Masculine Connections Develop Differently, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women?
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are bemused 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 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 typically revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship
However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers 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 imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less talk.
Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?
As a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words?
It's not the ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold equal worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
