Male Bonds Evolve One Way, Female Relationships Another. Should We Cease Attempting to Turn Men Into Women?
It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight 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 personal friendships often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one.
Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship
However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits 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 struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, 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 seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.
Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all 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.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words?
It's not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words?
The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold equal value, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
