It is good to talk. Or so men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women 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 with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven'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 often center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody.
Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk.
Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a woman's viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words?
It's not everyone's ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words?
The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold equal worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
