Male Friendships Evolve One Way, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women?
It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the typical male propensity 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 could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired 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 intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can seem strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship
Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less chatter.
Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?
As a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words?
This is not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?
The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry equal value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
