Masculine Bonds Evolve Differently, Women's Relationships Another. Ought We Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women?

It is healthy to talk. That's what men are often advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? 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 often center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; 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 Value of Silent Friendship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version 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 presence of others who also value less chatter.

Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?

From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.

The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words?

This is not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words?

The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold comparable value, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.