The name Andrew Tate stirs strong emotions. To some, he’s a hero, a truth-teller in a world where men have gone soft, a defender of manhood. To others, he’s a villain, a dangerous voice spewing misogyny and violence often called the “king of toxic masculinity.”
I took a deep dive into his world recently, listening to hours of interviews, clips, and conversations. I was skeptical but curious and wanted to understand why one in three young men say they resonate with the message of someone who’s facing rape and human trafficking charges in Britain.
Sadly, it didn’t take long for me to see the appeal. Tate is, in many ways, a poet, speaking with rhythm, repetition, and conviction. He’s also an expert at holding an audience captive. And there is no denying his giftedness as a public speaker.
By using proven psychological techniques, he keeps listeners firmly in his grip. Firstly, there is the background music, which is like that of a movie trailer, designed to heighten anticipation. By repeatedly referring to his wealth and status, he positions himself as successful and exploits the authority principle or people’s tendency to comply with those in positions of authority.
Then there is the illusory truth effect. By repeating bold, easy-to-understand statements over and over, people tend to believe that they are true even if they are not. Tate doesn’t just say things that resonate, he packages them in a way that feels addictive. It’s like watching a masterclass in psychological manipulation.
So, what does he say?
He tells young men to be disciplined and never give up on their goals, which is exactly what they need to hear. I tell my son this all the time. And in my two decades in youth work, I’ve seen many young men dawdling without a sense of purpose, lost like a ship without a rudder. It’s hard to bear. So when Tate says, “Wake up early. Hit the gym. Get your life together,” I see the value of such advice.
But he pushes this to the extreme. He says rest is for the lazy, vulnerability for the weak, and your worth is measured by status and domination. That is not healthy manhood. It’s an extreme version of masculinity that looks strong on the surface but is fragile and broken at the core and will eventually collapse under the weight of real life. We want our boys to be strong but not at the cost of their mental health, relationships or humanity.
He is all about the brotherhood. And at a time where at least 15% of men say they have no close friendships, Tate’s message to, “Build your tribe. Embrace resilience,” is vital. Whether it’s called a friendship recession or the male loneliness epidemic, social isolation is detrimental to the health and well-being of men and boys. We’re on the same page here.
But yet again, he warps this truth. His version of brotherhood is built on conquest, competition and even exclusion. If what brings you together is a shared mockery of vulnerability, or worse, a disdain of women, then your so-called brotherhood has deformed into a toxic fraternity.
He criticizes the system for leaving men and boys behind. In my work, I hear about this all the time. Whether it’s in the school system, at work or in conversations about gender — men and boys express that they feel invisible, unheard and, even worse, demonized. Tate holds back no punches on this issue and the young men listening to him may be relieved that someone is brave enough to cut through the political correctness and say it out loud.
But Tate exploits these grievances and turns it into resentment. Instead of proposing solutions that work for everyone, he fuels hate and weaponizes the pain that young men feel. He pits men against women in a winner-take-all battle. This vicious cycle hurts both men and women, leading to further isolation and rage.
Tate considers women as inherently less capable and valuable primarily for their looks and obedience. He says that “women belong to the man,” and describes relationships in terms of control and ownership. His view of women is harmful and can dangerously shape how boys think about relationships, respect and consent. Research from the University of Melbourne confirms that young men who see women as objects are more likely to be violent towards their partners.
As vile as some of Tate’s views are, I’m glad I took the plunge into the manosphere and formed my own opinion. What I found there is far more complex than a simple binary of right or wrong. Andrew Tate is a paradox: a man who diagnoses real problems facing boys and men but prescribes poison as the cure.
To condemn him without nuance is to risk alienating those who see themselves in his message, many of whom are searching for guidance, belonging, or affirmation. Our response to the manosphere should not be cancellation, but surgical intervention: careful, thoughtful engagement that can challenge harmful ideas without shutting down the young people who are drawn to them. Meeting them where they are, online, in classrooms, even at unconventional spaces, is where real change will begin.
We may never fully outmaneuver Tate’s online influence, but we don’t need to. What we can do is far more powerful. We have everything we need to build healthy connections with our boys. Through our example and quality time, we can teach them how to be strong and kind, how to lead without dominating, how to ask for help without shame, and how to love without fear.
This is the kind of manhood worth following.