Masculine Connections Form One Way, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Halt Efforts to Push Men Into Women?
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are often advised, 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 decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could 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 own friendships typically center on an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less talk.
Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?
As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible 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 better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Is Connection Require Words?
This is 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 fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be put into words?
This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold comparable value, each meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
