Male Bonds Form Differently, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women?

It's healthy to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody.

Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern 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, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

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

Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less talk.

Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?

As a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered 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 verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words?

This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to be present in life's challenges 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 carry equal worth, each meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.