It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male tendency 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 while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one.
Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal 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—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter.
Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, 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?
From a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told 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 elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Is Connection Require Words?
This is not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold comparable value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
