It is healthy to talk. That's what men are often told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit 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 time? Why haven'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 typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—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—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less chatter.
Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
As a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?
This is not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold equal worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
