The Tide of Human Affairs: Why Some Narratives Endure

The Most Contested Story We Tell

Of all the narratives a culture constructs to give meaning and order to human life, none may be more consequential than the story it tells about men and women.

Not just because that story determines, in the most literal sense, whether children get conceived, born, and raised well. But because the relationship between men and women is one of the great Paleolithic tensions, perhaps the great one. It is the subject that has occupied mostly male philosophers, poets, theologians, historians, and lawmakers across every civilization, with a remarkable consistency of confusion. Like the blind men describing the elephant, each grabbed a part and described women in simplistic terms: women as pure, women as corrupting, women as inferior, women as mystical, women as the root of suffering, women as the civilizing force. The descriptions changed. The confusion remained.

We are living through the latest and perhaps the loudest version of this confusion right now. The debates about men and women, boys and girls, have never been more contested or more culturally central. Feminism in its many waves and fractures. The manosphere and its varied currents of grievance and rediscovery. Toxic masculinity as diagnosis and as accusation. The feminine imperative as framework. Debates over equality of outcome versus equality of opportunity. Incels and their particular form of bewilderment. Trad wives as a counter-signal. Gender ideology and its discontents. These are seismic disruptions to dating, mating, and family formation that we likely cannot fully understand yet.

All of this is the blind-men-and-the-elephant problem at civilizational scale, and it is at least partly a consequence of trying to navigate an ancient evolutionary tension without the tools to see it clearly. The advent of evolutionary psychology has provided some of those tools. Not final answers, but genuine illumination, and a light switched on that lets us see the elephant whole enough to stop mistaking one part for the entire animal.

Schopenhauer and the Tradition of Confident Confusion

Schopenhauer is worth taking seriously, even when he’s wrong. His central idea was that reality is driven by a blind, irrational, insatiable Will, and that suffering is therefore not accidental but structural to existence. This is genuinely provocative and foreshadows evolutionary psychology. His pessimism was not mere temperament; it was a philosophical position with real intellectual force. His influence on Nietzsche, Freud, and Wittgenstein is evidence enough that something in him landed.

But his views on women are notorious, and not in a redemptive way. His 1851 essay “On Women” is a catalog of essentialist dismissals: women as intellectually deficient, morally unreliable, fundamentally suited only for reproduction and domestic care. It is embarrassing reading, even for his admirers.

What struck me, though, is that his error wasn’t unique. It was entirely ordinary from an historical frame. Aristotle called women “deformed males.” Rousseau found them naturally suited to subservience. The pattern is consistent enough across millennia to suggest a cause--and the cause, I think, is that the men doing the describing were working without the right framework. They encountered genuinely different behavior, motivations, and strategies, and, in the absence of any theory explaining why those differences existed, they reached for moral explanations. She is deceptive. She is irrational. She is inferior. She is pure. She is dangerous. She is evil. The moral framing substituted for an explanatory one; they did not have the tools to see or understand. What evolutionary psychology offers is a very reasonable explanatory model, and likely only a stepping stone (albeit a dramatic and revelatory one) in humanity’s understanding of itself.

The Paleolithic Paradox and the Co-Evolution of Strategies

I use the phrase “Paleolithic Paradox” to describe the basic mismatch between the brains we inherited from our hunter-gatherer ancestors and the radically novel environments we now inhabit. That mismatch runs through most of our important confusions as a civilization. But it is perhaps most acute in the dynamics between men and women, because those dynamics were calibrated so precisely for conditions that no longer exist.

The asymmetry is foundational to the postulates of evolutionary psychology. Women bear the obligatory costs of reproduction: pregnancy, nursing, and the extended dependency of offspring. In the view of evolutionary psychology, this asymmetry has driven a co-evolution: women’s selectivity in choosing partners favors strategies that emphasize long-term commitment and resource provision, while men’s lower minimum investment allows for more opportunistic approaches. Neither of these is a character flaw. In the cold calculus of evolution, they are solutions to real adaptive problems.

Women’s so-called “mysteriousness”--that is, the quality that so bewildered Schopenhauer and so many before and after him--looks in this light like an adaptation in its own right. Behavioral unpredictability, indirect signaling, delayed commitment: these are calibrated responses to the problem of assessing a potential partner’s reliability before making an irreversible investment. The opacity wasn’t a defect. It was doing work.

Men’s drive for status, resource accumulation, and mate guarding similarly emerges from selection pressures on paternity certainty and offspring survival. Not villainy. Not virtue. Adaptive strategy.

