A Counsellor's Perspective on the Netflix Series 'Adolescence'

Have you ever looked at someone whose life had taken a disastrous wrong turn and thought, That could have been me—if just a few details of my life had been different? This was my experience after watching Adolescence.

Watching the series, I found myself deeply moved—not just by its tragic events, but by a sense of personal recognition. The boy at the heart of the fictional story, Jamie, accused of an unthinkable crime, did not grow up in a world far removed from my own. In many ways, our childhoods were similar: I had a tradesman father, I grew up in an area where violence was common, struggled with insecurity about my social status and appearance, and experienced bullying. But one crucial difference stood out to me: I grew up in a world before social media, before the toxic pull of manipulative influencers, and before the inescapable reach of online interaction that can amplify bullying to a relentless degree. Had I been raised in today’s digital age, under the same pressures, would I have made different choices than Jamie? Or worse, the same ones? That question lingered with me for days after watching the show and left me with a deeply uncomfortable feeling.

One of the most striking aspects of Adolescence is its deep sense of uncertainty—its refusal to offer easy answers about responsibility or the precise chain of events leading to tragedy. The parents in the series undergo painful soul-searching, questioning whether their actions, or lack of action, somehow led to disaster. It’s a stark reminder that no matter how carefully we try to shape the lives of those we love, we can never fully predict how our choices will ripple outward.

This uncertainty extends to our own self-reflection. When we try to imagine how we might have behaved in another person’s circumstances, we can never truly know—only guess. This is epitomised in the series by the police officers and Jamie’s family searching for an explanation for his actions, only to concede that no single answer offers a conclusive, objective truth.

The Milgram Experiment

Just as the characters in Adolescence are shaped by external pressures, we too can make choices that, in hindsight, seem unfathomable—yet are often influenced by forces beyond our control, like authority and social conditioning. In the aftermath of the Holocaust, researchers set out to understand how ordinary Germans could participate in behaviours that seemed incomprehensible to the American general public. What following was the The Milgram Experiment, which demonstrated how easily people can be swayed by authority figures. In the experiment, participants were instructed to administer painful electric shocks simply because they were told to by an authority figure. A significant number of the participants even agreed to give shocks that would have been deadly if actually administered. It revealed how easily we can be swayed by those we perceive as more powerful or knowledgeable than ourselves, even when doing so goes against our own moral convictions or beliefs.

How, then, do we make sense of the damaging actions of people whose behaviour appears to be so heavily influenced by social conditioning and external pressures? And is it possible to fully understand or empathize with those who have made choices we find abhorrent? When we see others act in ways we disapprove of, our first instinct is often to judge—to separate ourselves from them, reassuring ourselves that we would have done differently. But how can we be so sure?

One of the most profound lessons I’ve learned as a counsellor, is that any behaviour, belief, or decision—however illogical or damaging it may seem—often makes complete sense when viewed through the lens of that person’s unique life experience. Upbringing, the social and cultural environment and ingrained beliefs and values all interact, to create a filter, through which all our experiences pass through. If in childhood, the people who said they loved you also caused you harm, perhaps it isn’t a great leap to believe that harming those you love is normal. If you were taught to believe that the world is a cruel, merciless place and that the odds will always be stacked against you, you might make choices that others consider destructive, but which, from your perspective, feel inevitable.

Even when we attempt to understand another’s world, we do so through our own filter of biases, beliefs, and experiences. Carl Rogers called this our “frame of reference.” He argued that true understanding requires an effort to see beyond our own assumptions, and this is where the concept of unconditional positive regard becomes particularly valuable. Rogers describes this as “accepting and respecting others as they are without judgment or evaluation.”

This idea challenges us to sit with the discomfort of not fully understanding another’s choices, and yet still accepting that their actions are rooted in experiences we may never fully grasp. It does not mean approving of harmful behaviour, but it does mean resisting the urge to reduce a person to their worst decisions. Instead of seeing people as simply good or bad, it encourages us to acknowledge the complex interplay of forces—social, psychological, and emotional—that shape human behaviour.

In counselling, unconditional positive regard is invaluable. It’s not about standing at a safe distance and offering comfort—it’s about stepping into another person’s reality and offering them acceptance, regardless of their past choices. But even outside of a therapeutic setting, this approach has the power to transform how we relate to others. When we resist the temptation to judge too quickly, we allow space for nuance, complexity, and a deeper, more human understanding of why people do the things they do.

Adolescence left me unsettled because it forced me to confront uncomfortable truths—not just about the characters in the show, but about myself. It forced me question how much of who I am was shaped by forces outside my control, and how easily things could have turned out differently. It reminded me that while we may never fully understand another person’s choices, we can choose how we respond to them. And perhaps, in choosing to respond with compassion instead of rushing to condemn, we open the door to understanding—not just of others, but of ourselves.