It's healthy to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.
Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship
Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less talk.
Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?
As a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
What is notable 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 older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, 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, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words?
It's not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words?
The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold equal value, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
