{"id":1341,"date":"2025-04-02T06:03:55","date_gmt":"2025-04-02T06:03:55","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blog.uantwerpen.be\/iob\/?p=1341"},"modified":"2025-04-02T06:06:59","modified_gmt":"2025-04-02T06:06:59","slug":"what-teenage-boys-and-foreign-aid-have-in-common","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blog.uantwerpen.be\/iob\/what-teenage-boys-and-foreign-aid-have-in-common\/","title":{"rendered":"What teenage boys and foreign aid have in common: belonging, breakdown, and the rise of (authoritarian) populism"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

From the toxic forums of the manosphere to the dismantling of foreign aid institutions, something deeper is unravelling: our capacity to care. What the Netflix series \u201cAdolescence\u201d shows us\u2014and what policy must urgently address, is how the rise of hyper-individualism and resentment\u2014amplified in spaces like the manosphere\u2014undermines global solidarity. When care erodes, so does the collective will behind development cooperation.<\/strong><\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Why is a teen drama like \u201cAdolescence\u201d<\/em> making politicians nervous?<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The hit Netflix series Adolescence<\/em> has sparked more than TV chatter. Following the story of 13-year-old Jamie Miller\u2014arrested for the brutal killing of a classmate\u2014the show dives into the toxic digital spaces where angry, isolated boys find identity and belonging. These aren’t fringe forums. They\u2019re part of a vast and growing network known as the manosphere: a swirling ecosystem of incels, men\u2019s rights activists, and self-proclaimed alpha males who thrive on misogyny, anti-feminism, and conspiracy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As the showrunner told The Guardian<\/a> (2025) \u201cIf there\u2019s a problem with boys\u2019 behaviour, it\u2019s because of us\u2014it\u2019s about what we\u2019re not giving them\u201d. That line hits hard. Because the manosphere doesn\u2019t just grow out of ideology\u2014it grows out of emotional absence: loneliness, alienation, lack of purpose. In an era where traditional sources of belonging\u2014family, school, community\u2014are fraying, these boys find connection online. But the cost is high, with far stretching consequences for (foreign) policies and society at large.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From online grievance to political weapon<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The emotional architecture of the manosphere\u2014grievance, distrust, and hunger for belonging\u2014is strikingly similar to the emotional infrastructure of modern right-wing populism.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Movements like MAGA and Trumpism don’t just speak in slogans\u2014they speak in feeling: “We are abandoned,” “They are out to get us,” “Only strength can save us.” These narratives offer connection\u2014but through exclusion. Like the manosphere, they blame feminists, globalists and progressive institutions for personal and national decline.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The manosphere radicalizes boys. Populism radicalizes democracies. And both ride the same emotional wave.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The elite logic of anti-elitism<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The architects of this so-called \u201crevolt\u201d are often elites themselves. Trump is a billionaire. Steve Bannon was a Goldman Sachs banker. Elon Musk, who amplifies manosphere-adjacent content on X (formerly Twitter), is one of the richest men in history.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Populism doesn\u2019t reject elites\u2014it replaces one elite with another. It targets technocrats, experts, aid workers, feminists\u2014while exalting nationalist, patriarchal strongmen. It\u2019s not a movement against power, but a rebranding of power<\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Foreign aid as a casualty of the culture war<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

This brings us to an unexpected victim: development cooperation. Once grounded in ideals of solidarity and shared humanity, foreign aid is now reframed as some kind of \u201cglobalist scam\u201d, because it\u2019s a wasteful business, a misallocation of taxpayers\u2019 money<\/a> and exporting wokeness abroad<\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the U.S., Trump\u2019s administration slashed USAID\u2019s budget and is now dismantling it entirely. In the UK, the Department for International Development was merged with the Foreign Office. In Germany, the Netherlands and Belgium, far-right parties openly call for ending aid altogether<\/a> and budgets are in steep decline.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The logic mirrors manosphere discourse: if recipients are undeserving, then support is weakness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Aid cuts are about more than budgets<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

These trends aren\u2019t just about money. They\u2019re about morality\u2014about who deserves care. Empirical research shows that as populist parties gain power, aid budgets shrink<\/a> . But deeper than that, we\u2019re seeing a collapse of moral imagination: the ability to feel connected to people we don\u2019t know, across borders or identities.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The same emotional fracture that drives boys into toxic forums is driving nations into selfishness. Aid dies not just from austerity\u2014but from emotional withdrawal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What would a fully populist world look like?<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

If this trajectory continues, we edge toward a world where care is conditional and empathy is rare. A world where rights are only for the “right kind” of citizen, truth is replaced by emotional tribalism, strongmen dominate while institutions hollow out, and foreigners, feminists, and dissidents are framed as threats.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This isn\u2019t just a political project. It\u2019s an emotional one\u2014one that rewards domination and punishes vulnerability.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rebuilding solidarity: where do we begin?<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

We don\u2019t fix this with more fact-checking. We fix it by rebuilding relationships\u2014by investing in cultural narratives, youth spaces, and policies that foster belonging without scapegoats.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Here\u2019s what that might look like:<\/p>\n\n\n\n