Masculine Bonds Form Differently, Female Friendships Other. Ought We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women?
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship
However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers 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 ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk.
Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words?
The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry comparable value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
