It's healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk.
Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?
From a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words?
It's not the preferred 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 difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry comparable worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique effective way.