Masculine Bonds Develop Differently, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Cease Attempting to Push Men Into Women?
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male propensity 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 while? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and silent 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 developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—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 preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?
As a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?
This is not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.