Masculine Bonds Develop Differently, Women's Friendships Another. Ought We Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women?

It's healthy to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the typical male habit 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 while? 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 intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody.

Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship

Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths 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 bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less talk.

Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?

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

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered 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 obvious issue.

The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words?

This is not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words?

This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry comparable value, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.