Male Friendships Form Differently, Female Friendships Another. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Turn Men Into Women?

It is good to talk. That's what men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.

Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship

However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

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

Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps 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 also value less chatter.

Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?

As a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, discontent, or pride for hours.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made 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 naming the obvious issue.

The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words?

This is not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be put into words?

This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry comparable value, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.