It is healthy to talk. That's what men are often advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return 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 often revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can seem strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody.
Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship
However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths 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 impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also appreciate less chatter.
Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?
As a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open 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 frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Is Connection 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 knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold equal worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
