Male Friendships Form Differently, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women?

It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male tendency to pass 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 might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can look oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody.

Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship

However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

This muted 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 idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk.

Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?

As a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?

It's not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words?

The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.