What Problems Does Marriage Solve?

 

Fifty thousand years in the past, our ancestors had already mastered the use of fire and created stone tools. However, a significant concern lingered over every successful hunt: the question of paternity. From the perspective of evolutionary psychology, a man is likely to invest time and resources in his offspring only if he believes they share his genetic heritage. For women, having a committed partner provided essential protection from predators and competing males during the vulnerable periods of pregnancy and nursing. A public, enduring mating partnership—what we might refer to as proto-marriage—addressed the needs of both sexes. By signaling exclusivity, it diminished the chances of infanticide by outsiders and increased the likelihood of ongoing support from the male for both the mother and child.

Stone-Age Problems

Paternal certainty: Human males boast relatively large testes for their size compared to other primates, indicating that ancestral females may have engaged with multiple mates. In such scenarios, a socially acknowledged pair bond mitigated the risk of inadvertently nurturing another man's offspring, thereby making long-term commitment a more logical choice.

Security for females and infants: In the primate world, the emergence of a new dominant male often results in the deaths of nursing infants. A committed father who stays close to the mother serves as a buffer against this aggression, a phenomenon referred to as the “bodyguard hypothesis.”

Nutritional considerations: Pregnancy and the demands of early childcare limit a woman’s ability to move freely; therefore, a male adept in hunting can provide essential, calorie-dense food. Marriage institutionalized a mutual exchange: resources in return for dependable sexual access and collaborative parenting.

Collectively, these elements imply that the first forms of marriage were strategically advantageous responses to three interconnected challenges: the uncertainty of paternity, the risk of infant mortality due to violence, and the potential for maternal malnutrition.

Agriculture, Property, and the Rise of Formal Marriage

The Neolithic Revolution ushered in an era characterized by stored grains, livestock, and land—assets that could be passed down through generations. This shift made the question of inheritance, “Who will own the land after my death?” just as critical as the question of paternity, “Who is the father of this child?” Ancient Mesopotamian clay tablets, dating back to around 2300 BCE, provide insight into bride-price agreements, while Egyptian legal documents linked dowries to property rights. Additionally, early Chinese legal codes outlined inheritance distributions among the sons of wives. Public wedding ceremonies served a vital role akin to a record-keeping system: they chronicled responsibilities, highlighted family lineage, and helped prevent future disagreements.

Concurrently, societies that promoted socially enforced monogamy beyond the upper class often witnessed reduced rates of male-on-male violence. When most men could anticipate having one wife rather than a small number of men controlling the relationships with multiple partners, the motivation to compete violently for partners decreased. From an evolutionary perspective, marriage emerged as a multifaceted institution—regulating reproduction, distributing resources, and mitigating deadly competition.

Biblical and Church Contributions to Marriage

Hebrew Tradition: In Hebrew scripture, marriage is portrayed as a covenant that joins not just two individuals, but also their respective families. Customs like the bride-price (mohar) and levirate marriage—where a man weds his deceased brother’s widow—were designed to preserve both property and lineage. While polygyny was permitted for patriarchs and sovereigns, most ordinary families leaned toward monogamy, as managing multiple wives required resources that were beyond the reach of many men.

Early Christian Innovations: By the fourth century CE, as Christianity expanded throughout the late Roman Empire, church leaders began to modify existing Greco-Roman marriage customs. They emphasized that the consent of both individuals, rather than solely the agreement of their families, was essential for a valid marriage. Additionally, they advocated for lifelong monogamy and implemented restrictions on divorce, presenting marriage as a sacred institution that reflected the union between Christ and the Church. The medieval Church further prohibited marriages within seven degrees of kinship, a regulation that effectively encouraged the creation of broader alliance networks and redirected inheritances toward the nuclear family.

Evolutionary Implications: These Christian reforms profoundly transformed the marriage market. Monogamy curtailed the exclusive access of elite men to women, thereby increasing the likelihood that average men would marry and invest in their children. This change, according to some demographic historians, contributed to greater social stability and ultimately played a role in fostering economic growth in Europe.

