Male Friendships Form One Way, Women's Relationships Other. Ought We Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like Women?
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are often advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk.
Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
