It's good to talk. That's what men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding 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 inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship
Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less chatter.
Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating 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 reticent friendships. Could he be right?
From a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Essential Issue: Is Connection Require Words?
This is not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold comparable worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
