It is good to talk. Or so men are often advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male habit 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 might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can seem strangely empty and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men report 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 exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody.
Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal version 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 likewise appreciate less chatter.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?
From a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made 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 Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person 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 recognize that varied forms of friendship hold equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
