Masculine Bonds Develop One Way, Women's Relationships Other. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Turn Men Into Women?

It's good to talk. Or so men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male propensity to spend 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 time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody.

Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship

However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

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

Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter.

Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?

From a woman's viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.

What is notable 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 affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?

This is not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words?

The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.