It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are often advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male propensity 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 while? Why haven'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 typically center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship
Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness 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 value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—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 version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.
Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?
From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words?
It's not everyone's 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 the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?
The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold equal worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.
