Masculine Bonds Evolve One Way, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Should We Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women?
It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home 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 own friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter 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 outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one.
Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because 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 vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.
Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed 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 records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?
This is not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?
This discussion continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry comparable worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.
