he issue of violence against women and girls is being widely discussed following the death of Sarah Everard: women are expressing exhaustion at feeling afraid, and anger and frustration at the same old conversations and being told to change their behaviour. Yet while it is men who perpetrate most of the violence, many have generally maintained a public silence. This does not mean that men are not saddened and repulsed by sexual and domestic violence. A minority have expressed their disgust about misogyny on social media, or shown support for the women close to them, but this is alongside those whose reaction is defensive, insisting #NotAllMen are violent or are dismissive or hostile, claiming that men are being demonised. All men, whether we like it or not, have become symbols of danger to women. This is not the same as saying that all men are potential rapists, murderers or abusers. It means rather that individual men’s violence keeps all women in a state of fear and self-monitoring because women can never be sure that it will not be this man who will stalk, rape, attack or attempt murder. Women are rendered cautious and subordinated by patriarchy, which gives men the social power and legitimacy to make the rules and to police them. The patriarchy ties violence and gender relations firmly to issues of power, and it is crucial to the struggle for solutions that we see this larger picture. Men gain a dividend from patriarchy in terms of honour, prestige, the right to command, as well as a material dividend. The global average of women’s income is about half of what men are paid, while just 11.9% of the world’s 2,825 billionaires are women. As RW Connell, a leading sociologist of masculinity, has argued, given these inequalities, violence is inherent to a gender order which constitutes men as an interest group concerned with defence, and women as an interest group concerned with change. The radical feminist Andrea Dworkin once suggested that a productive step towards eliminating violence against women would be for men to declare a 24-hour ceasefire. It isn’t nearly long enough, but like those recent calls for a curfew on men it would make women feel safer and could force men to think critically about themselves and how it is men not women who need to change their behaviour. However, men overwhelmingly avoid talking about men’s violence, never mind really taking on the issue. There is something in the shared unspoken bonds that unite men that leads us to stay silent and not challenge one another. That “something” is what Connell terms the “patriarchal dividend” – the advantages men in general gain from the overall subordination of women. Reproducing masculinity means repudiating supposedly feminine characteristics such as talking openly about feelings, crying, relationships, vulnerability and providing care. Boys and men learn that maintaining control and silence about their internal lives, and as a result their gender, is crucial to acceptance (and not being humiliated or beaten up) by other men. Masculine ideals differ from culture to culture, but in a British context it’s more often than not framed as heterosexual, white, strong, rational and self-contained. Indeed, some men do badly out of patriarchy because it not only gives men collective power over women, but over some groups of men, such as gay men who suffer homophobic violence, black and ethnic minority men who experience racist violence and men living in poverty. Although a majority of men are not criminally violent, research and intervention work with those who are, such as domestic abusers, shows that they feel justified by misogyny and an ideology of dominance over women. If we were to carry out a ceasefire among men, as Dworkin suggested, it would have to include not just stopping all acts of violence, but challenging the attitudes and the sense of entitlement at large that play into the decisions some individual men take to abuse women. This means men have to visibly move beyond a complicity with the patriarchal project to speak out and act, demonstrating that we are taking the issue of women’s safety very seriously by, for instance, not walking close to women, challenging men when they make sexist comments and harass women – in person or online. The White Ribbon organisation is a good example of a men’s campaign that is working to do this. It asks men to promise “never to commit, excuse or remain silent about male violence against women”, and it takes its public education work into schools and other organisations and workplaces. This kind of public education work is not about demonising boys and men, but engaging them in a process where they are able to learn how to listen and think and talk about gender, relationships and power, that recognises their fears and their capacity to love and care, and helps them to channel it and be accountable in ways that can help keep women safe. The benefits of men struggling collectively to break the silence, reject the patriarchal dividend, and promote justice and true personal safety are potentially great, not only for women and children, but for men too, advancing the conditions for safe, trustworthy and loving gender relationships. But first the ceasefire among men must be announced and peace talks allowed to begin. Harry Ferguson is professor of social work at the University of Birmingham