Masculine Friendships Form One Way, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Halt Efforts to Make Men Into Women?
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships often center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.
Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship
However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—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 ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.
Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?
As a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words?
It's not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry comparable value, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
