Male Connections Evolve Differently, Women's Friendships Another. Ought We Halt Efforts to Make Men Into Women?
It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male propensity to spend 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? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps nobody.
Rethinking the Value of Silent Companionship
However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong 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 mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, 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 oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly 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 mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less chatter.
Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt 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 incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways 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. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words?
This is not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry comparable value, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
