Masculine Bonds Form Differently, Female Friendships Another. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Make Men Into Women?

It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male propensity to spend 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 could they possibly be doing, all that time? 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 personal friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently 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 widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody.

Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter.

Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?

As a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack 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 incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?

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

The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship carry equal value, each meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.