Male Connections Evolve One Way, Women's Friendships Another. Ought We Cease Attempting 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 puzzled by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? 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 typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can seem strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one.

Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship

However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less chatter.

Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?

From a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words?

This is not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words?

This discussion continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.