Male Bonds Evolve One Way, Female Relationships Another. Should We Stop Trying to Make Men Into Women?
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is handling 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 private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one.
Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship
Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.
Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, cracked 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 verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Essential Issue: Is Connection Need Words?
This is not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words?
This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry equal worth, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
