Forget for a moment Joe Biden’s one insurmountable problem. And the not-dissimilar snag for Donald Trump. Ask any footballer aged over 30, jobseeker over 40, female TV presenter over 45, print journalist over 50, chief executive over 64, and judge over 69 this question: “Does ageism exist in your occupation?”
“Is there an expectation that your position, role or performance would be better undertaken, regardless of their ability or inexperience, by someone much younger?”
I think they’d answer yes to having suffered, or to anticipating suffering, Ageism. And felt helpless to fight it, even in an era when most of the other “isms”: racism, sexism, genderism, classism, ableism and heterosexism, are being challenged in the workplace and on the screen. And, in the entertainment and advertising industries, quite flamboyantly confronted. (For example, until TV’s current wave of aristocratic bodice-rippers I didn’t realise there were so many African dukes and duchesses populating the palaces in English history.)
Let’s face it, in Western society most managers prefer younger employees. But some age renegades try to sneak into the ranks. A while ago I mentioned the optimistic Emile Ratelband, a then 69-year-old Dutch “positivity guru and life coach”, who said he looked and felt like a man in his 40s and wanted a court in his hometown of Arnhem to officially agree with him.
Proud of his mind and body, Mr Ratelband sucked in his stomach, adjusted his tan and comb-over, and petitioned to change his birth certificate to declare he was born in 1969 rather than 1949.
“My request is no different from a petition to change my name or gender, which everyone is now doing. It all comes down to free will, because nowadays in Europe and America we are free people,” he stated, citing the prominent global personality whose style he admired most, Donald Trump, 77. (No stranger to the orange hair dye, comb-over, tooth whitener and tanning lamp himself.)
“When I ask women on dates they really prefer me being 49 rather than 69,” Mr Ratelband explained to the court.
“Good try,” said the judges (most probably aged 69 as well). “Sorry.”
Mr Ratelband can count himself lucky he’s not Korean, in which case he’d be even older. Tradition insists babies turn one-year-old the moment they’re born, and two on New Year’s Day. So if you’re born at 11pm on New Year’s Eve you’re aged two in South Korea the second the clock strikes midnight (if only one-hour-old anywhere else). Many South Koreans give both their “Korean age” and “international age”, followed by an explanation that leaves Westerners confused. The origins of the centuries-old system are vague. One theory is that turning one at birth takes into account time spent in the womb – with nine months rounded up to 12. Others link it to an ancient Asian numerical system, also used until relatively recently in China, Japan and North Korea, that didn’t have the concept of zero.
Interestingly, while at the time of writing it seems possible American voters might actually re-elect Trump, then 78 (or Biden, 81) as president next year, in Australia they would be precluded for age reasons from a job at McDonald’s or your local council’s parks and gardens department.
Incidentally, it’s interesting there’s no more war-prone leader than an elderly male politician who, when young, skilfully managed to avoid the military. (Like Trump, Bill Clinton and our own Robert Menzies, who avidly supported conscription in World War I, but not to the point of enlisting.) Psychologists point out that, not surprisingly, we prefer older leaders for stability and younger leaders for change. Most of the best known revolutionary leaders, from Napoleon (aged 30) to Fidel Castro (33) came to power when young. As for leaders in business, whereas most CEOs of the 500 Fortune companies are between 50 and 59 years old, entrepreneurial leaders, especially of tech companies, tend to be considerably younger, with more than half of them younger than 35.
All of which seems complete nonsense when considering the career of the famous American stripper Tempest Storm (born Annie Blanche Banks). More than any other profession, you’d imagine, hers is dependent on youth and its physical advantages.
Her career began in Los Angeles, escaping family abuse at the age of 17, and spanned more than 70 years during which she allegedly had affairs with many celebrities, running the familiar gauntlet from Elvis Presley to JFK (who did go to war), before she stepped down at 77.
Always a workaholic, she then made a comeback and was still performing striptease until she finally dropped the last garment in 2021, aged 93.