“When I’m Sixty-Four”

Last week, I achieved the eponymous age of The Beatles’ song, “When I’m Sixty-Four”, as featured on their “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” album. Like many of the people who commented on YouTube, I was just a kid when I heard this song on its release; and I, too, could not imagine being that age.

For one thing, at that time, back in the late 1960s, my grandparents, great uncles and great aunts were all in their mid- to late-sixties; to me they were already so old, even ancient. God forbid that I should end up like that! Of course, given their life experiences, perhaps it was not surprising that they seemed so wizened (physically and metaphorically) before their time. Living through two world wars and a deep economic depression takes its toll. Also, in 1967, life expectancy was around 72 years; now it’s close to 82. And back then, the UK state pension age was 65. Consequently, people seemed “old” because that’s how they were expected to behave, and they were treated as such by government and society alike.

Now I have reached this milestone myself, I realise more than ever before that aging is also a mental construct, not just a biological process. Hence the notion of “subjective age”. If you think you are too old to do something, then you are probably limiting your options (and narrowing your outlook). Little wonder that articles about “life begins at 60” seem popular!

I know have had a very different life experience to my grandparents. For example, two of them never went abroad, three of them never drove a car, and one didn’t live past the age of 50. Unlike them, I don’t have children or grand children, I have lived outside my country of birth for more than half my life, and I have traveled to far more countries than they ever did.

On the other hand, unlike many of my parents’ generation, many of whom enjoyed jobs with life-long career expectations, I have had a more erratic and inconsistent work experience – similar to my grandparents. In their cases, they either had to create their own work (e.g., small business owner) or endure periods of patchy employment. In my own case, I went into corporate employment at a relatively late age, and exited at age 50 – hitting something of a grey ceiling. Mainly for that reason, I have endeavoured to remain curious, stay open-minded, be flexible and willing to adapt – which I believe has helped me to maintain a “younger” subjective age. I think it also helps to have non-work pursuits and interests, so you can remain active if (and when) your employment comes to an end. Plus, having social interactions with people who are not all the same age as you can help to develop more of an inter-generational perspective.

One last comment – I was very surprised to read recently that according to a global study, boomers like me may be living longer, but not healthier, than our parents and grandparents. Despite medical advances, our lifestyles and other factors may result in more chronic disease and illness. I’m not suggesting that this decline is due to psychological ageing, but I can’t help thinking that if you say you are old, old age (and all its ailments) will soon catch up with you.

Next week: What “wallet” it say about you?

 

 

Does age matter?

When it comes to standing for President, how old is “too old”? When it comes to travelling alone abroad, how young is “too young”?

In the first example, Donald Trump mocked his opponent, Joe Biden about his age and infirmity. Now Trump could become the oldest ever candidate to be elected President, but he doesn’t countenance any criticism of his own mental or physical frailty….

In the second example, a parent has been criticised for allowing their 15-year old son to go Interrailing around Europe, with friends, but minus any adult supervision. The teenager doesn’t appear to have come to any harm – and has probably gained some maturity in the process!

When it comes to the US Presidency, first Trump and then Biden set the record for being the oldest candidates to assume Office (both being in their 70s at the time of their respective inaugurations). In general, Presidents get elected in their 50s or 60s; in the post-war era, only three Presidents have been elected in their 40s – JFK, Clinton and Obama. Meanwhile, across the Atlantic, at the age of 61, Keir Starmer is the oldest person to become British Prime Minister since his Labour predecessor, James Callaghan, who took Office in 1976. I’m not sure what conclusions we can draw from this, but it’s interesting to note that while many countries have mandatory retirement ages for Judges, it seems there is no upper age limit to becoming (or remaining) President, Prime Minister or Head of State. So while old age may be seen as a barrier to dispensing justice in a Court of Law, there is no such concern about exercising political power.

Obviously, age should not be the sole or primary criteria for measuring one’s ability to perform one’s role, to fulfil one’s obligations and to meet one’s responsibilities. Factors such as capacity, cognition, experience, character and overall fitness (physical, mental and moral) should be the basis on which candidates are to be assessed and evaluated.

At the other end of the spectrum, there are several areas where the legal minimum age is being debated: for example, the age of criminal responsibility; the age when children and teenagers should be allowed access to social media; and the voting age. There are also related discussions on the age of consent, marriage, reproductive rights, access to birth control, and censorship controls.

