For years, men have been told they need to open up. From mental health campaigns to partners' gentle nudges, the message is clear: talking is good for you. Yet, many men persist in friendships built not on intimate confessionals, but on shared activities and companionable silence. New research suggests we might have been judging these bonds too harshly.
The 'Strong and Silent' Friendship Under the Microscope
Anthropologist Professor Thomas Yarrow from Durham University spent four years observing a group of mostly older, male volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England. His study, titled "Rethinking male relationships and the value of personal reticence", argues that friendships centred on shared hobbies – like maintaining steam trains – hold significant, underrated value, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip.
Yarrow's work began as research into nostalgia but shifted focus when he noticed the profound closeness among the railway enthusiasts. Their bonding occurred through "doing things together, often in companionable silence", a model that defies the modern emphasis on verbal emotional exchange.
Communication Without the Conversation
The research highlights a critical point: a lack of visible emotional talk does not equate to a lack of care. Yarrow observed a poignant example when an elderly volunteer returned to work after an absence, visibly struggling for breath. His friends noticed immediately and were concerned.
However, they did not directly ask about his health. Instead, they offered cups of tea, cracked jokes, and provided discreet support while maintaining a sense of normalcy. This, Yarrow contends, was their way of expressing love and solidarity – looking out for one another in a manner functionally similar to how female friends might, but without ever verbally acknowledging the crisis.
Is the Pressure to 'Talk' Misguided?
The common narrative suggests that male reticence is a problem. Statistics are often cited: over a quarter of British men report having no close friends, male loneliness is endemic, and suicide rates are higher among men. The logical conclusion has been that men must learn to communicate more like women.
Yet Yarrow is careful not to frame his findings as a critique of emotionally open communication. He is not arguing for a return to repressed masculinity. Rather, he suggests that "touchy-feely talk isn't necessarily for everyone" and that meaningful connection can exist beneath a seemingly stoic surface. The therapeutic value of friendship – staving off loneliness and despair – may lie simply in the knowledge that someone cares enough to stand beside you, whether or not that is articulated.
As columnist Gaby Hinsliff notes, younger men are generally better at expressing feelings, and older men are far from incapable of emotion when it is rebranded in acceptable terms, like sporting passion or political opinion. The key takeaway from Yarrow's work with the East Lancashire Railway volunteers is that we should perhaps broaden our definition of meaningful friendship. For many men, companionship found through trains, golf, or a quiet drink may be exactly enough.
