A Rabbi and Therapist’s Take on ‘Adolescence’

After watching Netflix’s series  “Adolescence,” as a rabbi and therapist, my first question was, “Who’s to blame?” The series focuses on 13-year-old Jamie Miller, a young British boy who is accused of murdering Katie, a female classmate. We learn about Jamie’s engagement with Instagram, his interactions with Katie online and how social media, his self-worth, and relationships with women impact his choices. The four episodes peel back the layers of Jamie’s personality, goading the viewer to wonder how and why a seemingly benign child could commit such a tortuous act. He is charming, sweet, and even after watching the video that implicates Jamie for murder, we are left confused. This couldn’t possibly be the same child who wet his pants when confronted by the police. There is a supportive, loving, compassionate father who stands by his son’s side. A dedicated, down-to-earth family with a devoted mother and sister. They must have the wrong child. But they don’t. Jamie is obviously the murderer. And my only conclusion to the question, “Who’s to blame?” is the following: 

We all are. 

Here are my three takeaways from “Adolescence”:

Jamie’s family is our family. Mine and yours. There is nothing special or different about Jamie’s family. A family of four trying to make ends meet. A mother and father involved enough but also understandably busy with work, keeping a roof over their children’s heads and staying ahead of piling bills. The family is not visibly poor and likewise, not visibly wealthy. The family has enough means to buy their son a coveted pair of Nike trainers but not enough to keep his father home from working late-evening shifts. Their children have phones and are on social media, not surprising for a young boy and girl over the age of 13. According to the Pew Research Study in 2024, six out of 10 teenagers engage with TikTok on a daily basis and on average, half of all teenagers use Instagram and Snapchat every day. Jamie attends a private school, where there is both a policy for wearing uniforms and cell phone usage. Teachers struggle at enforcing both. 

As a mother of a 13-year-old and rabbi who interacts with hundreds of teenagers, there was nothing remarkable about Jamie, his family or school. And because of this lack of distinction, I felt compelled to continue watching the series. Yes, we should add social media alert apps to our children’s devices. Yes, we should work together to strengthen cell phone bans in middle schools and high schools. And yes, there must be a concerted effort to breakdown the ways young men are relating to young women. However, the first takeaway was, this can happen to me. This can happen to any of us. So, I implore you, do not turn off the television. Keep watching. Because Jamie’s family’s story could easily be any one of ours. Encourage your friends and peers to watch the series. We can’t afford to hide, turn the other way or pretend that the consequences displayed in “Adolescence” only happens to certain families. This story is just as much about Jamie Miller as it is about all of us. 

Our children speak a different language. One of the most poignant scenes is when Adam, DI Luke Bascombe’s son pulls his father aside during an investigation at Adam’s school. Bascombe goes classroom by classroom, trying to discover Jamie’s motive. Adam, who is wildly unpopular and clearly bullied himself, explains his father is asking the wrong questions, looking in the incorrect places. To understand Jamie’s motive, one must understand the world of social media, the harrowing underworld of Instagram and TikTok, and the language used by teenagers and young adults. Adam reveals that just one emoji, followed by hundreds of “likes” can cause a teenager to spiral out of control. Following the release of “Adolescence,” articles popped up explaining the multiple meanings behind seemingly innocent emojis. Business Today explains that certain emojis are used to symbolize drugs, sexual acts, acts of bullying and ways to get around helicopter parents. Proverbs 22:6 reads, “Train a child in the way he should go. He will not swerve from it even in old age.” Meaning, parenting is hard. Each child should come with a different set of instructions but we must stay vigilant. Attachment parenting teaches us that we must “study” our child in order to develop a sense of trust between parent and child. We spend years laying a strong foundation so that when our child is in need, they will know we are present to help them navigate this murky world. However, parents are now at a severe disadvantage. Where it may have been a lack of understanding in the newest lingo (i.e. “cringe” or “slay”), when allowing children on social media, it is as if we are sending them into an alternative universe where parents are unaware of the rules, communication, dialects and consequences. Permission to “go online” must now come with training seminars (updated each quarter) so that both parents and young adults are aware of the words, phrases, and messages conveyed through a single heart, kidney bean, eggplant or snowflake. Imagine sending our child into outer space without a GPS or roadmap. How are they supposed to navigate this language when we, their instructors, role models and teachers are not even aware of the language’s existence itself?

The village is dead. When Jamie posted pictures of models on Instagram, was there not one parent or professional (outside of Jamie’s parents) who noticed the story? A major preventative in ACES, adverse childhood experiences include the positive presence of someone outside of the child’s parents. For example, is there a teacher, guidance counselor, camp leader, rabbi, priest or peer’s friend who serves as another mentor or resource to that child? But realistically, who would have seen the social media posts? Ideally, another parent or older sibling or even responsible friend might think to themselves, “This could go very wrong.” 

Perhaps because of the extremes associated with isolation during the COVID years, we have lost accountability for one another. In “Adolescence,” the teachers are overworked, exhausted and, like many professionals, trying to “survive” hour by hour. The storyline moves forward. We don’t witness any past phone calls from worried teachers about Jamie’s behavior or concerned parents who caught Jamie or Katie’s interactions online. And when we think about our own circles, how many of us have fostered environments where we have said to our children’s friends’ or peers’ parents, “Please call me if you see anything troubling about my kid”? In a world in which we ourselves post facades, painting stories of perfect families, vacations and lifestyles, it is difficult to ask our community for help in raising our children. However, we must move beyond our egos and for the sake of our children, create the village once again. When you are unable to be online, who is watching your children? And likewise, are you willing to help guide the children around you, moving past judgment, embracing scrutiny in a way that just might save the lives of those you love?

For years I have preached about the uniqueness of each soul; each one of us has a purpose we are meant to achieve in our lifetimes. But in reality, we are not that different from each other. In efforts to escape the watchful, often painful gaze of others, our children retreated into a different world: a world with a different language, different rules and different norms. Now is the time for a revolution. To take back our kids. Take back our village. The rabbis teach that if you save one life, it is as if you have saved an entire world. 

If we don’t counterculturally embrace each other, there may not be a world left to save. Who’s to blame? Us. Who is responsible? You and me. 

I won’t turn away. I hope you don’t either.

Rabbi Nicole Guzik is Senior Rabbi at Sinai Temple.