It's healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might 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 own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men state 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 exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one.
Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship
Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at 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 four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside 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 idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less chatter.
Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly 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 more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked 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 obvious issue.
The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?
This is not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be put into words?
The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry equal worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
