Do not go gentle into that good night. The famous Dylan Thomas lines inspired by the poet’s dying father should serve as a message to every aged person in the country and encourage them to “rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
Rage? You bet. In fact, I’m fuming daily about how the older generation are treated in this country. And a report just published by MPs is on my side, declaring that Britain suffers from a “pervasively ageist culture” in which older people are being discriminated against in the workplace, the media and in access to vital public services.
The report criticises depictions of baby boomers – those born between 1946 and 1964 and now in their 60s and 70s – as either frail or enjoying a life of luxury at the expense of their children and grandchildren.
Apparently, we “wealth-hoarding boomers” are living comfortable lives in homes we own, while the struggling younger generation can’t get on the housing ladder and are barely surviving on low incomes, bless ’em.
The truth is, they are not badly off compared to when I was young; they just want everything earlier, more easily, and, if they don’t get it, sulk into their £15 cocktails. They feel entitled to the things my generation had to work damned hard for. We expected nothing, and nothing came easily. It still doesn’t.
The reality is far from the perception. Having hit state pension age last November, I am supposedly a boomer. But I don’t own my own house and will have to work until I die just to survive.
While I don’t complain about that (I love my work as a writer and will happily do it until I drop), there are many who will not be able to work (owing to ill health, looking after sick relatives, lack of jobs) and will struggle.
I am currently in rented accommodation that I can’t afford to heat. I spend my days with one eye on the screen in my job as a TV critic and another on the smart meter that just informed me that yesterday I spent £13.46 on gas and electricity. How did I manage that? In one day? I heated half a tin of Heinz tomato soup that I ate under one lightbulb. I’m going out to buy a torch later.
The report also highlights stereotypes in the media and advertising.
You’re telling me. Have you seen the TV commercials aimed at my generation? For every TV ad encouraging me to save a sad dog or donkey, there are half a dozen encouraging me to prepare for death.
If you’re not planning for your funeral, there are plenty of suggestions about things that might slightly help your long and arduous journey to death’s door. Tablets for my pain, pads for my feet, contraptions the size of elephant feet to keep my legs warm when the smart meter flips past “Budget for the week exceeded” on day three. Oh, the joys of getting older, as presented by the media, compounded by rising energy costs for which you no longer receive any compensation.
Caroline Abrahams, charity director at Age UK, says that ageism has become “so normalised” that younger people do “not even recognise it” and that older people feel “belittled”.
It’s something I feel regularly, even though I am currently based in Wales, which has a dedicated older people’s commissioner and a national strategy.
There have been concerted efforts to get older people out of the house, offering free classes that encourage social interaction. It’s something, but it doesn’t change the perception of the public at large.
For me, there is one simple reason for this. Respect. Lack of.
I have lived in Paris, Los Angeles, New York, various parts of Spain, and in all those places there is greater respect paid to older people than there is in Britain.
In the USA, for example, there is a hunger to learn from those who can bring something different to the table. Of course, there are areas where ageism still flourishes – Hollywood, being the most obvious – but I have always found there, as an older woman, respect for my life experience and work background.
In Paris (where I still regularly visit), I am not treated like a social leper and consigned to a seat next to the toilet in a restaurant; always, there is a solicitousness that I have simply never found in Britain. “Another one?” I’m regularly asked here, if I order a second or, heaven forbid, a third glass of wine. In Paris, they are practically hooking me up to the vine when there’s an inch left at the bottom of a glass. Never in Paris do I feel under the patronising gaze of “Aw, well done you for getting out of the house.”
There is better health care for the elderly in Spain and France; Bulgaria offers free healthcare to seniors. Yes, the UK has the NHS, but how many die while on a waiting list?
Apparently, older people with a positive perception of getting older live on average 7.5 years longer than those whose perceptions were more negative.
Living longer? That’s the last thing Britain wants for its elderly, so it’s hard to stay positive here when prejudice is all around. Let’s hope this report paves the way for some change.
We’re not dead yet. Live with it.
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