Male Bonds Form One Way, Female Friendships Other. Should We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women?

It is good to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male habit 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 could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and sad. 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 hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.

Rethinking the Value of Silent Companionship

However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

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

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

Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?

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

Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring 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 everyone's ideal method of connecting, 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 difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?

This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold equal worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.