Historical Note: On The Church’s Strategic Move

It’s important to recognize that the early Church’s takeover of marriage was not just a theological adjustment—it was a strategic disruption of power.

In traditional societies, powerful families controlled marriage, and by extension, they controlled wealth, land, and reproduction. Average men without strong family backing often had little or no chance of securing a good marriage.

By redefining marriage as a sacrament between individuals and God—rather than a clan negotiation—the Church broke the monopoly of elite families over the sexual marketplace.

This move opened marriage up to ordinary believers, leveling the field and tying more people’s loyalties to the Church instead of to their bloodlines.

It worked—but at a cost...

Over time, marriage drifted away from being a practical alliance for survival and community continuity, becoming instead a deeply personal emotional venture.

That emotional fragility is still haunting the institution today

Critical Reflection: Modern Churches—Family for Who?

While the early Church’s intervention into marriage once served as a shield for the powerless, the modern church landscape tells a very different story.

Today, many churches brand themselves as "family churches," promising to become spiritual homes for individuals lacking strong blood ties.

However, these institutions are overwhelmingly feminized.

The sermons and pastoral leadership often prioritize emotional comfort, forgiveness, and communal harmony—all classic expressions of the feminine imperative.

In this environment, men are not protected. They are morally manipulated.

They are encouraged to:

• Tolerate disrespect for the sake of "peace."
• Serve others endlessly without reciprocal honor.
• Forgive betrayal and rebellion against their authority in the name of "love."
• Lead families without any real power to enforce discipline or boundaries.

In essence, the modern church no longer acts as a patriarchal family structure that uplifts and stabilizes men.

It acts as an emotional resource center for women—with men expected to sacrifice themselves in silence, sanctified by appeals to righteousness.

What began as an institution meant to liberate ordinary men from the tyranny of aristocratic families has, in many ways, become a new agent of gynocentrism—baptizing male disposability in religious language.

Lobola and Bogadi: From Sacred Exchange to Social Hustle

Before colonial law and Western marriage contracts came to dominate, African societies had their own systems for formalising unions. Among the Nguni-speaking peoples—especially the Zulu—and also among the Sotho-Tswana, bridewealth systems like lobola (Nguni) and bogadi (Sotho-Tswana) were how people married. And these weren’t just about handing over cows or cash—they were full-blown social technologies, designed to solve reproductive, social, and economic problems in a context without state-backed paperwork.

At its core, lobola or bogadi wasn't payment for a bride—it was a public declaration of union between families, a recognition of shared lineage, and an insurance policy for the children to come. It ensured that a woman's fertility would be protected, and that any children born from the union would be acknowledged by both her family and her husband's. It also created a social safety net: if the husband died, the wife's kin could intervene; if she was mistreated, they could negotiate her return or claim compensation.

In these traditional setups, marriage wasn't between two individuals—it was between two houses. Everyone had skin in the game, which meant accountability was high and desertion low. In this sense, lobola and bogadi were elegant African solutions to the primal problem: how do you regulate sex, children, and resources in a tribal economy without courts or contracts?

Fast forward to now…

Today, those same systems still exist—but they've lost much of their original function. The social logic of lobola has collapsed, and in many cases, it’s become an economic hustle. What started as kinship-building has become a transactional toll gate, often imposed on young men who can barely afford rent.

Families now inflate the bride price—R50,000, R80,000, or more—because marriage has become less about shared responsibility and more about what do we get out of this? A young man’s character or stability no longer matters as much as his bank statement. A young woman is sometimes pressured to avoid cohabitation so her family doesn’t “lose out” on lobola income. It's not about partnership anymore—it's about leverage.

Even worse, the original social contract tied to lobola—mutual obligation and community mediation—has eroded. In many cases, the man pays the lobola, and if the marriage goes south, he has no way to reclaim it. Traditionally, if the wife left due to misconduct on her part, her family had to return part of the cattle or money. Today, many families refuse, citing "emotional damages" or simply ghosting the guy. The whole thing’s a mess.

