It is good to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly 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 comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less chatter.
Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?
As a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words?
This is not everyone's preferred method of bonding, 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 someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words?
The debate continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold comparable value, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
