It's healthy to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are perplexed 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 personal struggles 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 often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one.
Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk.
Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?
As a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?
This is not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words?
The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry comparable value, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
