I’m gonna roll with him for a couple days, a couple weeks, see how this pans out.” Barstool Sports owner Dave Portnoy’s ambivalence on Trump’s tariff plan feels broadly reflective of young men’s approach to politics. He’s an unlikely canary in the coal mine – but he’s not alone.
Social media influencers and public figures like Portnoy are part of a growing wave of long-time Trump supporters turning into sceptics – on the very platforms once credited with helping Trump win.
Inconsistent yet observant, young men have become a fixation across the political spectrum. The left are scrambling to find a role for progressive masculinity, and on the right, approval ratings among 18- to 29-year-olds have collapsed. So what’s going on?
Young men are a swinging voting bloc – and they’re already rebounding. The Young Men Research Initiative, which tracks their political sentiment, recently speculated that Trump’s honeymoon with young men could be “over”.
I’ve spent the last two years talking to young men across the US, and what I’ve consistently heard is their desperation for agency in a world that feels like it’s removing it. The more both sides strategise to control them, the more they will pull away: fewer young men report acting on influencers’ political content than on topics like fitness or self-improvement.
The “manosphere” feels like an easy answer. Netflix’s Adolescence – where a boy is seduced by this type of rhetoric and kills his female classmate – triggered what Richard V Reeves of the American Institute of Boys and Men called a “moral panic”. The manosphere influence is real, with six in 10 young men engaging with “masculinity influencers” regularly – but the story of disaffection is far more complex.
It’s not so much that they’re falling into extremism – it’s that they’re falling out of belief in the world around them. Perhaps they have been “red-pilled” by the manosphere, enlightened by societal truths about men’s place in the world – or perhaps it’s the negative content they’re being shown to chase engagement. Either way, it’s not the story we’ve told ourselves: those most engaged in this content are “more likely to be highly educated, employed, financially stable, and partnered”, according to the Movember Institute of Men’s Health.
Gen Z exhibits unusual cross-partisan alignment on seeing jobs and the economy as the most important issue. They share the same anxiety: that the economic system that worked for their parents won’t provide the same security or opportunity for them. Four in ten young Americans under 30 say they’re “barely getting by” financially. Labour conditions for recent graduates have deteriorated noticeably and only 56 per cent feel confident in their financial futures.
Covid only deepened this uncertainty. One man I interviewed described feeling two years behind in how he sees himself. Gen Z 1.0 – those in college during the pandemic – in particular feel they’ve lost the years that should’ve set them up for long-term financial and social success. It’s no wonder that less than half of young men feel connected to community.
As traditional life goals shift across the gender spectrum, it’s unclear where they should dedicate their energy. Only 48 per cent of young Americans say having children is important. For some, new ideals are taking hold: a hyper-masculine, “tech bro” masculinity. “Entrepreneur” is now the most admired profession among young men, ranking above athletes and musicians. And romantic insecurity is also growing: 10 per cent fewer men than women feel confident they’ll find a long-term partner. This may partly reflect women reporting that it’s harder to find someone who meets their expectations – an expectation gap men aren’t sure how to meet.
So what role is the US government supposed to play for them? Young men increasingly doubt it will act in their best interest – disillusioned, perhaps, by growing income inequality and social fragmentation. Elon Musk is a case in point: his approval rating among millennial men has dropped in line with his perceived connectedness to the establishment from 51.5 per cent to 34.7 per cent between January and April.
No longer expecting the government to deliver solutions, young men are looking elsewhere. Enter the manosphere, which urges them to “sigma male” their way to self-sufficiency. When faith in collective solutions erodes, adversarial thinking emerges – producing a generation increasingly fragmented by gender. Without belief in a system that can address it, they’re compelled to fend for themselves.
In reality, the values young men admire most are often rooted in responsibility to others. The co-founder of the Young Men Research Initiative, Aaron Smith, tells me that improving messaging around protecting and providing could offer a meaningful way to connect.
Young men aren’t driven by ideology, but by real fears that the future they want is unclear or untenable. Winning them back won’t take quick fixes – like gendered zero-sum thinking, better channels, or a return to manufacturing jobs. Instead, leaders must dedicate real policy space to co-create futures young men actually want – and really listen to them.
Alice Lassman is a New America economic writing fellow reporting on Gen Z, politics and masculinity. Previously an advisor at McKinsey and Company, the United Nations, and the OECD, she has specific expertise in economics and gender
