Are Men Hard‑Wired for Violence, or Trained for It? Experts Weigh In

Men commit the vast majority of serious violence worldwide, but no single cause explains why. Instead, biology, psychology, social structures, and culture all interact to make some forms of male violence more likely—and others less acceptable.

The basic pattern: men and violence

Across cultures and time periods, men are responsible for most homicides, assaults, and wars, even though most men are not violent. Evolutionary psychologists Martin Daly and Margo Wilson note that lethal violence is heavily concentrated among young men competing for status and resources, which suggests deep-seated sex differences in risk‑taking and aggression. At the same time, cognitive scientist Steven Pinker notes that overall violence has declined dramatically over centuries, suggesting that social norms and institutions can constrain such tendencies.

Biology and evolution

Several evolutionary theories argue that male bodies and brains were shaped by ancestral competition over mates and territory. Males in many primate species, including humans, are larger and often more physically aggressive than females, a pattern linked to sexual selection and male–male competition. Anthropologist Richard Wrangham has written that male violence and dominance likely have “long been a part of our history,” but stresses that they are not destiny and can be curbed by social change.

Hormones are part of the story, but not the whole story. Testosterone is associated with dominance behavior and can modestly increase aggressive responses in some contexts, yet its effects are strongly shaped by social expectations and situations. Some criminologists, like Adrian Raine, argue that brain structure, genes, and even early lead exposure can biologically predispose certain men toward impulsive or violent acts, while still emphasizing that environment and policy (such as removing lead from gasoline and paint) can dramatically reduce risk. Other scholars warn against over-medicalizing violence as a “pathology,” arguing that it often reflects strategic choices in particular social environments rather than pure biological malfunction.

Psychology and mental health

On the psychological level, men who use severe violence are more likely than non‑violent men to have histories of trauma, anxiety, depression, or other mental health problems, though most people with these conditions are not violent. A large Canadian study of men found that cumulative exposure to violence—both as victims and as witnesses—was associated with higher levels of depression, post‑traumatic stress disorder, and anxiety, creating a feedback loop in which distress and aggression can reinforce each other.

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Gender norms also shape how men cope with emotion. Many men are taught to suppress fear and sadness and to avoid seeking help, a pattern researchers describe as “restrictive emotionality.” A 2025 study on toxic masculinity notes that when men equate masculinity with toughness, dominance, and emotional control, they are more likely to respond to conflict with aggression and less likely to use healthy coping strategies. This can turn ordinary frustrations—humiliation at work, jealousy in relationships, social rejection—into flashpoints for violence instead of opportunities for dialogue.

Sociology, inequality, and environment

Sociologists and criminologists emphasize that male violence clusters in specific environments: neighborhoods with high inequality, weak institutions, easy access to weapons, and limited legitimate paths to status. Daly and Wilson argue that in such settings, aggressive behavior can function as a rational—if destructive—strategy for gaining respect, deterring threats, or securing scarce resources, especially for young men with few alternatives.

Social learning also matters. Boys who grow up seeing violence used to solve disputes, whether in families, peer groups, or media, are more likely to see aggression as normal or necessary. In gang contexts, research shows that group identity, fear of appearing weak, and pressure from peers can push men toward violent acts they might not commit alone. Importantly, these forces can target men both as perpetrators and as victims: men are also disproportionately victims of assaults in public spaces and of state and criminal violence, which can further entrench cycles of trauma and retaliation.

Masculinity, culture, and “toxic” norms

Gender theorist Raewyn Connell’s concept of hegemonic masculinity describes a culturally idealized form of manhood built around dominance, control, and the subordination of women and less powerful men. This ideal is maintained not just by overt violence, but by everyday norms—such as ridiculing vulnerability or rewarding risk‑taking—that make aggression seem natural or even admirable. As one review put it, hegemonic masculinity is “a set of values, established by men in power,” that organizes society in gender‑unequal ways and helps legitimize the use of violence.

Contemporary work on “toxic masculinity” focuses on how these ideals harm men themselves. A study co‑authored by a Michigan State University sociologist found that men who strongly endorse hyper‑masculine norms—self‑reliance, dominance, emotional stoicism—report worse mental health and more social isolation. Another recent paper notes that toxic masculinity encourages aggression and dominance as proof of manhood while discouraging men from seeking psychological help, which can intensify distress and, in some cases, escalate conflicts into violence. Yet researchers also caution that not all expressions of masculinity are harmful and that many men actively resist or redefine traditional norms.

Disagreement and open questions

Experts disagree over how much weight to give biology versus culture. Evolutionary psychologists tend to stress inherited sex differences in risk‑taking and aggression, while many sociologists and feminists argue that power structures and gender norms do most of the work in channeling male behavior. There is also debate about concepts like toxic or hegemonic masculinity: some critics worry that these terms stigmatize all men, whereas others see them as essential tools for naming and changing harmful norms.

There is a similar controversy over how much individual psychopathology explains violent behavior. Criminologists like Raine emphasize brain and genetic factors, but other scholars argue that focusing on “bad brains” or “monsters” obscures the role of poverty, inequality, and political choices. Despite these arguments, there is broad agreement that no single factor—testosterone, trauma, culture, or media—can explain male violence on its own, and that multi‑level approaches work best in prevention.

So, what do we do with this?

If biology loads the dice for certain forms of male aggression, culture, policy, and personal choices decide how often those dice are rolled. Wrangham’s point—that male violence has deep roots but is not inevitable—echoes across the research: societies that reduce inequality, challenge harmful gender norms, support boys’ and men’s mental health, and provide non‑violent paths to respect can dramatically reduce violence, even if underlying predispositions remain.

As anthropologist Richard Bribiescas argues, evolution has not only given humans impulses that can lead to harm, but also the capacities for empathy, self‑control, and moral reflection. Whether men are “so violent” is therefore less a fixed verdict than a test of which versions of masculinity we reward, which environments we build, and which stories we tell boys about what it means to be a man.

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