The first thing to say about the idea of appointing a minister for men, as suggested last week by Tory MP Nick Fletcher and taken rather seriously by many, is that it is insulting. Some people seem to have missed this, perhaps because sexism is less taboo than some other types of discrimination. So let’s make it clearer. Imagine appointing a minister for any other dominant group – a minister for white people, say, or heterosexuals, or the able-bodied. Or how about a minister for the upper classes? You could after all argue that the upper classes suffer from problems specific to their group. Psychological scars from boarding school, hunting-related spinal injuries, receding chins, emotional reticence, an over-reliance on homeopathy, persistent mockery in sketch shows, spite from leftwing columnists and more difficulty, these days, getting an entry job at the BBC. Upper-class teens, some studies show, are more vulnerable to substance abuse. Some of these problems are genetic (or hereditary), some a consequence of their idiosyncratic culture, and some a result of modern attempts to redress class inequality. So should we appoint a minister to sort these problems out? Of course not. The upper classes may be worse off in a few ways but they are better off in many others: they squat in top jobs and own more of the wealth. Helping them open up emotionally is not an unworthy aim (and might even help the rest of us), but they do not deserve special representation in parliament. After all, there are already lots of them in the cabinet. We would find it insulting. Men have problems, of course – some specific to being men, some merely because they are humans in an imperfect world – but we should emphasise that they are still on top in most important respects; they retain power, wealth and status. The pendulum has not yet swung to the middle, let alone the other way. In the UK, men now enter the workplace with lower qualifications than women but on average earn more per hour. They are three times as likely to be in full-time jobs, far less likely to be burdened with unpaid work, and they save much more into their pensions. They dominate top positions in nearly every trade and profession, and are less likely to be killed by their partners or to suffer sexual violence. As a group, women have lower social status than men – they are more likely to be slut-shamed, dismissed and talked over. A minister for men? The very idea is offensive. A second issue with a minister for men is that it is impractical. It is too blunt an instrument. You might as well appoint a minister for all social ills except female oppression. Men suffer from unique problems – but that is because as half the population they fall into all sorts of other discriminated-against categories, and gender interacts with these in complicated ways. However, the problems are not well captured by a focus on men in general, which after all includes the most privileged people in the population. There is evidence, for example, that working-class men are particularly falling behind in terms of employment. But this is not a problem for middle-class men, who are still ahead. Champions of working-class men insist they don’t want to pit them directly against working-class women. But if so, the correct name for the social ailment we are looking at is ‘“class discrimination” or, perhaps, ‘economic inequality”. Black men are discriminated against in unique ways. But pitting them against black women – who are also discriminated against, but in slightly different ways – is hardly helpful. After all, the problems black men face are best described as “racism”, not “gender discrimination” – white men are not affected. A minister for racial equality, well versed in intersectionality, would be a welcome idea. A minister for men is not. Men suffer specific mental health problems: the male suicide rate is some three times higher, potentially because men use more violent methods, and men are more likely to abuse alcohol. But women suffer specific mental health problems too: they are more likely to attempt suicide, and to be diagnosed with depression. Ethnic minorities have their own mental health profiles, as do disabled people. The most practical way to represent these distinct problems in parliament is surely through the existing minister for care and mental health. (Male suicide is already a well-recognised problem, the focus of many high-profile campaigns.) Another impracticality might be that a minister for men would sit uneasily in a cabinet that includes a minister for women and equalities – rather like appointing a minister for levelling up and a minister for levelling down. Surprisingly, though, part of what Fletcher seems to have in mind for his minister for men makes the job sound more like a minister for women in disguise. In interviews, he spoke of encouraging men into jobs such as nursing and primary school teaching, echoing the work of author Richard Reeves, who has written persuasively about the need to get men into the caring professions – and tackling the spread of misogyny influenced by figures such as Andrew Tate. This is, of course, exactly what feminists want and have campaigned for. They want men and boys to curb their misogyny. They want men to make room in “male” professions, which might mean men filling the gaps in traditionally “female” ones. They want men to adapt themselves to a more equal world. If this is really the aim of a minister for men, his duties belong within the larger women and equalities brief, not in a separate role. Changing male behaviour is the other half of the feminist battle; it is not a bad idea to give it more focus. But let’s not call it minister for men. Martha Gill is an Observer columnist