In his latest book, James Bloodworth immerses himself in the so-called manosphere and finds a world that closely resembles, and frequently crosses over with, the far right. Not least in its attitudes to Jews
August 7, 2025 10:24That there is presently a crisis of masculinity in the Western nations is something almost everyone appears to agree on – and the only aspect of the matter that anyone appears to agree on. The nature of this crisis, its causes, its effects, its possible solutions: all of these questions feed a hubbub of furious argument.
Which makes James Bloodworth’s Lost Boys a useful intervention. Bloodworth has taken the same investigative approach he did to his previous book, the revealing Hired, for which – following the documentary method pioneered by George Orwell in Down and Out in Paris and London (1933) – he spent six months working in minimum-wage, zero-hours jobs. This time he has immersed himself in the so-called manosphere, that online-driven shadow world of reactionary maleness, centred upon conscious opposition to the supposed feminisation of society.
By his own account the author was very nearly drawn into this world as it was coalescing; a younger man, insecure and so desperate to find a girlfriend that in 2006 he paid £2,000 to attend “pickup artist” training. He eventually worked out for himself that treating women as fellow human beings rather than objects of conquest was the way forward. But this gives him some insight into the increasing ranks of those who have not.
The manosphere consists chiefly of such people, supporting a coterie of grifters, sharks and zealots who prey upon them, and upon the women these men so desperately, helplessly desire and despise. In this it adheres to the pattern of any other 21st-century ideologically driven cult – a kind of pyramid scheme in which the suckers below feed money and adulation to the exploiters above (the now notorious Andrew Tate is surely the best-known example), hoping to acquire some crumbs of their status.
At its most extreme, the manosphere produces mass killers, such as Elliot Rodger, who ought to be recognised as terrorists on behalf of misogyny, and whose violence against women reflects a horrifying commonplace across society as a whole.
Relating its history and structure via its three metaphorical “pills” – blue, red and black – Bloodworth shows how the manosphere closely resembles, and frequently crosses over with, the far right. Not least in its attitude to Jews, who – imagine our surprise – are often presumed to be orchestrating, via the instrument of feminism, men’s loneliness, enforced celibacy and loss of status. Bloodworth details leading manosphere influencers who have “Jews on the brain”. One posits that the “good guys” were not the winners of the Second World War, which he describes as an “engineered white genocide facilitated by international usurers”. Another calls Israel a “f***ing parasite”, defends the Nazis, and writes that “six million Jews did not die during WW2, they lied to you”.
The “lost boys” such influencers target can be radicalised so swiftly and thoroughly that they succumb to a kind of feral nihilism. It’s a condition summed up by Bloodworth’s apt choice of epigraph, from C.S. Lewis: “Only by being terrible do they avoid being comic.” There’s much to laugh at here; even more at which to despair – although we should consider a recent Ofcom survey that found many denizens of, or visitors to, the manosphere are able to engage with it critically.
There is also, Bloodworth stresses, a way out – having posited himself as an example at the start, he concludes with 18-year-old Alex, whose brief residence in the manosphere ended with his complete rejection of it; and perhaps even more significantly, its self-styled “president”, Anthony Johnson, who abandoned the role after starting a family. An old-fashioned truth seems to prevail here: there is no better remedy for imagined or misplaced grievances than getting a life.
Lost Boys: A Personal Journey through the Manosphere
by James Bloodworth
Atlantic