Masculinity Lost and Found: Beyond Tate and the Manosphere

Conversations about masculinity have taken center stage of the online Christian dialogue, in part due to the imposing figure of influencer Andrew Tate. As a result, many Christians have been hearing the term “Manosphere” for the first time. But they’ve only been able to glean what the Manosphere is through context and sensationalized reports like those in the New York Times and MSNBC.

I discovered the Manosphere in 2018 and became a contributor to that space in 2020 before I entered the world of Reformed theology in 2022, which is how most know me today. I thought it might be helpful to offer my perspective on the Manosphere after entering and unexpectedly exiting that space not too long ago. 

Because the rise and fall of the Manosphere not only helps explain Andrew Tate, but it also has lessons for young Christian men, fathers, pastors, and aspiring content creators today.

A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE MANOSPHERE

The Manosphere was a grassroots online phenomenon that began in the early 2000’s. It had no central “hub” or website that all men belonged to. It was decentralized movement that began in online forums and message boards before expanding onto social networks like YouTube and Twitter as those platforms ramped up.

The movement was populated with influencers who approached the complex subject of “masculinity” from different angles. This began with perennially popular topics like wealth creation, physical fitness, and sex. But with the development of the concept of a “personal brand,” the topics of discussion became secondary to the personalities discussing them. 

Thus, as the Manosphere matured it grew into a collection of influencers who embodied different archetypes, or characters, of masculinity. The influencer would then approach masculine topics through their own unique lens. 

The archetypes ranged from the pagan barbarian to the urban playboy, the rugged huntsman to the powerlifting gym bro, the brash politician to the fitness model, and beyond. Each influencer was "designed,” so-to-speak, to appeal to a different kind of man.  

For example, maybe you’re not into hunting because you’re single, live in the city, and work in tech. The suave urban seducer will likely resonate with you. Perhaps you’re married with kids in a suburban town, so the former Special Forces operator-turned jiu-jitsu dad will be your guy.

Every fan of the Manosphere had a collection of influencers he saw himself reflected in, a bit like G.I. Joe dolls. No one listened to them all or had the time to do so. But once a year, the influencers would gather at various small conferences to stand shoulder-to-shoulder and model different versions of masculinity. I gave talks, hosted panels, and conducted interviews at one such conference, the now defunct 21Convention, in 2021, which is where I first met Clear Truth co-founder Michael Foster.

The Manosphere imploded for many reasons. One major cause was the lack of moral virtue in its influencers. The men were substance addicts, sexual degenerates, and often closeted homosexuals. These sins caught up with many of them as the conversation about masculinity shifted from promiscuity to marriage and family after 2020.

The Manosphere also ran into the same problem that every masculine endeavor encounters, competition. Big men are often burdened with bigger egos. Social media conflicts frequently exploded into turf wars, because in the online ecosystem controversy drives attention, engagement, and income. 

For these reasons and more the Manosphere fractured into tribalism, which became its undoing. Because in Summer 2022, Andrew Tate arrived on the stage. 

THE APEX PREDATOR ARRIVES

Tate had been a side character in the Manosphere. He played the role of the audacious playboy who would occasionally go on podcasts to flash his wealth, flash his pecs, and occasionally show flashes of insight. 

In 2022, Tate decided he wanted to be the main character. As the story goes, he enlisted an army of men in his War Room online group to flood the surging social media network TikTok with clips of him at his most outrageous. 

The strategy worked. Tate caught a wave, and in summer 2022 became the most searched name on the Internet, more than Donald Trump. 

Tate posed a problem for the Manosphere, because he was the man who had done all the things that other men had only talked about. The Manosphere talked about money, and Andrew Tate was a multimillionaire. He made his fortune through “camgirls”—or digital striptease—but no one cared; his cash would still spend. 

The Manosphere also spoke about physical fitness. Tate was not only admirably fit, but also a competitive mixed-martial arts fighter who had won actual matches. Finally, the Manosphere preached about women and casual sex. For better or worse, Andrew Tate seemed to have no difficulty with either. 

