🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Develop One Way, Female Friendships Other. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Make Men Into Women? It's good to talk. Or so men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing 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 healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry equal worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
It's good to talk. Or so men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing 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 healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry equal worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.