It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.
Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship
However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.
Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a woman's viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, 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, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words?
It's not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words?
The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry equal value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.
