Male Connections Develop One Way, Women's Friendships Other. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women?
It is good to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one.
Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at 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 four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly 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 quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also value less chatter.
Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
As a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?
This is not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold equal worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.