It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding 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 handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one.
Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?
From a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?
This is not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
