If you stroll through Twitter/X these days, you may be struck by the stark contrast in discussions about patriarchy. In one tweet, a feminist activist will declare patriarchy the root of all societal evils. On the other side, a conservative pundit will dismiss the concept as overblown feminist rhetoric. Which is it?
I’m thinking about patriarchy this week after Monday’s episode of You Have Permission, in which my former pastor and his wife tell their story of moving their marriage and congregation from a complementarian theology (God ordains separate tasks for men and women) to an egalitarian one (men and women are fully equal in all tasks).
What is patriarchy?
Patriarchy is a social system in which men hold primary power, predominating in roles of political leadership, moral authority, social privilege, and control of property. If you look at societies around the world, it’s clear that there is a strong form of patriarchy in several non-Western countries, while a weaker form is still operant in the West.
Let’s turn back the clock: in the ancient Near Eastern biblical world of roughly 1300 BCE to 150 CE, as former You Have Permission guest and theologian Carolyn Custis James put it, "Patriarchy is the air the biblical characters breathe, the water they swim in." In this world, a woman's worth was inextricably tied to her ability to bear children, especially sons. Barrenness was a devastating burden, often viewed as divine punishment. Add to this the vulnerability of being a widow or a foreigner, and you have a society where certain individuals — particularly women — were pushed to the absolute margins (a great example of the concept of intersectionality in action).
Yet, even in this deeply patriarchal context, we see in the biblical story glimmers of a different way. Consider the story of Ruth, a barren foreign widow — a "zero" in the patriarchal value system. Against all odds, she becomes a key figure in the lineage of King David and, ultimately, Jesus himself. Or think about Mary of Bethany, sitting at Jesus' feet as a disciple, in a role reserved only for men in that culture.
Patriarchy now
Fast forward to today, and we see that while the forms may have changed, patriarchy persists in many parts of the world. Recent research in Pakistan highlights how patriarchal norms continue to limit women's access to education, restrict their mobility, and perpetuate violence against them with honor killings, rape, acid attacks, and forced marriages. In the West, where formal equality is enshrined in law, while we may not see such overt forms of such violent patriarchy as frequently or publicly, domestic abuse remains a serious issue, and other more subtle forms of patriarchy abound.
In their book Why Does Patriarchy Persist? Carol Gilligan and Naomi Snider offer psychological insights into the endurance of patriarchal structures. They argue that patriarchy serves as a male defense against vulnerability, persisting due to a deep-rooted fear of loss, particularly the loss of love and connection. This fear, they suggest, is rooted in early childhood experiences where boys are often pushed to separate from their mothers and suppress their emotional needs in order to conform to masculine norms.
Gilligan and Snider posit that this early trauma creates a cycle of emotional disconnection that perpetuates patriarchal structures. Men, fearing vulnerability, seek to maintain control and power, while women, socialized to prioritize relationships, often sacrifice their own needs to maintain harmony. This dynamic is further reinforced by feelings of shame and guilt: men may feel shame for their emotional needs, while women may feel guilty for asserting themselves.
The authors argue that this psychological underpinning of patriarchy is so deeply ingrained that it persists even in societies that have formally embraced gender equality. It manifests in subtle ways like how we raise our children, our workplace dynamics, and in intimate relationships. Breaking this cycle, they suggest, requires a radical reimagining of how we understand gender, power, and human connection. Gilligan and Snider come from a predominantly psychoanalytic/psychodynamic perspective, which tends to focus on early childhood experience and traces its lineage back to Sigmund Freud. (For the record, I am sometimes convinced by this approach and its explanatory power, both in theoretical and clinical settings, and sometimes much less convinced.)
Evolutionary psychologists offer yet another perspective on the origins and persistence of patriarchy. Robert Trivers' parental investment theory suggests that differences in reproductive biology led to different mating strategies between males and females. Because females invest more in reproduction (through pregnancy and lactation), they tend to be more selective in choosing mates. Males, with lower obligatory investment, may compete more intensely for mating opportunities. This dynamic, Trivers argued, could have led to the evolution of certain behavioral differences between sexes. Edward O. Wilson, in his work on sociobiology, argued that patriarchal structures might have emerged as a result of biological predispositions interacting with cultural evolution.
Regardless of whether patriarchal norms emerge primarily out of evolution and biology or deep-seated anxieties expressing themselves culturally, in my view they are largely neither adaptive nor beneficial in our modern environment. Just as our taste for sugar (adaptive in resource-scarce environments) can lead to health problems in modern food-rich contexts, any evolved tendencies towards patriarchy may be maladaptive in our complex, interconnected societies.
What now?
So where does this leave us, particularly when it comes to religion? I think it’s crucial that, as a Christian, I challenge the patriarchy embedded in the biblical story. Just because the biblical authors lived in a patriarchal world does not itself require that I maintain those views or structures. Doing so not only perpetuates harmful power dynamics but also misses the radical, counter-cultural elements of the biblical narrative. (For more on this, check out that early episode with Carolyn Custis James!)
In religious communities, we need to grapple honestly with the patriarchal elements in our sacred texts and traditions, and critically examine how these elements have shaped our theology and practice. But it also means lifting up those counter-cultural narratives that challenge patriarchy, using them as inspiration for creating more equitable and just communities. We need to lean into subversive threads, like the stories of Ruth and Mary of Bethany (for more on Mary Magdalene’s likely financial role in Jesus’ ministry, check out this episode). We should be paying close attention to Jesus' radical treatment of women, his defiance of cultural taboos, and his empowerment of women as disciples and witnesses.
Addressing patriarchy isn't about vilifying men or dismantling all traditional structures. It's about recognizing the inherent worth and dignity of every person, regardless of gender or sex. It's about creating systems and cultures where everyone can flourish, where power is shared equitably, and where no one's potential is limited by arbitrary gender norms… of any kind. A man working in construction while his wife teaches elementary school is not patriarchal if each of them has had total freedom and support to choose their own vocation.
As figures like Vice President Kamala Harris aim to break the highest glass ceiling in American politics, and others like J.D. Vance seem to be competing for "most out of touch man" award, the cultural conversation about patriarchy is sure to continue. I’m hopeful that we who are willing can bring wisdom and balance to the conversation by avoiding polarized rhetoric and engaging in this work with nuance, empathy, and care.
Great post, so much new and interesting info on patriarchy. I always found it interesting how many of the Bible's barren women (supposedly divine judgment) went on to have very important babies.
Dan, thanks for dipping into patriarchy in the Bible, but allow me to offer an alternate reading on Ruth. Though it's a beautiful text, I would argue that Ruth's validation comes only through her submission to the Bethlehem patriarchy. She's just a marginalized, foreign, childless widow until Boaz decides to act. Bearing a son for Boaz legitimates her reason for being., and even Naomi is wrapped up in it. Notice how Ruth's name isn't used again once we read "and she gave birth to a son." It's the Israelite Naomi who remains in our story, while Ruth, our most active agent, disappears once she has served her purpose.