Male Bonds Form One Way, Female Friendships Other. Ought We Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?
It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male tendency 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 inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no 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 countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship
Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less talk.
Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently 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 personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better 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 happily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words?
This is not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words?
The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry comparable worth, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
