyny is no laughing matter, and women are abused every day by despotic and weak men. But it’s still necessary to call out the frenzied alarmism of the prevailing discourse on online misogyny, where the manosphere is accorded far more causal power and reach than it actually possesses, and where mounting paranoia over young boys is clearly detrimental to their development and self-esteem.

It’s also necessary to point out the twisted incentives driving the current moral panic about online misogyny. No newspaper or website is going to publish a piece titled, “Male support for Andrew Tate is exaggerated, experts say” or “The boys are OK.” Instead, all the incentives are stacked up the other way: “My friend was radicalised by online misogyny. It really is that easy.” (That’s a real one.)

A moral panic rewards exaggeration, stokes paranoia, and stigmatises those on the receiving end. If we want to support boys rather than scapegoat them, we need less righteous indignation, more honesty, and a lot more trust in the quiet male majority who are muddling along and minding their own business.

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