So where are we now?

Now, instead of lobola solving problems, it often creates new ones—delayed unions, broken relationships, debt traps, and cultural stand-offs between modern couples and traditional elders. While it once secured paternity, kinship, and economic cooperation, now it’s just another gatekeeping device in a society already strained by unemployment and urban alienation.

And just to be clear: both Sotho and Tswana people had their own equivalent in bogadi—it wasn’t a uniquely Zulu or Nguni thing. All these systems arose independently across Africa to meet the same need: regulate reproduction and resources with social accountability. But they’re no longer functioning like that.

So yes, lobola and bogadi once made sense. They were homegrown African answers to the same questions every culture asks: who are you sleeping with, who’s raising the baby, and who’s paying for it? But in 2025, that sacred logic has been corrupted. And with rising costs and eroded family ties, the average young man would rather kipita (cohabit) than negotiate a cattle invoice he may never see returned.

When the West Arrived: Marriage, Law, and the Great Displacement

Before the colonisers came knocking with their judges and priests, African marital systems had their own internal logic. As we’ve seen, lobola and bogadi were rooted in extended kinship and mutual accountability. But the Western model of marriage—fused with Roman-Dutch legalism, English Christian morality, and later apartheid enforcement—hijacked the institution and distorted its original purpose.

Roman-Dutch & English Overlay: Two Bad Parents, One Dysfunctional Inheritance

The foundation of marriage law in South Africa was laid by Roman-Dutch jurisprudence, a system built on private property, male dominance, and strict legal formalities. English law layered over this with its own imports: coverture, Christian monogamy, and moral policing. Together, they created a framework where:

• Women had no legal identity in marriage Under coverture, a married woman’s legal rights were suspended and merged with her husband’s. She couldn’t own property, sign contracts, or sue in court.
• Marriage was a moral checkpoint, not a relational agreement. The focus wasn’t love or kinship—it was chastity, inheritance, and legitimacy. Any union outside the church’s blessing was treated as illicit.
• Customary marriage was treated as inferior. African practices were seen as “uncivilised,” valid only if they resembled European norms.

So what did this mean for Black people under colonial and apartheid law? Disaster.

Segregation and Apartheid: Marriage by Force and Division

During segregation (1910–1948) and apartheid (1948–1994), Black South Africans were subjected to a dual system. Customary marriages were not fully recognised unless they were “registered” or converted into civil marriages—undermining the authority of traditional leaders and family structures. Meanwhile, state interference increased:

• Mixed marriages were banned under the Prohibition of Mixed Marriages Act (1949), enforcing racial purity laws.
• Urban Black men were separated from their families, due to migrant labour systems. Many lived in male-only hostels while wives and children were confined to homelands.
• Women were doubly displaced—first by traditional patriarchy, then by colonial patriarchy. In fact, customary law as written by the state was often more patriarchal than its oral, negotiated roots.
  

Yes—Black women were disadvantaged. But that disadvantage was systemic, and neither Black men nor traditional culture created the system. Black men were also trapped—forced to choose between state-recognised marriage (which made them legally liable but not empowered) and customary systems (which the state disrespected). The real enemy? The colonial and apartheid legal machine.

Post-1994: Rights, Recognition…and Chaos?

With democracy came legal reform:

• The Recognition of Customary Marriages Act (1998) finally gave legal standing to lobola-based marriages—if properly registered.
• Gender equality was enshrined in the Constitution.
• Civil unions were opened to all couples, including same-sex partners.

But instead of solving problems, the law often just moved the goalposts.

Today, South African marriage law is a patchwork of overlapping systems—civil, customary, religious, and informal. A man might pay lobola but not register the marriage, leaving his wife with no inheritance rights. A woman might think she's married, only to find the state doesn't agree. And if they split? Cue a legal drama of contested status, spousal maintenance battles, and custody showdowns.