So, while the Manosphere and its cast of characters promoted a lifestyle of money, muscles, and girls, Andrew Tate had all three to excess. At the time I called him, “the apex predator of the Manosphere.” 

MANOSPHERE’S END

Faced with a combination of raging male egos, tribalism, and the epochal arrival of a digital Genghis Khan, the Manosphere couldn’t survive. Millions were siphoned into Tate's pockets as his profile exploded. Forbes reported in August 2023 that the War Room alone was generating $5 million per month for Andrew and Tristan Tate. 

Under the resulting financial stresses of competing with a global media sensation, many smaller influencers’ sins came to the fore. The Manosphere then imploded and collapsed. Today, it stumbles through X as zombified version of what it once was.

The thing to note is that Andrew Tate did not create the demand for himself. He was only the most ruthless at capitalizing on an established need. Because sometime between the end of World War 2 and the modern era, the West forgot what it means to be a man. The Manosphere began in the 2000’s as men’s attempt to answer that question, using the Internet to collaborate and reclaim what was lost. 

This also explains the popularity of Dr. Jordan Peterson. I believe the massive success of the frog-voiced Canadian professor in 2017 is best understood as young men (and women) witnessing an image of the wise, caring, and accomplished father they never had.

So, when it came to the demand for knowledge about masculinity, the Manosphere revealed it. Jordan Peterson validated it. Andrew Tate exploited it.

IF MEN DON’T TEACH, BOYS DON’T KNOW.

Many Christian husbands, fathers, and pastors today are rightfully concerned about the ascendance of Tate and what he means. Some say he embodies things that modern men lack, like confidence and boldness. Others are trying to emulate aspects of what Tate does in expressing controversial political opinions. Still others are trying desperately to drag men back from the precipice of his unrighteousness.

I think these are the wrong questions. 

Because Tate—like the Manosphere and Jordan Peterson before him—is not the problem. Rather, they are all symptomatic of a deep cultural illness: the American unwillingness to acknowledge the biblical definition of what a man is and therefore what a woman is, as well. 

In fact, these two cannot be defined independent from each other. We are made for each other and made for family. This requires a self-sacrificial posture that the feminist-informed children and grandchildren of the Me Generation, aka the Baby Boomers, were never taught and have yet to learn. 

The bad news is, Tate also reveals a trap that many Christian content creators have fallen into: viewing men’s multi-generational alienation as an economic opportunity rather than a spiritual ailment. 

Economic opportunity means competition. It means I have to get the dollar before you do, which means my version of masculinity must be “better” than yours. It means encouraging men to be made over in the image of other men, rather than the image of their savior, Jesus Christ.

This is the error the Manosphere fell into, to its doom.

ILLNESS AND PRESCRIPTION

The good news is, once we identify the illness, we find the prescription. And the only valid prescription for any spiritual ill is the Word of God. Therefore, the solution to the challenge of Andrew Tate is not based on output of digital content: it is pastoral and relational. 

The Word of God must be lovingly applied to men’s spiritual wounds of father hunger, which metastasizes into father hatred today. And just like raising a son in real life, there is no shortcut to this process. 

But if you as a man have the heart to pour into men, to minister to them so that they embody gratitude for their salvation, a self-sacrificial posture of responsibility, and a commitment to a lifetime of sanctification, then you will succeed.

It’s might not be profitable. It might not be sexy. But it is godly. I believe it’s what men need today and always have.

The clock is ticking, too. The Trump administration is reportedly pressuring Romania to allow the Tate brothers to travel back to the US, while they await trial on charges of human trafficking, sexual misconduct, money laundering, and more.

When the Apex Predator of the Manosphere returns to the U.S., what will he find? The men of the church eagerly awaiting his next conquest? Or a well-equipped army clad in the Armor of God, armed with the Sword of the Spirit, and led by the Alpha and Omega of history? 

The stage is being set for a showdown over men’s hearts. Will they be won for worldliness or Christ?

We shall see.