Many of our readers have watched and reacted to Netflix’s Adolescence.1 What are your thoughts about the themes depicted in the show?
Adolescence has generated strong reactions for good reason. It’s intense, disturbing, emotionally charged, and reflects an uncomfortable truth that some young people are drawn into violent worlds long before the adults around them realise. What the show captures well is how online spaces can become dangerous breeding grounds for those who are vulnerable, isolated or searching for identity. It shines a necessary spotlight on how gendered violence can spread through digital spaces, and illustrates how adolescents can be failed by systems and left without the tools to understand the gravity of their actions.
That said, the show is heavily focused on the consequences of extreme violence, with no exploration of how young people get drawn into digital echo chambers that feed them increasingly extreme content. It doesn’t unpack the grooming tactics, the validation loops or the way manipulation often hides in plain sight. And crucially, there was no mention of holding tech companies to account, with the burden of prevention continuing to fall on families, schools and frontline workers. Adolescence started important conversations, but left us with a challenge about what to do. Do we blame the child? Or do we use our responses as fuel to push for better safeguards, earlier intervention and accountability at every level, including the tech giants who shape the online worlds young people are growing up in?
Can you tell us a bit about your background and what led you to write the Youth Violence Prevention Programme?2
I didn’t come into this work through textbooks; I came into it through lived reality. I was the young person people were afraid of and didn’t want their children hanging around with. I carried a knife, made the wrong choices and spent 10 years in prison. It was in that environment, of paranoia and fear, that I made the decision to change my life. The people who stuck by me and saw past my labels made the real difference, and for the past 20 years, I’ve been doing the same for other young people caught up in violence, exploitation and chaos. I created the Youth Violence Prevention Programme because I’ve sat with too many families who have lost children to youth violence, and too many young people who are on the edge. I wanted to create something to help practitioners engage in conversations with young people and help them feel seen before it’s too late.
It’s a great resource; how would you describe it?
It isn’t just a resource; it’s a reset; a tool designed to spark real conversations about violence, peer pressure and conflict. Young people receive mixed messages about violence through social media, music, films and their own communities. The use of force is often glamorised, justified or normalised. For some, violence becomes a badge of honour. For others, it’s a reaction to pain. The programme starts with 15 principles, which are non-negotiables that centre respect, empathy and responsibility, to help young people find their moral compass. For professionals who are expected to ‘hold’ so much, this resource is a compass for them too, providing something solid to return to when conversations get difficult or emotionally charged. It supports the development of practitioner confidence, insight and consistency, offering a structure that’s flexible, traumainformed and grounded in real-world relevance. The aim isn’t just to reduce violent behaviour. It’s to rebuild belief systems, grow professional capacity, and equip both young people and the adults who support them to navigate violence with honesty, accountability and hope.
Can you explain your use of the term ‘violence desistance’?
I don’t just mean stopping someone from throwing a punch. I mean supporting them through the deep and difficult process of unlearning violence as a way of surviving, expressing or controlling. For some young people, violence is normalised and can become their identity, their armour. Choosing not to be violent can bring up feelings of vulnerability, fear or powerlessness, and we must acknowledge that. For some, not carrying a weapon feels like leaving the house without protection. Not retaliating feels like letting someone walk all over you. But here’s the truth: in every single one of those situations, the outcome is nearly always worse when violence is the response. Carrying a knife doesn’t make you safer; it puts you at greater risk of serious injury, arrest, escalation or death.
Desistance is about showing young people that there’s strength in restraint, that protection doesn’t have to come through intimidation, and that you can reclaim control without losing your humanity. This programme creates space for those conversations. It helps young people confront the fears behind their choices, and it gives professionals a way to walk with them, not around them, in that process. Desistance doesn’t happen in isolation. It happens in connection.
Can you elaborate on what you refer to as the ‘deadly quartet’ of youth violence?
It’s a way of defining the four forces I’ve seen time and again at the root of serious youth violence – 1: Adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) such as trauma, abuse, neglect and grief. 2: Alcohol and substance abuse, not as rebellion, but as a way to numb what they were never helped to process. 3: Access to weapons, which give a false sense of power, while escalating fear, conflict and tragedy. 4: Associations with peer groups, where violence is accepted or expected, and where vulnerability is a weakness.
