Masculine Friendships Evolve One Way, Women's Friendships Another. Should We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?
It is healthy to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked 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 private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear oddly empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one.
Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship
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 closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter.
Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words?
This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
