It is good to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships often center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear oddly empty and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one.
Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise value less talk.
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?
As a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
It's not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words?
The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
Eleanor is a passionate writer and cultural enthusiast, sharing her experiences and discoveries from across the UK.