Ageing is Not a Social Problem: How people negotiate the fixed categories of ageing created by the postwar welfare state (and why no one likes the term ‘elderly’).

This is the second instalment of a short series on ageing (the first is here). As I noted when introducing this series, this research was carried out in collaboration with colleagues at Brunel, Demos, Mass Observation (MO) and the University of the Third Age (U3A) as part of the New Dynamics of Ageing programme. Our project was called ‘Fiction and the Cultural Mediation of Ageing’, but I mainly worked on responses to the MO directives on ‘Growing Older’ (Winter 1992), ‘Age’ (Autumn 2006) and ‘Books and You’ (Winter 2009). Overall findings were published in a 200-word report with Demos, Coming of Age (2011), which is available for free download here. An article by myself and Philip Tew, ‘“There is no doubt that I’m OLD”: Everyday Narratives of Ageing’, gives a useful overview of some of the main themes of the research. Data from the reading groups conducted in collaboration with the U3A is archived online and available for secondary analysis. The particular analysis below, which focuses on MO responses, was discussed in more detail in our book Ageing, Narrative and Identity: New Qualitative Social Research (Palgrave Macmillan, 2013)

While, as Pat Thane (2000) notes, in writing about the responses to the 1992 MO directive on ‘Growing Older’, ‘Mass Observers [are] not representative of the British population in any strict sense’ (464); it is also the case, as she goes on to add, that:

They can be said come from backgrounds comparable with those of a very high proportion of the British population at the end of the twentieth century. Mass Observation provides an unusual opportunity to read the opinions, expressed at length, in their own words, of people whose views are rarely made public. (464)

So, therefore, while these views are not those of a statistical sample, they do represent the in-depth opinion, not otherwise available, of ordinary people, who are simultaneously extraordinary in the sense, discussed in the previous post, that they are at all times reflecting on their ordinariness as well as simply reporting on their doings and attitudes. The 1992 directive asked these respondents to explain the categories of ‘young’, ‘middle-aged’, ‘elderly’ and ‘old’. The age ranges given fell broadly into this pattern:

Young: 18-35/40

Middle-Aged: 40/45/55 – 50/55/60/65

Elderly: 60/65-75

Old: 75+.

[some people left gaps on either side of middle-aged hence the variations; and a few people had ‘old’ and ‘elderly’ reversed so that the latter category represented the oldest].

Clearly, what most people (who answered this part of the directive) did was divide up life into the categories provided by the question. Interesting questions thrown up by this exercise included: (a) which people did not answer this part of the directive; (b) how people described themselves in relation to these categories; and (c) how people actually described the characteristics of the categories.

While, over half of the men confidently provided age ranges in the above manner; less than a quarter of the women were prepared to do so. Some explicitly refused; but the more common reason supplied took the form of variations on the response: ‘it is what you feel like inside that counts.’ Comments from women who did not classify what they understood by the different categories included:

B1261: I am now 76 years of age and would class my body as elderly but my mind as young middle aged

B1429: I am 67 years old and I don’t feel old.

B1521: I don’t care to be an old person. People in newspaper reports are stated to be elderly at 60. At 63 myself, I don’t consider myself elderly.

However, both women and men who did classify the categories were prone to then situate themselves outside the parameters of their own classification, as did these women:

B2258, 55, (Y<40; MA<65; E<75; O>75): I would on that general perspective, see myself as middle-aged now – but I don’t feel that way.

B2645, 78, (Y<40; MA 45-65: E <75; O>75): But although I am aged 78 I do not think of myself as old but elderly.

And these men:

B1989, 65, (Y<30; MA 40-59; O<70; E>75): I would place myself in the category of old though I do not feel particularly old.

D1419, 69, (Y<25; MA 40s; E 60s; O>70): At one time I would have considered this old (perhaps very old) but now that I have reached this age. I am inclined to think that people attain old age in their late seventies or early eighties. I am even reluctant to describe myself as elderly.

