Masculine Friendships Develop Differently, Female Friendships Other. Ought We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old 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 inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody.
Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can sound 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 idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words?
It's not everyone's ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold equal worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
