It is healthy to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might 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 personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody.
Rethinking the Value of Quiet Friendship
Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly 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. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less talk.
Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming 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 exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
As a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words?
This is not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold equal value, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
