Male Bonds Evolve One Way, Women's Friendships Another. Ought We Halt Efforts to Make Men Into Women?

It is healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn'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 encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero 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 many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship

However, according to researcher 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 impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

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

Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?

As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?

This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words?

This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.