Male Bonds Develop One Way, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?

It is good to talk. Or so men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.

Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue 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 developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.

Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.

Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return 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 surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?

From a woman's viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Essential Issue: Is Connection Need Words?

It's not everyone's ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true 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 healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold equal value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.