Masculine Bonds Evolve One Way, Female Friendships Another. Ought We Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women?
It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male propensity 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 might 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 revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one.
Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship
However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly 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 underrated.
This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping 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 Need Words?
It's not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold comparable worth, each meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
