It is healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one.
Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and quiet 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 forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to 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 version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let 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 Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless 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 worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Essential Question: Is Connection Require Words?
It's not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words?
The debate continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold equal value, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
