Male Bonds Evolve One Way, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like Women?

It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male tendency 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 could 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 personal friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one.

Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship

Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.

Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also appreciate less chatter.

Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?

As a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?

This is not everyone's preferred way 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 someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?

The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.