Add to this a growing feminist-leaning legal culture, a state that increasingly supports women’s claims, and no equivalent institutional support for men, and you have a new imbalance:

• Women now have clear legal pathways to redress: maintenance courts, protection orders, divorce settlements.
• Men face legal exposure without equivalent protection, especially in relationships where their status is informal or unrecognised.
  

The Problem-Solving Synthesis…Broken

Once upon a time, marriage—whether customary or civil—was a way to solve key problems: sexual access, child legitimacy, kinship ties, and economic partnership. Today, marriage in South Africa is a fragmented institution that solves fewer problems than it creates—especially for men.

The Western framework that replaced African marital systems didn’t build on their strengths. It displaced them, deformed them, and left behind a legal Frankenstein stitched together by Roman-Dutch theory, Christian morality, colonial enforcement, and post-apartheid rights discourse.

And this is how we end up in 2025 with a generation that would rather cohabit than commit, negotiate intimacy privately rather than through courts or cows, and walk away from marriage—not because they hate it, but because it no longer works.

Why Marriage Doesn’t Work (for Men) in 2025

Let’s be blunt: marriage has stopped solving male problems.

Historically, men got married to secure paternity, gain social legitimacy, form alliances, and have sanctioned access to sex and children within a stable unit. In 2025? Those incentives are gone—or worse, turned into liabilities.

1. Sex? Already Dealt With.

In a world where cohabitation (ukukipita) is common, where dating apps have commodified sex, and where cultural norms no longer demand chastity until marriage, men don’t need marriage for sexual access. Sex has become de-institutionalised—cheap, available, and often divorced from commitment.

Marriage doesn’t give him more access. If anything, it introduces sexual scarcity via gatekeeping dynamics, pregnancy pressure, or transactionalism.

2. Paternity? Still Not Guaranteed.

Legal marriage no longer guarantees that a man will be the recognized, respected, or even biological father of his children. Between paternity fraud, custody bias, and fatherlessness engineered through court systems, men are realizing: signing the marriage certificate is not the same as securing your legacy.

Even worse? The child support system kicks in the moment the relationship breaks down, even if the father has minimal access or control. Fatherhood is now a debt arrangement, not a protected role.

3. Legacy? Undermined.

Traditional men marry to build legacy. But modern marriage often ends in divorce—and 69% of divorces are initiated by women in South Africa (and similar rates globally). Post-divorce, men often lose homes, children, and dignity while still being legally and financially entangled for years.

The very institution meant to protect a man’s name and bloodline now exposes him to legal, emotional, and financial collapse.

4. Companionship? Optional.

In an era of podcasts, gyms, therapy, and male support circles, many men are building independent emotional ecosystems. Loneliness exists, sure—but men now have other ways to find purpose, joy, and brotherhood without tying themselves to a high-risk legal contract.

5. Social Value? Gone.

Society no longer respects the married man. He’s not seen as a pillar—he’s seen as soft, submissive, "controlled" by his wife. The old badge of honor has become a meme.

Men in urban and peri-urban South Africa increasingly see marriage as a net loss. It brings no cultural prestige, no guaranteed sexual access, no lasting control over family, and no legal safety. And since many women are now empowered by feminist narratives, state institutions, and moral high ground, marriage becomes a battlefield—not a partnership.

6. State Interference? High.

The state has positioned itself as the woman's backup husband. If she leaves, the law backs her. If there’s conflict, the system presumes she’s the victim. Maintenance courts, protection orders, custody battles—they all lean female.

And yet, the same state offers men no proactive benefits for being married—only obligations. You’re the provider, the protector, the one who loses if she decides she’s “no longer happy.” Why enter that arena?

So let’s recap: men in 2025 don’t need marriage for sex, can’t count on it for paternity, get no social reward, face legal vulnerability, and are constantly blamed for its collapse. Meanwhile, women still gain protection, legal recourse, and social sympathy—especially if the marriage fails.

In this environment, it’s no wonder men are walking away. Not because they fear commitment, but because marriage no longer functions as a commitment built on mutual responsibility. It’s now a one-sided contract—a liability dressed up as love.

