Masculine Bonds Form Differently, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?
It's good to talk. That's what men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can seem strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody.
Rethinking the Value of Silent Companionship
However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk.
Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?
From a woman's viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Essential Issue: Is Connection Require Words?
It's not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?
The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry comparable value, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
