Male Bonds Form One Way, Women's Friendships Other. Ought We Halt Efforts to Turn Men Into Women?

It's healthy to talk. That's what men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship

However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year 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 centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less talk.

Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly 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 exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?

As a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Is Connection Require Words?

It's not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing 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 acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry equal value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.