🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Develop Differently, Female Friendships Other. Ought We Cease Attempting to Turn Men Into Women? It's good to talk. That's what men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn'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 often revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also value less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words? It's not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold comparable worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
It's good to talk. That's what men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn'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 often revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also value less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words? It's not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold comparable worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique effective way.