Why we need a more positive conversation with young men about violence

A more positive conversation with and about young men is not about minimising harm or protecting male feelings. It is about effectiveness. If the goal is to reduce violence, challenge abusive norms, and create cultures where men intervene early when something is going wrong, then young men need to be engaged as part of the solution, not treated as a problem category to be managed.

When violence against women and girls is discussed, the conversation can quickly become polarised. Some men hear it as an accusation. Some organisations become nervous about saying the wrong thing. Some campaigns focus so heavily on the worst behaviours that they leave young men feeling either defensive, shamed, or quietly disconnected from the issue.  That is a problem.  Not because the issue should be softened. Violence, abuse, harassment and coercion need to be named plainly. But if we want prevention rather than just condemnation, then we need to think seriously about how we speak with young men, not only what we say to them.

A more positive conversation with and about young men is not about minimising harm or protecting male feelings. It is about effectiveness. If the goal is to reduce violence, challenge abusive norms, and create cultures where men intervene early when something is going wrong, then young men need to be engaged as part of the solution, not treated as a problem category to be managed.

The trap of a purely negative conversation

Much public discussion about men and violence starts from a true premise: most sexual violence is perpetrated by men, and too many harmful attitudes are normalised in male peer cultures. But the way that truth is communicated matters.  If the message young men hear is simply, “men are the danger,” several unhelpful things can happen.

First, decent young men distance themselves from the problem. They hear “abuser” and think of someone monstrous, predatory, obviously different from themselves and their mates. The conversation becomes about those men over there, not about the everyday comments, pressures, silences and loyalties that can create the conditions in which harm grows.

Second, shame can trigger defensiveness rather than reflection. If a young man feels he is being placed in the dock before he has even spoken, he is less likely to stay open to challenge, less likely to admit uncertainty, and less likely to ask honest questions about consent, power, status, group pressure and masculinity.  He’s also less likely to self-inspect any past behaviours or past silence.

Third, a purely negative frame misses a crucial truth: most young men do not want their friends to harass, coerce or abuse women. Most do not want to be complicit in harm. Many are uneasy about sexist “banter”, predatory behaviour or pressure tactics, but do not know how to challenge them without social cost.

That gap between private values and public behaviour is exactly where prevention work should focus.

Alan Berkowitz and the power of social norms

Alan Berkowitz’s work is useful here because it shifts attention from “bad men” to misperceived norms.

The social norms approach starts with a simple but powerful insight: people often behave not according to what they personally believe, but according to what they think other people believe and do. Young men can overestimate how much their peers approve of sexist jokes, coercive persistence, sexual bragging, harassment, heavy drinking linked to sexual opportunity, or dismissive attitudes towards women.  They may also underestimate how many other men feel uncomfortable with that behaviour and would support someone who challenged it.  

That matters because behaviour is deeply shaped by belonging. If I think “everyone laughs at this”, “everyone talks like this”, “everyone pushes the line on a night out”, then it becomes harder to object. Silence starts to look like the normal response. Looking away starts to feel socially intelligent. Harmful behaviour can become inflated by a false sense of peer approval.

Berkowitz argues that prevention should not only condemn unhealthy norms; it should make healthy norms more visible. A balance is needed and the task is to expose the gap between the loud minority and the quiet majority. In other words: to help young men see that respect, care, restraint and intervention are not marginal behaviours but common ones, even if they are often less publicly performed.  

This is why a more positive conversation matters. If we tell young men, credibly and repeatedly, that most men do not support coercion, most men do care about consent, most men do not want their friends’ humiliating women, and many men would back a mate who stepped in, we are not flattering them. We are changing the social weather.

Police Scotland’s “That Guy” campaign: a useful shift

Police Scotland’s  That Guy campaign⁠ is important because it makes a deliberate move away from telling women how to stay safe and towards asking men to look at their own attitudes, behaviour and peer culture.  The campaign is blunt about male sexual entitlement and the everyday behaviours that sit on the pathway to more serious harm.