How do you advocate creating safe and trauma-informed spaces?
For many young people affected by violence, the world has never felt safe. Home, school, even their own emotions can feel dangerous, because anger, fear and shame have led to punishment or rejection. Creating a traumainformed space is about building a place where they can exist without armour. In a counselling setting, that means being deeply aware that violence leaves emotional residue and stirs up powerful emotions. Part of creating safety for a young person means being honest about what we bring into the room, including an awareness of our own biases and assumptions; being mindful of our energy, tone, posture and expressions; remaining grounded and regulated; being predictable and calm; inviting participation, not demanding it. You don’t have to be an expert on youth violence to use this resource. Counsellors already bring curiosity, compassion and the ability to sit with complexity. Your role is to hold the space, follow the thread and make it safe to go deeper.
What role do you think there is for counsellors and psychotherapists in reducing youth violence?
A crucial one. Youth violence is often seen as something to be policed or punished, but underneath the behaviour is almost always something older, deeper and harder to name: trauma, grief, fear, shame, loss of control. Counsellors and psychotherapists are not enforcers, they are listeners, with the capacity to help young people make sense of chaotic experiences, offer safety in a world that has felt unsafe, name the pain beneath the rage, model calm when they’re used to volatility, listen when they expect to be dismissed, and offer connection where there has been disconnection.
Can you tell us about the 15 founding principles?
They are the emotional and ethical backbone of the Youth Violence Prevention Programme, an invitation to reflect, connect and take ownership of the kind of person you want to be in the world. Before any scenario is explored, these Youth violence is often seen as something to be policed or punished, but underneath the behaviour is almost always something older, deeper and harder to name: trauma, grief, fear, shame, loss of control 08 Featured article BACP Children, Young People & Families | September 2025 principles are introduced, discussed and agreed upon, which gives young people a voice to define what’s right, what’s safe and what’s fair. The principles are: Violence is never an acceptable solution; Respect yourself and others; Effective communication and active listening can help resolve conflicts peacefully; Empathy and understanding foster a supportive and inclusive community; Seeking help is a strength; Diversity and difference should be celebrated; Healthy relationships are built on trust, respect, and communication; Everyone has a role in creating a safe environment; Positive coping strategies help reduce violence; Kindness and compassion create a ripple effect of change; Take responsibility for your actions; Stereotypes and biases fuel conflict and harm; Violence has long-term impacts; Forgiveness, compromise and restorative justice can support healing; Speak out against violence – safely and when possible.
These sound like a solid bedrock for the work, but I’m wondering if introducing them ever causes disagreement or controversy?
Yes, and I think that’s part of what makes them powerful because they challenge deeply held beliefs or survival strategies. One principle that can stir resistance is ‘violence is never an acceptable solution.’ For a young person who’s been taught that if you don’t fight, you fall, this can feel unrealistic. Look at the world we live in right now; people with power dominate. But that’s exactly why we don’t just present the principles, we explore them, by asking, ‘What makes this hard to believe?’ It’s not about forcing agreement; it’s about creating space to reflect.
Another area that can spark discomfort is the emphasis on forgiveness, reconciliation or restorative justice. Some young people feel that forgiving someone who’s hurt them, or seeking forgiveness from someone they’ve harmed, feels too vulnerable, or even unsafe. That’s OK. We offer it as a concept to explore, not a demand to meet. I’ve found that the moments of resistance are often the moments of growth. If a principle causes discomfort, it usually means it’s touching something important. The role of the facilitator or therapist is to stay steady in that discomfort, not to shut it down or steer it away, but to let it breathe. Because that’s often where the shift begins.
That’s true in therapy too. Change often grows from the moments of struggle, which we might think of as ‘rupture and repair’. Can you explain the prompt cards and how we might use them in a counselling setting?
The prompt cards are the heartbeat of the Youth Violence Prevention Programme. They’re the tools that take the scenarios beyond surface level and invite young people to think, feel and reflect, with each prompt designed to encourage conversation. We’re not asking for the ‘right’ answer, we’re asking, ‘Why do you think they did that? What’s really going on?’ The beauty of the prompts is that they meet young people where they are. Some might talk confidently about what they’d do in a certain scenario. Others might go quiet because it’s hitting too close to home. That’s when the prompt becomes a mirror or a moment of insight. They also give practitioners structure without rigidity, and help you steer the conversation without dominating it. They allow young people to make the connections themselves, between actions and consequences, feelings and choices, harm and healing.
