Masculine Bonds Develop Differently, Female Friendships Other. Ought We Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women?
It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship
However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these mostly 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 activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave 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 appreciate less talk.
Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?
As a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club 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 still managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?
This is not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone 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 acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold comparable value, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
