🔗 Share this article Masculine Connections Develop Differently, Female Friendships Other. Should We Halt Efforts to Turn Men Into Women? It's healthy to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male habit 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 could 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 own friendships typically center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody. Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent 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 closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less chatter. Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping 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 Question: Is Connection Need Words? This is not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
It's healthy to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male habit 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 could 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 own friendships typically center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody. Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent 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 closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less chatter. Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping 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 Question: Is Connection Need Words? This is not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.