Male Bonds Evolve One Way, Female Friendships Other. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Turn Men Into Women?

It is good to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? 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 often revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship

However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

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

Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less talk.

Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?

As a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words?

This is not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words?

The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry comparable value, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.