It is healthy to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male propensity 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 could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody.
Rethinking the Value of Quiet Friendship
However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?
As a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words?
It's not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?
This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold comparable worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
