What would you rather have measured: your IQ or your testicles?

Where maternity is concerned, studies are quick to generalise. But when paternity comes in, research hardly ever gets further than the testicles.

The 21st century has been relatively kind to women in the workplace: homemaker is no longer seen as the pinnacle of female ambition; law, medicine and engineering have all seen impressive numbers of female students (with ‘warnings’ from the Royal College of Physicians suggesting that by 2017, most doctors will be women); all-women political shortlists have seen encouraging results in the Labour party. The time is gone when men retired from the dinner table to ‘talk politics’ while their womenfolk expressed a love of kittens to one another in a constant feedback loop. And it all happened fairly quickly: there is certainly a generation alive today who sat at that dinner table.

What has survived all of this progression is the idea that no matter what sort of a career a woman pursues – whether publishing, lecturing, nursing, computer game designing, or engaging in armed combat – her maternal instinct will win out. Discussions about whether women can ‘have it all’ imply that ‘all’ for women necessarily includes children. And yet procreation is going out of fashion: the average British family has 1.7 children, statistically miles away from the oft-quoted 2.4 of years gone by.

Perhaps it’s because we’re educating women too much that they’re refusing to breed. That certainly seems to be the view of (male) researcher Satoshi Kanazawa, an analyst at the London School of Economics who ‘found’ that the maternal urge of women decreases with every 15 IQ points. Setting aside the fact that measuring intelligence is a highly sketchy art at best, and measuring ‘maternal instinct’ presumably even sketchier, the media has been quick to label Kanazawa’s findings ‘innovations’. “If any value is truly unnatural, if there is one thing that humans (and all other species in nature) are decisively not designed for, it is voluntary childlessness,” Kanazawa then writes in his book The Intelligence Paradox, brazenly throwing around the terms “unnatural” and “designed for” like so many toys out of a rare baby’s pram.

When it comes to maternity, intelligence is first in the firing line. But when it comes to paternity, we clearly have other concerns. Emory University in the US has found a definitive link between the parenting involvement of a man and the size of his testicles, according to BBC News. In a nutshell (no pun intended), the results were: small testicles, better daddy. Researcher Dr James Rilling commented: "It tells us some men are more naturally inclined to care-giving than others, but I don't think that excuses other men.” Quite.

When maternity is investigated, it is all too often extrapolated into evolutionary theory, the downfall of the species, and the potential collapse of western society. Where paternity is concerned, testicles are about as far as you get. The most telling part of Emory’s study is the disclaimer that “cultural and societal expectations on the role of the father are... not accounted for in the study.” Meanwhile, Kanazawa’s “paradox” is found in the idea that smarter women might not be doing as much as what they were “designed for”. Perhaps it’s another one of those pesky social factors. Like not wanting to.

Either way, I think I’d rather have my (huge, metaphorical) testicles measured than be told that my intelligence quotient is a problem for my ovaries.

A mother and father feed their son a burger in Brooklyn. Image: Getty
Holly Baxter is a freelance journalist who writes regularly for The Guardian and The New Statesman. She is also one half of The Vagenda and releases a book on the media in May 2014.
Getty Images.
Show Hide image

Why relations between Theresa May and Philip Hammond became tense so quickly

The political imperative of controlling immigration is clashing with the economic imperative of maintaining growth. 

There is no relationship in government more important than that between the prime minister and the chancellor. When Theresa May entered No.10, she chose Philip Hammond, a dependable technocrat and long-standing ally who she had known since Oxford University. 

But relations between the pair have proved far tenser than anticipated. On Wednesday, Hammond suggested that students could be excluded from the net migration target. "We are having conversations within government about the most appropriate way to record and address net migration," he told the Treasury select committee. The Chancellor, in common with many others, has long regarded the inclusion of students as an obstacle to growth. 

The following day Hammond was publicly rebuked by No.10. "Our position on who is included in the figures has not changed, and we are categorically not reviewing whether or not students are included," a spokesman said (as I reported in advance, May believes that the public would see this move as "a fix"). 

This is not the only clash in May's first 100 days. Hammond was aggrieved by the Prime Minister's criticisms of loose monetary policy (which forced No.10 to state that it "respects the independence of the Bank of England") and is resisting tougher controls on foreign takeovers. The Chancellor has also struck a more sceptical tone on the UK's economic prospects. "It is clear to me that the British people did not vote on June 23 to become poorer," he declared in his conference speech, a signal that national prosperity must come before control of immigration. 

May and Hammond's relationship was never going to match the remarkable bond between David Cameron and George Osborne. But should relations worsen it risks becoming closer to that beween Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling. Like Hammond, Darling entered the Treasury as a calm technocrat and an ally of the PM. But the extraordinary circumstances of the financial crisis transformed him into a far more assertive figure.

In times of turmoil, there is an inevitable clash between political and economic priorities. As prime minister, Brown resisted talk of cuts for fear of the electoral consequences. But as chancellor, Darling was more concerned with the bottom line (backing a rise in VAT). By analogy, May is focused on the political imperative of controlling immigration, while Hammond is focused on the economic imperative of maintaining growth. If their relationship is to endure far tougher times they will soon need to find a middle way. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.