Masculine Bonds Evolve One Way, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women?
It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could 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 managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody.
Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside 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 imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise value less talk.
Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely 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 viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
This is not everyone's ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
