Masculine Friendships Evolve Differently, Female Relationships Another. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Make Men Into Women?
It's healthy to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? 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 typically revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that 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 activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less chatter.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. 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 incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words?
The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold equal worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