There are many other examples making similar points. Clearly, as in the last example quoted, perspectives change as individuals change with age but it is also the case that perspectives change with the social values of the age. It is notable that the men and women who categorised age ranges are frequently those with specific career paths (training, appointment, consolidation, promotions, sometimes redundancy, and retirement) and sometimes, in the cases of men, the application of an age-range category carries a value judgment, for example: ‘Many men in my experience are ‘middle-aged’ from 30, lacking confidence and initiative’ (B1442, 69).

It is possible to consider that these age-range categories represent a particular perspective of ageing rooted in the social values of the post-war era of full employment and the Welfare State. Before the War, these categories did not exist for the mass of people: they were young and then grown up – maturity set in at 40 and life remained much the same from then on until perhaps 70 if one was lucky (several mass-observers remember their grandparents living on the pre-war ‘ten bob’ pension and not being treated especially differently to anyone else). A 1939 MO directive investigating the relationship of social attitudes to age, simply investigates the differences between those under and over the age of 40. However, the 1945 political settlement changed the social perception of ageing to produce the categories assumed by the 1992 directive but which in fact, as the responses show, are beginning to crumble at that point. Indeed, this transition in social attitudes is an integral part of the process of which Professor Linda Partridge, the head of the working group behind the Academy of Medical Science’s 2009 report Rejuvenating Ageing Research report, was quoted in the edition of the Observer published on 27 September 2009 as saying that ‘today’s 60 year-olds have the lifestyles that 40 year-olds had a century ago’.

It is noticeable that when these questions on age categories were repeated in the 2006 directive, the term ‘elderly’ was dropped. As noted above, there was some confusion as to where ‘elderly’ fits into the spectrum of ageing and, significantly, it was clearly the most unpopular term despite being ostensibly not the oldest category. One point that was (negatively) commented on by several respondents, including a journalist, was the tendency of the media to label anyone over 50 as elderly. The more fundamental problems of the term were analysed by this man:

When I was very much younger [ … ] the word elderly, which my dictionary defines as “somewhat old: bordering on old age” was hardly used or thought of but it was politely used of people who were assumed to be old. For example to refer to an ‘elderly aunt’ was rather more correct than ‘old aunt’

   Now that I am 68 myself the markers seem to have shifted a bit [ … ] The term ‘elderly’ is now very current everywhere, particularly in describing social conditions or making special provisions, and I would define it as old and disabled, partially disabled or with capacities in obvious decline though not to the degree of senility. I do not mind being referred to as being old, but I do not consider myself elderly. (W2117, 68)

What is primarily being objected to here is external categorisation itself. It is notable that the respondent refers to the use of the term ‘elderly’ in conjunction with descriptions of social conditions and special provisions: rather as with the usage of terms like juveniles or, even, youth, there is a silent ‘problem’ implied. People do not mind being old in the same way they do not mind being young: what they do mind is being labelled. A similar point was made by Bill Bytheway (2005) in his research on age-identities, which drew on a different set of MO directives concerning the celebration of birthdays. Discussing the third age idea that dates of birth and ages should simply not be recorded for official purposes to prevent ageism, he reached a different conclusion from his study of material in the MO Archive: ‘people do not find chronological age problematic – whenever it appears appropriate, they are willing to reveal it – but many consider the implied age-identity inappropriate and unwelcome’ (475-6).

By 2006, it was also strikingly clear that the numbers prepared to categorise the age ranges were less than in 1992. The trends already discernible in 1992 had accelerated so that virtually no one, for example, considered being in the 60s as old (or elderly or any other such term):

I would class 60-75 yrs as being middle-aged! (B1215, female, 53)

   Of course, I’m ‘middle-aged’ now and I wouldn’t argue with anyone who said so, but I wonder when I’d have objected to being called this? From where I am (at 60) ‘old’ starts around 80 years of age. (B3886, male, 60)

   A long time ago I think I would probably have thought of middle aged as 50-60ish, but now I’m 60 – I even felt a bit funny writing it at the top of the page – middle age will probably be me going on to 70. (A1706, female, 60)

   At 70 I still like to think that I am on the end of the category of Middle-Aged (B1771, female, 70)

   I am 71 now, feel fine, and can do everything I could do at 30 – but sometimes a bit slower! In many young peoples’ minds, I will be well and truly over the hill, ancient, but when one gets to this age in pretty good health, it really does not feel old. (B3323, male, 71).

