Masculine Bonds Form One Way, Female Friendships Other. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Turn Men Into Women?

It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.

Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship

Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up 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 quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.

Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave 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 also value less chatter.

Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?

From a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words?

It's not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words?

The debate continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold comparable value, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.