Male Connections Develop One Way, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Should We Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women?

It is good to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one.

Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

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

Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. 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 presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk.

Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?

As a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring 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 preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words?

The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.