Masculine Friendships Evolve Differently, Female Friendships Other. Should We Stop Trying to Turn Men Into Women?
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing 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—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one.
Rethinking the Value of Quiet Friendship
However, according to 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 struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year 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 built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable 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 play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less talk.
Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?
As a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Question: 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 low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold comparable worth, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