This framing doesn’t eliminate conflict. But it relocates the conflict from the moral register to the biological one, where it becomes comprehensible rather than merely enraging. We don’t apply moral language to sexually dimorphic behavior in other species. The peacock’s tail is not oppressive. The elephant seal’s aggression is not toxic masculinity. In humans, we can’t help but moralize, as that capacity is itself an evolutionary adaptation for regulating social behavior. But we can at least notice when the moralizing is obscuring the explanation.

The Disruption and the Cold Calculus

We are now running an unprecedented experiment in decoupling the ancient dynamics from their reproductive consequences, and the results are playing out demographically. In our current conceptions of centralized problem-solving, there are many attempts to address this through policy, but these dynamics are candidly beyond policy’s reach.

Female contraception, widespread internet pornography, AI companionship, sex dolls, and whatever technologies follow--each of these hacks a different part of the co-evolved mating system. Each provides a superstimulus that mimics some part of the ancestral experience while removing the reproductive consequence. Sex without pregnancy. Intimacy without commitment. Arousal without a partner. Companionship without reciprocity. These are not small tweaks to human behavior. They are interventions into systems shaped over millions of years, and they are driving birth rates in tech-saturated secular societies well below the 2.1 replacement threshold.

From a purely evolutionary standpoint, the long-term winners of this disruption are likely to be traditional and religious cultures, whose narratives actively resist these substitutions. Not because they are morally superior, but because their stories still align with the reproductive math. Religious women average significantly more children than secular women. That differential compounds across generations. The tide of demographics is indifferent to ideology.

I am skeptical that policy can redirect this. Human cultural narratives are, by nature, not rational but narrative. They are stories people live in, not cost-benefit calculations they run consciously. You can’t subsidize or nudge your way out of a memetic transition.

Governance, Religion, and the Stories That Work With Human Nature

The narratives that survive are the ones that follow the tide of human nature rather than try to redirect it. This applies whether the domain is political order, spiritual life, or the intimate architecture of families.

The framers of the U.S. Constitution represent one of history’s most deliberate and successful attempts to design an institution around a realistic appraisal of human nature. Madison’s formulation in Federalist No. 51 is almost a direct application of what we now call evolutionary psychology to political structure: men are not angels; they are ambitious and self-interested, so build a system that makes ambition counteract ambition. The result was a governance structure of remarkable durability, not because it transcended human nature but because it worked with it.

The same logic applies to religious traditions. The most enduring narratives about men and women tend to frame the differences between the sexes as meaningful and complementary, provide scaffolding for stable pair bonds, elevate parenthood to a transcendent rather than merely obligatory status, and create communal networks that reduce the cost of large families. These aren’t arbitrary doctrines. They are solutions to the core adaptive problem of getting men and women to cooperate reliably enough to produce and protect the next generation.

Memetic Selection and the Tide

Richard Dawkins introduced the meme as a unit of cultural transmission: ideas, behaviors, stories, and beliefs that replicate through imitation and social learning, subject to variation and selection the way genes are in biological evolution. The durable cultural units survive not because they are true in a correspondence-to-reality sense, but because they are fit for human minds. They resonate with our evolved psychology, reduce existential anxiety, create belonging, and give people compelling reasons to have children and protect them.

Narratives that fight our Paleolithic wiring tend to falter. Narratives that ride the tide are perpetuated through memetic selection. This is, I think, what Isaac Asimov was reaching for with psychohistory in the Foundation series. He invented a science of civilizational trajectories that treats populations the way statistical mechanics treats gases, where individual unpredictability averages into collective patterns. We don’t have psychohistory. But we do have evolutionary psychology, memetics, and a long enough historical record to see which kinds of stories survive.

Friedrich Hayek called it the “fatal conceit”: the arrogant presumption that humans can deliberately shape social orders according to conscious design. Our Paleolithic brains consistently overestimate reason’s power to override processes that operate on timescales far beyond individual or generational foresight.

The appropriate response is not passivity but epistemic humility. Observe the tide. Understand what it is actually carrying. Be modest about the levers. Pay attention to which stories, which institutions, which ways of organizing the relationship between men and women, have proved durable--not because we mandated them, but because they fit. There is something clarifying about this view. It doesn’t tell us what to do, but it does help us see more clearly: the drama of the present moment is real, but it is also eternal. The tensions between men and women have always been with us: the competing strategies, the moral languages built up around them, the institutions that channel or inflame them . What is new is the possibility, however partial, of seeing them for what they are.

The tide of human affairs moves whether we understand it or not. The question is whether we’re wise enough to observe it clearly.