It is healthy to talk. Or so men are often advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might 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 often revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody.
Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue 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 study has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging 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. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk.
Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive 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 dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?
This is not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry equal value, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
