It is healthy to talk. Or so men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn'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 innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one.
Rethinking the Value of Silent Companionship
However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending 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 companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less chatter.
Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?
From a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating 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 endlessly.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, 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, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words?
It's not everyone's ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real 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 invariably be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship hold equal worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
