Masculine Connections Develop Differently, Women's Friendships Other. Ought We Cease Attempting to Turn Men Into Women?
It is healthy to talk. Or so men are often told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male habit to spend 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 might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one.
Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed 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 hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less chatter.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, discontent, or pride for hours.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?
This is not everyone's ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold equal worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
