Male Bonds Form One Way, Female Friendships Another. Ought We Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?
It's healthy to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship
Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk.
Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team 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 horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally 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 verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words?
It's not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry equal value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.