Male Friendships Develop One Way, Women's Relationships Another. Ought We Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women?
It's healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit 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 while? How come they didn'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 center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, we 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 repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one.
Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship
Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on 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 suggests.
Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less chatter.
Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?
As a woman's viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words?
It's not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words?
The debate continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
