It is good to talk. That's what men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and silent 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 mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, 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 different," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children 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 imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less chatter.
Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?
From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Essential Issue: Is Connection Require Words?
It's not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry comparable worth, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.
