Male Bonds Develop One Way, Female Friendships Other. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women?

It is good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven'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 typically center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one.

Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship

However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits 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 struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

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

Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging 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 value. 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 presence of others who also value less talk.

Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?

As a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, 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. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, discontent, or pride for hours.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?

This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words?

This discussion continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry comparable value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.