That Guy challenges men not to “be that guy” and, crucially, not to be the guy who stays silent when a mate crosses the line.    That matters because it recognises something prevention work has often ignored: violence is not only an individual pathology issue. It is also a culture issue. Harm is enabled by laughter, excuses, minimisation, status games, and silence. The mate who says nothing may not be the offender, but he can still be part of the conditions in which offending becomes easier.

What is especially useful is that the campaign does not only say “don’t do harm”; it says “be a mate.” That is a better prevention frame than many people realise. It gives young men a socially acceptable identity to step into. It links intervention to loyalty, courage and care rather than to moral grandstanding. It says: your role in this is not to perform perfection. Your role is to stop things getting worse.

There is also evidence that this kind of message has traction. Police Scotland reported survey findings showing high levels of agreement among men that they have a part to play in reducing sexual violence, and that many would intervene with a friend who was harassing a woman. A majority also said that seeing more men speak out would make them more confident to do the same.  Building a sense of permission is way more powerful than simply telling men to challenge their friends.  When perceived costs outweigh the benefits, it’s clear, most men will remain silent. 

That is classic social norms territory. Men are more likely to act when they believe other men will act too.

Jackson Katz: from bystander to leader

If Berkowitz helps us understand norms, Jackson Katz helps us understand intervention.  Katz’s Mentors in Violence Prevention model was one of the first major violence prevention approaches to work directly with men and boys not as “potential perpetrators in waiting” but as leaders, teammates, peers and bystanders with influence.

He reframed gender violence as a men’s issue because men are disproportionately the perpetrators, but also because men are central to changing the cultures in which that violence occurs.  That distinction matters. Katz’s work does not let men off the hook. It puts them on it. But it does so in a way that preserves agency. Instead of asking, “Are you one of the bad men?”, it asks, “What do you do when your friend says that? When someone is getting a woman too drunk? When a teammate shares an image without consent? When a mate keeps pushing after she has said no?”  That is a much more practical question.

It also aligns with what we know about violence prevention: there are many moments before an offence where peer interruption is possible. A joke can be challenged. A woman can be checked on. A friend can be steered away. A lift home can be arranged. A rumour can be shut down. A group can decide what is and is not acceptable.

Why active bystandership matters

Active bystandership turns values into behaviour.  It gives young men permission, language and practical options for what to do in the moment. It helps them recognise early warning signs, assess risk, and intervene in ways that are direct, indirect, supportive or disruptive. It also teaches something just as important: how to receive intervention without ego and escalation.

That matters because social courage is easier when it has been practised. If the only script a young man has for challenging a mate is confrontation and humiliation, he may avoid it. But if he has learned several ways to intervene — humour, distraction, a quiet word, checking in, changing the subject, backing up another person, naming concern without public shaming , the threshold for action drops.

Active bystandership also works on the level Berkowitz identifies: it changes perceived norms. Every intervention is a social signal. Every “not funny”, “leave it”, “she’s too drunk”, “that’s not okay”, or “come on mate” tells the rest of the group something about what this culture accepts. Bystandership is not just about stopping one incident.  It is about rewriting the script of the room.

The conversation we need

So yes, we need a tougher conversation about violence. But we also need a more positive one with young men.  Positive does not mean soft. It means constructive. It means refusing the lazy binary between demonising men and excusing men. It means being honest about male violence while also being clear that many young men want better norms, better friendships and better models of masculinity.

The most effective prevention work does not simply tell young men what not to be. It shows them what they can be instead: the friend who speaks, the teammate who interrupts, the colleague who notices, the brother who refuses the laugh, the man who makes care and courage visible to other men.

That is the opportunity in Berkowitz’s social norms approach, in Jackson Katz’s bystander model, and in campaigns like “That Guy”. If we want fewer young men to commit violence, we need more young men to see intervention as normal, expected and respected.  Not because all men are the problem.  But because men, together, can be a decisive part of the answer.