Male Bonds Evolve One Way, Female Relationships Another. Should We Halt Efforts to Turn Men More Like Women?

It's healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; 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, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody.

Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship

Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

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

Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave 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.

Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?

As a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words?

This is not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?

The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.