And that’s why men are turning to other options—including ukukipita.

What Problems Does Ukukipita Solve?

The modern cohabitation trend—ukukipita—is often dismissed as reckless, unserious, or anti-cultural. But beneath the criticism lies something deeper: a quiet revolution. Because if you pay close attention, you’ll see that ukukipita is not an accident or a symptom of moral decay—it’s an adaptive strategy. It is men and women responding to the death of marriage’s utility by inventing new forms of relational living.

Unlike formal marriage, ukukipita offers a low-risk, flexible, and real-time tested model of partnership. No contracts. No middlemen. No cattle negotiations. It’s direct, private, and negotiated between individuals—without the weight of in-laws, state interference, or religious pressure. In a world where institutions are failing, people are reverting to direct arrangement.

It solves several problems:

1. Testing Compatibility

Ukukipita gives couples the space to observe each other without the legal and financial entrapments of marriage. They get to see how they live together, manage conflict, handle money, and build routines. It’s a live simulation before any major investment is made.

2. Financial Relief

With lobola inflated and weddings becoming luxury events, ukukipita bypasses the cultural and economic gatekeeping. Couples don’t need to go into debt to be together. They focus on building a life before formalities drain their resources.

3. Autonomy and Consent

Unlike marriage—where expectations are often imposed by law, family, or church—ukukipita is mutual. It is, by its nature, a consensual arrangement that can be modified or exited without legal warfare. That autonomy is precisely what makes it feel more honest than marriage.

4. Protection Against Institutional Risk

In a society where men bear the brunt of legal penalties post-breakup, ukukipita allows them to love and build without setting themselves up for legal defeat. There’s no divorce court if there’s no marriage contract. There’s no spousal maintenance if there’s no spouse. If the relationship breaks down, both parties walk away with what they brought in—no litigation, no drama.

5. Psychological Honesty

Ukukipita reflects where the culture really is. It’s not traditional, but it’s truthful. It doesn't fake permanence, it doesn’t dress dysfunction up in white dresses and rings. It is fluid, but it is real. In many cases, it has become a better predictor of lasting commitment than marriage itself.

And let’s be clear: this is not just a youth thing or an urban trend. Across South Africa, the statistics already show that more couples are cohabiting than marrying—especially in Black communities. And in many of these households, there are children, shared finances, emotional bonds, and community involvement. It’s not legal—but it’s lived. It’s not registered—but it’s real.

Is ukukipita perfect? No. But neither is marriage. What makes it powerful is that it emerged organically—from below, not from pulpits or parliaments. It’s people saying: "If the formal institution no longer serves us, we will make our own."

That’s what happens when reality overtakes tradition.

And in a country where marriage has stopped solving problems, ukukipita has quietly started solving them again.

Ukukipita and Child Safety: Debunking the Myths

Critics often claim that ukukipita exposes children to greater instability than formal marriage, but the evidence behind this worry is thinner—and more nuanced—than popular rhetoric suggests.

Why the “unstable-for-kids” claim misfires:

1. Modern legal backstops work regardless of marital status.

South Africa’s Maintenance Act (1998, amended 2020) empowers courts to compel child support from non-resident parents, married or not. DNA testing makes paternity disputes straightforward. In practice, children born to cohabiting couples are no less entitled to financial support than those born inside marriage.

2. Registered birth = full legal legitimacy.

A child’s right to a surname, nationality, and inheritance through intestate succession now depends on being recorded at Home Affairs, not on the parents’ wedding certificate. Since 2016, over 90 % of live births are registered within a year—most list the father’s details even when the parents are unmarried.

3. Family courts favour the “best-interests” standard.

Whether parents are married, cohabiting, or separated, the Children’s Act (2005) obliges judges to prioritise continuity of care, emotional bonds, and material stability. Marriage does not grant automatic custody advantages.

4. Empirical findings are mixed once you control for socio-economic status.

International studies show slightly better average outcomes for children in married households, but much of the difference disappears after adjusting for parental income, education, and conflict levels. South African data are scarce, yet preliminary work by the HSRC (2023) indicates that household income and parental engagement—not marital status—are the strongest predictors of school attendance and emotional well-being.

