🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Develop Differently, Female Friendships Other. Ought We Halt Efforts to Turn Men Into Women? It is good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one. Rethinking the Value 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 researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? From a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, 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, but without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? This is not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.
It is good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one. Rethinking the Value 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 researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? From a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, 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, but without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? This is not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.