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By Lyndi Schrecengost [ [link removed] ]
Ageism, like racism and sexism, is based largely on unproven ideas. It can be as subtle and as nuanced as other forms of discrimination, yet far more difficult to prove or prosecute. Although the origins of prejudice are many and varied, one common theory is that it stems from fear—fear of difference, but also fear of the unknown. In fact, one researcher [ [link removed] ] has called ageism “prejudice against our feared future self.”
President Biden’s decision to drop out of the 2024 presidential race put the issue back in the news, illuminating the tensions, contradictions and fears we associate with aging—and the way we describe it and grapple with it both personally and publicly. But ageism is not a new concept or a new term. The word was first coined about 50 years ago by Robert Butler, a pioneer in the study of aging. In his Pulitzer Prize-winning book “Why Survive? Being Old in America [ [link removed] ],” Butler wrote; “In America childhood is romanticized, youth is idolized, middle age does the work, wields the power and pays the bills, and old age, its days empty of purpose, gets little or nothing of what it has already done. The old are in the way.”
Ageism can take several forms. It can be hostile, benevolent or calculated. When it is built into political, psychological, and economic systems, it can also be institutionalized. Hostile ageism is straightforward: Physically abusing, over-medicating or neglecting an older person in a nursing home are obvious examples. But most of us are far more culpable of benevolent ageism—ageism that appears benign and well-intentioned, is typically expressed in a warm manner or tone, and is soaked in condescension. This more “acceptable” type of ageism might take the form of offering unsolicited assistance to an older person, questioning their decision-making or expressing unwanted concern.
Today, most Americans acknowledge the need to be sensitive about stereotypes based on race, gender or sexual orientation, but ageism is often either ignored or dismissed. And people are expected to tolerate it as part of getting older. As a result, older people often absorb this prejudice into their psyches and then parrot the same assumptions back to us. We find it in seemingly harmless greeting cards and tired, self-deprecating jokes about “grumpy old men,” “senior moments” and “little old ladies.”
My mother, who is 86, frequently states that “getting old isn’t for sissies.” Recognizing that health changes can be challenging and differ from person to person, we must ask whether some of these attitudes about aging are more connected to what our culture is telling us about our changing status as we age.
Another common form of benevolent ageism is “elderspeak,” which parallels the way parents speak to babies or very young children—what we might call “baby talk.” Elderspeak also can seep into our routine interactions when we call an older person “sweetie” or “hon” or “dear.” This is especially conspicuous in healthcare or service professions [ [link removed] ], and people over the age of 60 cite this as the most common form of ageism they encounter. Although such treatment is both humiliating and infantilizing, older people often find it hard to defend themselves against it out of fear of offending or provoking retaliation.
Older people complain of health professionals not looking at them or speaking to them directly during medical appointments. Store clerks ignore them or patronize them. Spammers prey on them. The underlying message in this kind of behavior is that older people are incompetent—they can’t process information, perform certain tasks or learn something new.
The pandemic brought new attention to this issue, when the media often portrayed older people as frail or in need of protection. The words “elderly” and “vulnerable” were often linked in reports on the COVID-19 pandemic. This “vulnerability narrative” contributed to resentment toward older people—that they were the cause of the lockdowns and restrictions [ [link removed] ], that they were being unfairly prioritized for vaccines, and that they were basically “cramping the style” of younger generations.
In an article “Ageism in the Time of COVID-19,” [ [link removed] ] psychologists Alison Chasteen and Hannah Swift argue that in many countries the framing of the pandemic failed to point out that people of all ages were vulnerable to the virus. In fact, very early data revealed that adults in their 20s and 30s were the largest proportion of carriers of the virus, with many suffering serious health consequences.
According to Chasteen, a professor of psychology at the University of Toronto, this type of ageism can have a profoundly detrimental impact on the self-perception of older adults. In a study published [ [link removed] ] in Aging and Mental Health, Chasteen and associates wrote of how ageist stereotyping damages the subjective perception a person has of their own aging. Those who experience age stereotypes, age discrimination, or have a negative perception of aging tend to have lower self-esteem, lower life satisfaction and a generally lower mood.
As Chasteen explains: “These forms of ageism can predict more negative, even fearful views older adults have of growing older and can also predict worsened self-perception.” And, interestingly, emerging research is showing that not only does ageism affect the mental health of older adults, but it can have an impact on their actual performance cognitively, especially on memory tests. In other words, what society reflects back to us influences not only how we perceive ourselves, but also how effectively we navigate life’s challenges.
In the United States, which has a particularly youth-centric culture, those who have passed 50 are often viewed with ambivalence or negativity. As a consequence, older people feel increasingly marginalized, either disregarded entirely or disrespected. Women, who are acculturated to deny or disguise their age and are frequently depicted less favorably than men as they age, are particularly susceptible to fears about aging. And vulnerability to ageism in old age is associated demographically with being a woman, living alone, and being in poor health.
How do these attitudes affect society as a whole? Ageist attitudes are devaluing, disempowering and polarizing. When age divisions become more pronounced, it affects how younger people view their own aging process and how well they will adapt to it as time passes. The tension between generations is fueled and intensified by suggestions that older people’s consumption of resources and public services, like Social Security and Medicare, is disproportionate, excessive or detrimental to younger people. This can lead to what might be called “calculated ageism,” [ [link removed] ] where prejudicial beliefs or unfair treatment is rationalized.
For example, in the early days of the pandemic, Dan Patrick, the lieutenant governor of Texas, argued that the United States should “go back to work,” suggesting that grandparents like him should be willing to risk their health, and even die, if it would get the country back on track economically. Although Patrick’s statement was not widely endorsed, it contributed to the perception that anyone over 60 was “expendable” and that they should make way for younger generations. As Ashton Applewhite points out in her pioneering book on ageism, “This Chair Rocks [ [link removed] ],” we must continually challenge a system that values people in terms of their perceived economic productivity instead of their full worth as human beings.
Facebook creator Mark Zuckerberg’s now-infamous comment that “young people are just smarter” is not just bigoted, it is false. It fails to recognize the important contributions older people have made to the world—and not when they were young.
Consider that Julia Child published her first cookbook at age 50, and Noah Webster published his American dictionary at the age of 70. George Burns was still performing at 94, Grandma Moses started painting at 76, and Pablo Picasso was churning out hundreds of engravings at the age of 87. Nelson Mandela was elected president of South Africa at 75, and Susan B. Anthony was over 80 when she formed the International Woman Suffrage Alliance.
Jane Goodall continues to be a tireless advocate for the environment at 90; Warren Buffett is still running his multibillion-dollar businesses at 94; and Henry Kissinger played an active role in public policy debates until his death in 2023 at 100. It may be tempting to think of these as one-offs. If that’s the case, then there have been a helluva lot of one-offs throughout history. It is not uncommon for people in their 60s, 70s, 80s and 90s to run marathons [ [link removed] ], make new discoveries, [ [link removed] ] start successful businesses [ [link removed] ], climb mountains [ [link removed] ] and achieve stardom [ [link removed] ].
Not all cultures devalue their older citizens. Indeed, ageism appears to be a particularly modern and Western phenomenon. Asian and Native American cultures, for instance, respect their elders [ [link removed] ], appreciating their limitations, validating their continued sense of purpose and productivity, and celebrating their longevity.
Aging is not something we choose. Everyone from every corner of the planet will experience it—if they’re lucky. How we think about aging will affect how well we ourselves age and the message we pass on to our children and grandchildren as they move through the phases of their lives.

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