It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one.
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk.
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?
As a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
It's not the ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words?
This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
Elara Vance is a Toronto-based journalist and cultural critic with a passion for exploring the intersection of politics and everyday life in Canada.