It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? 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 often revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse 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 permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody.
Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship
However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and silent 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 bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly 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 underappreciated.
This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.
Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?
As a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words?
This is not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words?
The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry comparable value, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
