It's healthy to talk. That's what men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events 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 dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient 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 lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less talk.
Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?
From a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words?
This is not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal value, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
