Masculine Friendships Develop Differently, Women's Friendships Other. Ought We Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women?
It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might 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 managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we 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 seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship
However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective 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 mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less chatter.
Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Is Connection 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 low mood—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry comparable value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
