🔗 Share this article Male Friendships Develop One Way, Women's Friendships Other. Ought We Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women? It is healthy to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can seem oddly empty and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of 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, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? As a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? This is not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
It is healthy to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can seem oddly empty and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of 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, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? As a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? This is not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.