Male Bonds Develop One Way, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Halt Efforts to Turn Men Into Women?
It is good to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the common male propensity to pass 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 could 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 personal friendships often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one.
Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship
Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter.
Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?
As a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, disappointment, 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 communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, 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, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?
This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
