It's good to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight 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 typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship
Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying 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 centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because 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—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter.
Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a woman's viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that invariably be put into words?
The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.
