Masculine Connections Evolve Differently, Female Relationships Another. Should We Cease Attempting to Push Men More Like Women?
It is healthy to talk. Or so men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male habit 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 might 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 managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships often center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits 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 bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—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 ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let 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 value less chatter.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a woman's viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?
This is not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?
This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry equal worth, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
