It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male tendency 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 could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.
Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching 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 arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.
Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern
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 touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
As a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words?
It's not everyone's ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold comparable worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
