Male Bonds Form Differently, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?
It is good to talk. Or so men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling 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 knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can seem strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody.
Rethinking the Value of Silent Companionship
Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, 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 clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk.
Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?
As a woman's viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests 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 lack of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
This is not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words?
This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold comparable value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.