5. Kin networks remain active.

In many cohabiting arrangements, extended family still plays a role: grandparents provide childcare, uncles enforce maintenance, and aunts mediate disputes. Traditional support systems have not vanished simply because the couple skipped lobola.

The real safety variables…

Parental cooperation: Stable co-parenting—married or not—correlates with better outcomes.

Economic resources: Reliable income and social grants matter more than a wedding licence.

Low conflict: Children fare worst in high‑conflict marriages; separating or cohabiting peacefully often beats staying together acrimoniously.

Bottom line

Calling ukukipita intrinsically “unsafe” for children confuses correlation with causation. Marriage can offer a beneficial structure, but in 2025 South Africa its protective functions—financial support, legal legitimacy, and community oversight—have largely been replicated by courts, labs, and kin. What truly safeguards kids is not the presence of rings or cattle‑receipts, but attentive, cooperative parenting backed by sufficient resources. If those elements are in place, a child raised in a stable cohabiting household is no more at risk than one whose parents walked down the aisle.

Strategic Cohabitation and Relationship Design

While I generally don't consider myself someone who dispenses advice, if someone were seeking a guide on cohabitation, there are several key factors to keep in mind and contemplate:

No Dependency — Ever

The legal threat only arises when a woman can claim dependency. If she never depends on you financially, she has no legal basis for "duty of support."

Practical Application:

• She must work.
• She must have her own income.
• No "housewife" arrangements unless she’s legally contracted not to claim dependency later (very tricky).

No giving her free access to your accounts, investments, or assets.

You have to treat your relationship like two independent adults living parallel lives, not merging fully.

No Long-Term Cohabitation Without Protection

Under South African law and various Western legal systems, the duration of cohabitation can significantly strengthen a woman's position in claiming a relationship comparable to marriage. Typically, living together for two years or more can lead to significant legal implications.

Practical Application:

• Limit cohabitation to short periods if possible.
• Or have a cohabitation agreement drafted — basically a prenup for living together. (Yes, lawyers exist who specialize in this.)

The agreement must say:

• No duty of support,
• No shared property unless specified,
• No financial merging.

 Without this, even if you never marry, you can get cooked.

3. No Children Without Commitment

Children multiply the legal risks x1000.
The more kids you have, the easier it is for her to argue you were a "family unit" and therefore owed a duty of support.

Practical Application:

• No kids unless you’re ready to enter a legally bulletproof situation.
• Even if you raise kids together informally, the courts will treat you as a "family" unit.

4. Strategic Mindset: Relationships, not Institutions

The safest mindset today is:

A relationship is personal, but never allow the State into your personal life.

That means:

• No legal merging.
• No contracts that can be twisted.
• No vulnerabilities based on emotional pressure.

You are free only to the degree that your relationship remains private, independent, and voluntary.

Conclusion:

While ukukipita (cohabitation) is still far more viable than marriage, the key is not the form—it’s the structure.

Men must stop defaulting to traditional cohabitation models where emotional inertia, financial merging, and legal gray areas set traps.

Instead, relationships must be organized intentionally:

Separate Living Spaces: A man should have his own home; a woman should have hers.

Cohabitation, if it occurs, should be temporary and limited—no more than two weeks at a time—to preserve emotional polarity and maintain the spark of desire.

No Permanent Dependency: Visits should remain voluntary, maintaining individual financial independence at all times.

Children, If Any, Co-Parented with Clarity: Children stay primarily with one parent, with shared custody based on agreements, not court battles. 

No forced financial dependency—just direct, practical parenting.

This approach respects human emotional psychology in 2025:
In a world no longer plagued by physical survival threats, men and women thrive best with space, autonomy, and intention—not through forced cohabitation driven by outdated survival instincts.

Love freely. Commit wisely. Protect yourself ruthlessly.

-Mohau Darlington