The Syllogism

Robert adopted the tone of one who explains the self-obvious to a child. “My father and his father understood themselves clearly. They were men, and they were proud of their sex. Women understood them too.” Robert emptied his glass and added, “There was no confusion.”

“Women did as they were told,” Colin said, squinting into the light.

Robert made a small movement of his hand towards Colin. “Now men doubt themselves, they hate themselves, even more than they hate each other. Women treat men like children, because they can’t take them seriously.” Robert sat on the arm of the chair and rested his hand on Colin’s shoulder. His voice dropped. “But they love men. Whatever they might say they believe, women love aggression and strength and power in men. It’s deep in their minds. Look at all the women a successful man attracts. If what I’m saying wasn’t true, women would protest at every war. Instead, they love to send their men to fight. The pacifists, the objectors, are mostly men. And even though they hate themselves for it, women long to be ruled by men. It’s deep in their minds. They lie to themselves. They talk of freedom, and dream of captivity.” Robert was massaging Colin’s shoulder gently as he spoke, Colin sipped his champagne and stared in front of him. Robert’s voice now had something of the quality of recital, like a child at its multiplication tables. “It is the world that shapes people’s minds. It is the men who have shaped the world. So women’s minds are shaped by men. From earliest childhood, the world they see is made by men. Now the women lie to themselves and there is confusion and unhappiness everywhere. It wasn’t the case in my grandfather’s day. These few things of his remind me of that.”

— Ian McEwan, The Comfort of Strangers (1981)