It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the typical male propensity to pass 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 managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse 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 frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody.
Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship
Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Is Connection Require 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 simply the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold comparable value, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own effective way.