Male Bonds Form One Way, Female Relationships Other. Should We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women?
It is good to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can seem oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern 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 brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.
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 ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also value less chatter.
Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks 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 records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words?
This is not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold equal value, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
