It is good to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the common male tendency to spend 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 time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with 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 innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody.
Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship
Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less talk.
Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?
From a female perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words?
This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold equal worth, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
