It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? 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 typically revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men report having no 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 many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody.
Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship
Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—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 preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps 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 Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?
From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while younger men brought up 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 "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words?
It's not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?
The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold equal worth, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
