Masculine Bonds Form One Way, Female Relationships Another. Ought We Halt Efforts to Turn Men Into Women?

It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male propensity to pass 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 asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one.

Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship

However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

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

Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. 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 talk.

Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming 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 more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?

From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?

This is not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?

The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.