Male Connections Form One Way, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Cease Attempting to Turn Men Into Women?
It's good to talk. Or so men are often advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events 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 personal friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody.
Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship
However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation 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 comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that 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 classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk.
Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?
From a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?
This is not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words?
This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry equal worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.