It's good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? 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 revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody.
Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter.
Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words?
It's not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words?
The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
