It is healthy to talk. That's what men are often advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? 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 personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can look oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to 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 idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less chatter.
Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
As a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words?
It's not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words?
The debate continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
