Male Bonds Develop One Way, Female Friendships Another. Ought We Halt Efforts to Make Men Into Women?
It's healthy to talk. Or so men are often advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired 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 knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship
Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less chatter.
Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of overt 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 more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words?
This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold equal value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
