It is good to talk. That's what men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can seem strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.
Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship
However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words?
It's not everyone's ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold equal worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
