Masculine Friendships Develop Differently, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Stop Trying to Make Men Into Women?
It is healthy to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps nobody.
Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because 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—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less talk.
Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling 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 occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?
As a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words?
This is not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold equal worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
