It is good to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically center on an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can seem strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
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 argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also value less chatter.
Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?
As a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?
This is not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry comparable value, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
