🔗 Share this article Male Bonds Evolve One Way, Female Friendships Another. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Make Men Into Women? It's healthy to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked 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 detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; 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 permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be put into words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold equal value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.
It's healthy to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked 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 detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; 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 permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be put into words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold equal value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.