🔗 Share this article Masculine Friendships Develop Differently, Women's Relationships Another. Ought We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women? It's good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem strangely empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year 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 underrated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk. Past Words: The Unspoken Language 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 touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? It's not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words? The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry equal worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
It's good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem strangely empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year 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 underrated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk. Past Words: The Unspoken Language 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 touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? It's not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words? The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry equal worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique effective way.