Male Connections Develop One Way, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are often told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain 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 significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed 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 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, appear chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship
Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers 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 mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also value less chatter.
Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?
As a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words?
This is not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words?
The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry comparable value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
