Male Bonds Evolve One Way, Women's Friendships Another. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Push Men More Like Women?
It is healthy to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless 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 own friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one.
Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk.
Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?
From a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Essential Question: Is Connection Require Words?
It's not the ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold comparable value, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
