Masculine Connections Develop One Way, Women's Friendships Other. Ought We Halt Efforts to Turn Men More Like Women?
It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn'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 understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can look oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one.
Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing 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 underappreciated.
This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?
As a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?
It's not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?
This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.
