Masculine Bonds Develop One Way, Female Friendships Other. Should We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women?

It's good to talk. That's what men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one.

Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship

Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from 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 four-year study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk.

Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?

As a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered 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 Essential Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?

It's not everyone's ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words?

The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique effective way.