🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Form Differently, Female Friendships Other. Ought We Halt Efforts to Make Men Into Women? It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old 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 managing 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 form of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that 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 classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? As a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable 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. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words? This is not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words? The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry comparable value, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old 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 managing 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 form of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that 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 classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? As a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable 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. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words? This is not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words? The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry comparable value, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.