It's healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships often center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless 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 no one.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending 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This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk.
Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?
As a female perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words?
It's not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold equal worth, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.
