Masculine Connections Form One Way, Female Friendships Another. Ought We Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women?

It is healthy to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight 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 handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one.

Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent 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 forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less talk.

Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?

From a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words?

It's not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?

This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.