Masculine Bonds Form Differently, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Turn Men Into Women?
It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing 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 closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody.
Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship
Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from 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 observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps 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 likewise value less talk.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?
As a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words?
This is not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry comparable worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.