Masculine Connections Develop One Way, Female Friendships Other. Should We Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women?
It is good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male tendency 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 could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps nobody.
Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your ideal idea 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 pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less chatter.
Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
As a woman's perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words?
The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
