Masculine Bonds Evolve Differently, Female Relationships Other. Should We Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women?

It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight 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 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 understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps nobody.

Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship

However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient 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 predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk.

Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, 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 surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?

From a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Does Bonding 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 another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words?

The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry comparable value, each meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.