It's good to talk. That's what men are often advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused 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 personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can look oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one.
However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching 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 observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside 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 version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less talk.
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?
From a female viewpoint, one is clearly 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 do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
It's not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold equal value, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
Milan is een ervaren opticien met een passie voor visuele technologie en klantgerichtheid.