   I feel middle-aged (B89, female, 75)

Another related change from 1992, is that whereas people then caught themselves using the dominant categorisations, which they eschewed for themselves, for others; in 2006, the old categorisations were simply in the process of being abandoned as, for example, in the case of A1706 (who is also quoted above):

I think I sometimes describe people not by age-bands. I might call someone ‘a bit Mick Jaggerish’ meaning he’s a hip young-minded middle aged person or ‘she’s a bit Shelley Winters’ meaning the weighty gin drinking friendly sort of middle aged person.

Of course, there were also people in their 70s who did talk about themselves as being old, but here it seemed to be functioning as a self description (something along the lines of ‘I’ve earned the right to call myself old now’) and not as an external categorisation of their limitations:

   I am well and truly ‘old’ […] I suppose that from the age of 72, I was beginning to feel old, but I am happy to say that I am still active! I cycle nearly every day and go for walking holidays – preferably in the mountains and last year was able to do a ten hour day in the hills. Perhaps, therefore, one is as old as one feels. (B1509, male, 77)

 Much of the debate around usage of MO material – for a summary see Pollen (2013) – misses the point that it is typically used to provide case studies rather than for representative quantitative research on public opinion. That is to say that MO material particularly supports types of inference based on analytical induction:

This is the inference that the theoretical relationship among conceptually defined elements in the sample will also apply to the parent population. The basis of an inference of this sort is the cogency of the theoretical argument linking the elements in an intelligible way rather than the statistical representativeness of the sample. (Mitchell 1984: 239-40)

The following analysis demonstrates how responses to the 1992 and 2006 directives can be used for longitudinal case studies (five of which are provided in Ageing, Narrative and Identity) as a basis for thinking about the process of ageing, related identity formation and the relationship between the third and fourth ages. As the above example from B1509 suggests, MO allows the process of accepting one’s oldness to be traced out for a number of individuals. This is particularly the case where observers were already retired at the time of the 1992 directive, as it becomes possible to see how their attitudes have changed 14 years later. Here, the male observer B1654, responds to the 1992 directive and  reflects on the difficulty of describing his exact age status; admitting that he would be emotionally hurt to be called old:

I am now closer to 62 than 61 and find myself fallen between two stools. I am still quite active and cannot possibly regard myself as being elderly, but on the other hand how can I be middle-aged when I have no expectations of living until I am 124! Perhaps it is appropriate to heed the saying ‘You are only as old as you feel’ rather than go around wearing mental labels admitting defeat to the advance of the years.

   My friend Herbert adopts this attitude of mind. He is 78 and is soon to go into hospital for the first of two hip replacements. He is presently almost housebound, although unfailingly cheerful, and he told me recently that he hated old people. ‘They’re always moaning and groaning about something,’ he said.

   [ … ]

   No one has yet called me ‘elderly’ or ‘old’, but should this happen I believe I would feel a little sad. No one wants to be reminded that the passing of time is beginning to show …. that there are fewer years left to live than those already lived.

This man clearly wants to continue to live his life in the active manner to which he is accustomed and expresses a certain level of anxiety about being able to do so. This desire corresponds to the ideas behind the contemporary notion of ‘active’ or ‘successful ageing’. For example, Professor Ray Tallis, another member of the working group responsible for Rejuvenating Ageing Research was also quoted in the Observer of 27 September 2009:

We want people to live long healthy lives and then when they go, to slip away quickly. After all, that is how most people want to live and die and, of course, it is also attractive economically. The less time we spend in hospital the happier we are and the less we cost the state.

