Masculine Connections Form One Way, Female Friendships Other. Should We Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?

It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships often center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one.

Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less chatter.

Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?

As a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.

The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words?

This is not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words?

The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold comparable value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.