Used well, the prompt cards can help counsellors explore moral reasoning, identify emotional triggers, unpack learned behaviours and introduce alternative coping strategies. They also allow for indirect disclosure. A young person might describe a scenario in detail because they’ve lived it, but talking about it through the lens of someone else gives them the safety to speak without fear of judgment. The prompts can also help counsellors gauge readiness. If a young person shuts down or reacts strongly, that’s useful information. It tells us where the edges are, and gives us a chance to slow down, reframe, or hold space rather than push forward.
I really like the idea of indirect exploration and meeting young people where they’re at, which also chimes with a client-led approach to counselling. Again, I’m wondering about any challenges you’ve faced using the prompt cards?
When a scenario challenges a young person’s core beliefs, say, to do with peer pressure, young people might ask, ‘What if saying “no” means I lose my friends?’ or ‘What if walking away means I become the next target?’ These aren’t hypothetical fears. For many, peer rejection can feel like a social death sentence, especially in communities where reputation is everything and being alone is unsafe. We invite young people to step back and explore the story behind the scenario, and the consequences that might follow. This exercise is powerful because it challenges the assumption that violence or conflict ‘just happens’. Instead, it helps young people unpack the build-up – the feelings, influences, missed moments and social dynamics that often go unseen. We encourage them to consider any warning signs or chances for someone to step in; was this really a choice or was it pressure, fear or survival? Thinking about the ‘during’ stage, we prompt them to explore emotions in the moment; the roles of bystander, instigator, victim, friend; the decisions that were made, who by and why? We also explore what could happen next; how it might play out at school, at home, how it might impact their mental health or their future prospects; what might accountability look like? What might healing or repair involve?
As facilitators, our role is to guide gently, not moralise, and to ask the kind of questions that deepen awareness and open up choice. This activity often shifts the energy in the room.
You suggest follow-up discussions focusing on empathy building, problem solving and action planning. How can we prompt these discussions?
The follow-up phase is where the work becomes personal, reflective and transformational. By this point, young people have stepped into the shoes of others, explored challenging scenarios, and considered emotional, social and practical consequences. Now, we help them turn that reflection into a shift in mindset, a new strategy or a more hopeful direction.
To build empathy, we might ask, ‘How do you think each person in that scenario felt before, during and after? What might they have needed but didn’t get? Have you ever felt like that? What helped you, or what didn’t?’ We’re not just teaching empathy, we’re making it relatable, and helping young people to understand that every act of harm has emotional roots and ripples. It also helps them see others, not as enemies or threats, but as human beings with stories, just like them.
We encourage problem solving by asking, ‘What could have been done differently? Who could have stepped in, and how? What would a better outcome have looked like?’ This is about building critical thinking and conflict navigation skills. Many young people affected by violence haven’t had the space to imagine alternative responses, they’ve only seen one way to handle disrespect, fear or pressure. This part of the session allows them to rehearse new options in a safe space.
For action planning, we shift into personal relevance by asking, ‘If something like this happened in your community, what would you do? Who could you turn to for support?’ This isn’t about grand solutions, it’s about small, realistic steps that a young person can take to protect themselves, support others or change how they respond. Sometimes, that action is reaching out. Sometimes, it’s walking away. Sometimes, it’s just pausing long enough to make a better choice. Empathy, problem solving and action planning feed into each other. Together, they help young people shift from reacting to responding with intention. They give them back a sense of control, not through force, but through understanding, reflection and the belief that change is possible.
And I think that’s a strong message running through the resource and through our conversation – that change is possible. Thank you so much for sharing your valuable insights with us, Junior, and for the life-changing, and potentially life-saving, work that you’re doing with young people.
References
1 Adolescence. [Television.] Philip Barantini (dir.) Netflix 2025; 13 March.
2 Smart, J. Youth violence prevention programme. London: Loggerheads Publishing Ltd; 2025.