Male Connections Develop Differently, Female Friendships Other. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women?

It's healthy to talk. Or so men are repeatedly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one.

Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship

Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men raised 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 underappreciated.

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

Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly 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 ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.

Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?

As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?

It's not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?

This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold equal worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.