Male Bonds Form One Way, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Stop Trying to Make Men Into Women?
It's good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events 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 managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view 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 northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging 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 significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less chatter.
Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a woman's viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, discontent, or pride for hours.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern 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 ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words?
The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.
