It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are often instructed, from sources ranging 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 longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can look oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody.
Rethinking the Value of Quiet Friendship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also value less chatter.
Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing 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 exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
This is not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words?
The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold comparable value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
