It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are often told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old 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 managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one.
Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue 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 impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk.
Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?
From a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words?
This is not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry comparable worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
