It's good to talk. Or so men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.
Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship
However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study 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 hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave 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 value less talk.
Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
As a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words?
This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that someone is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry comparable value, each meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.
