Male Connections Develop Differently, Women's Friendships Another. Should We Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women?

It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless 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 understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.

Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage 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 stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea 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 pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less chatter.

Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion 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 reticent friendships. Could he be right?

As a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, discontent, or pride for hours.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words?

It's not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words?

The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold equal value, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.