Male Bonds Develop Differently, Women's Friendships Another. Ought We Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like Women?
It is healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody.
Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship
Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth 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 suggests.
Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging 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 imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less chatter.
Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?
As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words?
This is not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