While it is understandable and desirable to protect minors from harm (both by themselves and by others), setting universal minimum ages is not that easy. Individual children and adolescents develop at different rates – biology is simply not that uniform or consistent! I’m sure we all know of teenagers who are far more mature and responsible than adults in their 20s (and even 30s).

Part of the problem is that a fixed age limit does not allow for any sort of transition period. For example, at age 17 years and 364 days, I’m not allowed to buy alcohol; one day later, I can fill my boots! Logic and common sense would suggest that if teenagers had the opportunity to consume alcohol in moderation, in appropriate social and public settings, they would have a much better appreciation for its effects and greater understanding of their personal tolerance, without getting themselves into trouble.

My concern is that in too many areas we are denying young people any control over their own choices and decision-making, and as a result we are absolving them from any personal responsibility. Consequently, as a society we are undermining the concept of individual accountability; when things go wrong as a result of their own choices and actions – whether deliberate, reckless, negligent, careless, inconsiderate or simply idiotic – it’s other people who are left to pick up the pieces. The situation is not helped by the inconsistencies inherent in our definitions of “minor”, “legal age”, “adult”, etc. For example, people can legally drive, have sex and reproduce before they can legally vote, or get married without their parents’ consent.

When I see media coverage that suggests that people in their 20s who have engaged in anti-social, irresponsible or unacceptable behaviour are “too young to know any better”, I can’t help thinking that these commentators are being too generous (or totally patronising). Some people in their 20s are responsible for making life-or-death decisions (first responders, emergency workers, police, medical staff, members of the military). Many more are in the workforce, fulfilling legal and contractual obligations on behalf of themselves and their employers. (And in some fields such as sport and entertainment, they get paid very handsomely to do so.)

Surely, we should treat people over the age of 18 as “responsible adults”. Likewise, we should really know the difference between “right and wrong” by the age of 8 or 9, and certainly by the time we start high school. But if, as some academics and social policy advocates suggest, “adults” don’t fully mature until they are in their mid-20s, perhaps we need to raise the minimum age for driving, marriage, consent and voting to at least 25!

Finally, on the issue of access to social media, I would argue that since the minimum age to enter into a legal contract is 18, and since a social media account is a form of contract (at the very least, it is a type of license?) then anyone under 18 needs to have their parents or legal guardians sign on their behalf to ensure compliance with the terms of use. Alternatively, underage users need to complete a test or undertake an assessment to demonstrate their understanding and competence to participate in these platforms.

Next week: “Megalopolis”? More like mega-flop it is!

 

Notes from the UK

I’ve just made my annual pilgrimage to the UK. It’s also 30 years since I emigrated, and with each passing year, I arrive feeling more and more like a visitor – although I am “from” there, I don’t always feel I am “of” there.

The following notes are some brief observations, in no particular order, based on a relatively short trip (2 weeks), and I was only in the Greater Manchester and Greater London areas.

