Masculine Bonds Develop Differently, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Cease Attempting to Turn Men Into Women?
It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return 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 handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships often center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit 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 everything up helps nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because 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 spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less chatter.
Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?
From a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?
It's not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words?
The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
