Masculine Bonds Evolve One Way, Women's Friendships Other. Should We Stop Trying to Turn Men Into Women?

It's good to talk. Or so men are often told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male propensity to spend 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 could they possibly be doing, all that while? 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 often center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can seem oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one.

Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk.

Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?

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

Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?

It's not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words?

The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry comparable worth, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.