Masculine Bonds Evolve One Way, Women's Friendships Other. Ought We Halt Efforts to Turn Men More Like Women?
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the common 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 might 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 managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one.
Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship
Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave 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 also appreciate less talk.
Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a woman's perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, 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 obvious issue.
The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
