Male Bonds Develop Differently, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Halt Efforts to Turn Men More Like Women?
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are often told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male tendency to spend 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? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody.
Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet 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 bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk.
Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. 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 verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words?
The debate continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold comparable value, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