This might seem unobjectionable at first glance and yet if we return to our 61 year-old man in 2006, we find him still writing about aging but, now at the age of 75, with a different attitude:

I recently read an American author who claimed, rather cynically, I thought, that the best thing about old age was that it didn’t last long! This inferred that once you reached one or the other of the later milestones it would be preferable to die rather than continue to live as a slow and crooked shadow of your former self. I cannot agree – not yet, that is. At 75 years of age I have a disabling lung disease that cannot be cured. I fight for breath after the slightest exertion and there are times when I need the help of doctors and nurses, but I still enjoy my life and every day is precious – books to read, films to see, letters to write, grandchildren to spoil, driving to the shops, a good wife with whom to share so many simple pleasures. Unlike the American writer I would rather see my old age as an extended period of reward in which I am given the time to do all those things that had to be set aside in the rush and race of a younger life. Long may it last. 

[ … ]  

And now I am old. I have lost most of my hair and I have an elderly man’s ‘pot’ that requires me to wear braces rather than a belt to keep my trousers comfortably in place. I like to dress smartly and would never dream of not showering and shaving in the mornings, as I have done all my life. I read a quality newspaper and watch television news to keep me abreast of world events. I do have a habit of dropping off in my chair for forty winks in the afternoon while reading – and then find I can’t sleep much past 4.30 in the mornings! Infuriating. I enjoy my food and enjoy going on shopping expeditions with my wife. I like a tot or two of whisky after 8.30 in the evenings and I am generally in my bedroom reading by 9.30pm. I drive a 1.3 car that is now ten years old and generally speaking I am utterly content with my lot because I have long accepted that fact that I have everything that old age can hope for. Peace, quiet, comfort, to name but three essentials … the best thing about old age is that it brings wisdom – the ability to look back and learn from one’s own life.

 What is particularly interesting about this man’s two statements on ageing, made 14 years apart, is the way that the second one exhibits a dual consciousness that is not present in the first one. At age 75, he is able to accept a separation between, on the one hand, his consciousness of enjoying material pleasures and of having enjoyed his life, and, on the other hand, the pleasures themselves and the life itself. Whereas, at 61, a much more existentialist angst is discernible in him that he remain identifiable primarily as his state of being in the world at that moment. The qualitative difference between these two identities, which are nonetheless both in the retired age range, suggests the possibility of a much more sophisticated way of understanding ageing than that offered in the quote by Tallis above. Eventual frailty – for example, suffering from a lung disease as the man above – is compatible with the capacity for peaceful reflection on the pleasures of life. The lifespan should not be measured as one continuous adult stage and then a quick death because that is a philosophy based on a denial of death. If we really want to understand human life in all its stages then we shouldn’t pathologise age-related infirmities and ‘underlying conditions’. Society would be transformed by refusing to define old age in numerical terms or by reference to employment status. Instead, the term should be self-defined and indicate an awareness of having entered a reflective stage of life which will eventually end in death but might none the less last for years. Only in this manner we will move beyond the implicit designation of ageing as a social problem.

References

Bazalgette, Louise, John Holden, Philip Tew, Nick Hubble and Jago Morrison (2011) Coming of Age. London: Demos.

Bytheway, Bill (2005) ‘Age-identities and the Celebration of Birthdays’, Ageing & Society, 25, 463-477.

Hubble, Nick and Philip Tew (2013). Ageing, Narrative and Identity: New Qualitative Social Research. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan.

Mitchell, J (1984). ‘Typicality and the Case Study’. In R.F. Ellen (ed.). Ethnographic Research: A Guide to Conduct. New York: Academic Press, 238-241.

Pollen, Annebella (2013). ‘Research Methodology in Mass Observation Past and Present: “Scientifically, about as valuable as a chimpanzee’s tea party at the zoo”?’ History Workshop Journal. 75 [advance access] (January 2013): 1-23.

Thane, Pat (2000). Old Age in English History: Past Experiences, Present Issues. Oxford: Oxford University Press.