It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners 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 with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no 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 countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.
Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship
Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter.
Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
As a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?
The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold comparable value, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