  • I flew from Melbourne to Manchester, via Hong Kong. My in-bound flight to the UK was carrying a large number of overseas students from China – not surprising, as Manchester has one of the largest Chinese communities in Europe, and the city also boasts a UK Top Ten University.
  • A pint of cask ale in the north west cost me an average of GBP4.00 – in London, it was more like GBP6.00. I know some employees receive “London weighting” or a “London allowance” to cover the high cost of living, but I doubt salaries in the capital are 50% higher than the rest of the country. (Regional variations in property prices are a different matter altogether!)
  • On the other hand, a sour dough loaf from a local bakery in the Peak District cost me GBP3.00 – I would generally pay about 50-60% more for a similar product in Melbourne.
  • The in-coming Labour government, having won a huge majority in July’s General Election, has already hit the buffers. A combination of unpopular policies (cutting pensioners’ winter energy rebates), strange priorities (a ban on outdoor smoking), off-key messaging (“doom and gloom” rhetoric) and sleaze (donations of clothes, tickets and spectacles for the new Prime Minister and his wife) have brought the post-election honeymoon period to an abrupt end.
  • Staying with politics, there was a lot of despondency, if not anger, about the political climate. Despite Labour’s overwhelming success at the polls, it was hard to feel any love for the new government. And after more than four years since Brexit, no-one was jumping for joy at the outcomes, as the alleged promises and benefits fail to materialise. If anything, businesses are suffering due to the loss of access to EU markets and/or the additional costs of exporting.
  • Thankfully, the riots that erupted a few weeks ago have dissipated, but it felt like the underlying tensions remain. As well as having been triggered by malicious rumours and blatant disinformation, the social unrest revealed confusion about national identity (and what it means to be “British”), combined with contradictory views on immigration, multiculturalism and globalisation.
  • Meanwhile, the UK taste for “foreign” food continues unabated, along with a love of overseas holidays.
  • Despite producing some of the best television dramas in the world, UK content makers continue pumping out aging soap operas, stale game shows, endless talent contests and questionable reality TV. So, much like the rest of the world!
  • I paid GBP114.00 for a return train ticket from Manchester to London, which seems expensive for a 2.5 hour service. Both my outbound and return journeys were delayed by more than 15 minutes. Thanks to “Delay Repay”, I received a total of GBP42.00 in compensation. I can’t help thinking that the train and rail operators should focus on improving their services, rather than overcharging and delaying passengers, in the hope that the effort to claim is not worth customers’ time.
  • When visiting London, I usually use an Oyster card. This time, I forgot to take it – but thankfully, passengers can use contactless payment methods on trains, the Undergound and even short trips on buses (just remember to touch on and off with the same card on each journey!)
  • The autumn weather was especially mild, enabling me to indulge in long walks in the countryside, followed by a mandatory pint or two in a local pub (that great “British” institution!) Sadly, a combination of Covid lockdowns and changing social patterns means that many pubs have reduced their opening hours, or closed their doors for good.
  • As Australia’s near-duopolistic supermarkets face legal action for alleged misleading and deceptive price discounting, I’m reminded of the amount of choice UK shoppers have between supermarket chains, and across product ranges. No doubt that more competitive markets in Australia (for grocery shopping and beyond) would help alleviate the cost of living – but that requires structural and other changes for which successive Federal governments have had no appetite.

Next week: Does age matter?

Reclaim The Night

Before I get into this week’s topic, some background for context. A few weeks ago I was having coffee in my local cafe. I couldn’t help overhear two young women talking at the next table. One of them was expressing the level of fear she experiences whenever she is out alone for a run, a walk, or on her bike. She described the apprehension she feels that a man might randomly attack her. These attacks might be physical or verbal, actual or threatened, explicit or implied. Her natural reaction is to be extra vigilant about her personal safety, but there was also a sense of dread and exhaustion at having to navigate this constant threat, and in turn raises a risk of not pursuing her daily activities. It was a depressing reminder that women must feel the same way, every day, and the recent events in Ballarat were surely a prompt for this discussion.

In October 1980, I became a student at Leeds University. Newly arrived in the city from London, where I grew up, I think I was only vaguely aware of the infamous Yorkshire Ripper case. But soon after my first term started, a student was murdered not far from the University campus, and in an area where many students lived. Jacqueline Hill was deemed to be Peter Sutcliffe’s last victim (but probably not for the want of trying on his part, given his violent attacks on women are believed to have begun in the late 1960s). I was in the city centre on the night that the police confirmed that they had caught Sutcliffe, and the sense of public relief was palpable and understandable, if misplaced – because Sutcliffe was obviously a “maniac” and not like “normal” men.

During Sutcliffe’s campaign of violence and murderous attacks, women in Leeds had organised a series of marches known as Reclaim the Night, largely in response to police advice that women should not venture into public places alone at night. The marches were also designed to draw attention to issues of domestic violence, rape and other offences and injustices against women. They were part of the feminist debate around issues of the patriarchal society, misogyny, sexism and apparent double standards when it came to the police investigation into the Sutcliffe case.

I recall seeing some of the marches in Leeds, and there were even calls for a night-time curfew on men. A radical suggestion, and one I had some sympathy for, but it was obviously impractical and in some ways the wrong response. Calling for men to be off the streets is not so very different to cultures and religions demanding (and forcing) women to dress “modestly” in public in case they provoke men into a sexual or violent frenzy. Surely, men should be able to control themselves?

Sadly, it seems we still need to be constantly reminded of how vile, aggressive, threatening, intimidating and violent men are towards women, individually and collectively.

Next week: Sakamoto – Opus