It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and sad. 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 until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship
However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up 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 underrated.
This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.
Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more 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 conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion 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 observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?
This is not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?
The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
