It is good to talk. That's what men are often told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the typical male propensity to spend 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 center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.
Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship
However, 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 heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can sound oddly 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 preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also appreciate less chatter.
Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights 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?
As a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.
Additionally, 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 soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?
It's not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry comparable value, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.
