Masculine Bonds Evolve One Way, Female Friendships Another. Should We Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women?
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? 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 personal friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one.
Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits 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 impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy 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 built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," 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 point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. 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 presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.
Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?
As a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Essential Issue: Is Connection Require Words?
It's not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold comparable value, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
