Male Bonds Develop Differently, Female Friendships Another. Should We Halt Efforts to Turn Men More Like Women?

It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male habit to spend 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 personal friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one.

Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.

Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.

Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?

As a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror 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 observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words?

This is not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words?

The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.