Masculine Connections Evolve Differently, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Cease Attempting to Make Men Into Women?
It's healthy 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 bemused by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can look oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one.
Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can sound 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 ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less talk.
Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?
It's not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words?
This discussion continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold equal value, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
