Masculine Connections Develop One Way, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women?

It is healthy to talk. Or so men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody.

Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship

However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk.

Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing 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 apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?

From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words?

This is not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?

This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry equal value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.