It is good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old 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 dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.
Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet 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 bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending 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 companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter.
Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?
As a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words?
The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
