🔗 Share this article Masculine Connections Evolve Differently, Women's Relationships Another. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Turn Men Into Women? It is healthy to talk. That's what men are often advised, 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 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 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 deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred 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 pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter. Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating 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 anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? It's not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words? The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
It is healthy to talk. That's what men are often advised, 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 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 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 deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred 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 pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter. Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating 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 anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? It's not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words? The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.