Masculine Bonds Evolve One Way, Women's Friendships Another. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women?
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter.
Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
