Male Bonds Evolve Differently, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Halt Efforts to Turn Men More Like Women?

It's good to talk. That's what men are often advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male tendency 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 might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one.

Rethinking the Value of Silent Companionship

However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

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

Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: 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 classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.

Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?

From a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?

This is not the preferred method 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 the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words?

This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.