Masculine Friendships Form One Way, Female Friendships Other. Should We Stop Trying to Turn Men Into Women?

It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are often told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven'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 detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse 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 chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody.

Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship

However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly 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 quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also appreciate less chatter.

Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing 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 occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?

As a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Essential Issue: Is Connection Require Words?

This is not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words?

The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold comparable value, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique effective way.