Male Friendships Form Differently, Women's Friendships Other. Ought We Cease Attempting to Push Men Into Women?
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with 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 form of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly 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 classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk.
Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly 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 Essential Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words?
The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
