It is healthy to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are 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 could they possibly be doing, all that while? 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 encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can look oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps nobody.
Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship
Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a woman's perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. 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 probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
This is not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words?
This discussion continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold comparable worth, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
