Mind the generation gap

Now I’m certainly not considering myself a spring chicken, approaching fast my 60th birthday next week, but I feel reasonably young and dynamic, and still quite in tune with people 15 years younger than me, particularly when I look at the current president of the United States who is not only 74 but also the oldest sitting American president ever and the Democratic party’s candidate for the highest office in the USA at 77. And how does this fit with the median age of the American population being 38.2 years?

You would imagine that running a country is a stressful job, which requires abundant amounts of energy to cope with the long hours and stressful negotiations, not to mention the burden of responsibility of the decisions taken every day. A job description more likely to fit a young or at least ‘youngish’ leader such as Emmanuel Macron rather than Angela Merkel. But, among other qualities, political office also requires a certain amount of experience and maturity to perform well as a seasoned politician or statesman. In this respect it makes certainly sense that the average age of a US Congressman is 57.8 and that the United States Senators have an average age of 61.8. Never mind that both are among the oldest in history. Moreover, Kevin King of Quorum Analytics wrote in November 2017 that the age of the representative of 44 congressional districts was more than double the median age of their constituents. No wonder an ever larger part of the population feels increasingly disenfranchised – and not only in America!

Outside the US the oldest head of state is Queen Elizabeth II at 94 (please note that the Queen is formal head of state but the ability to make and pass legislation resides with the British parliament), followed by Raúl Castro of Cuba (89) and Colville Young (87), the Governor-General of Belize, and inevitably this leads to the question as to when a politician is too old not only to deal with the pressures of office and the merciless attention by the media, but also to be in tune with the aspirations of a population half his age.

David Brooks, an American journalist once said that “we get better at life as we get older”, but does this really apply to politicians as well? And can ‘old’ politicians truly represent a much younger population? According to figures published by The Brookings Institution at the beginning of 2019, 60% of Africa’s 1.25 billion people were under the age of 25, while the median age of their leaders was 62. African heads of state are not exactly known for developing their countries infrastructure and invest in national economic development. According to Transparency International, Nigeria, for example, ranks as the 146th most corrupt country in the world out of 180. There is no guarantee that a younger head of state would be more honest, but President Muhammadu Buhari’s programmes at 77 are probably somewhat ill aligned with the population of a country with a median age of 18.

How can these old men truly represent the ideas and aspirations of a different generation? Outlook on life certainly changes with age and experience, but should politicians make decisions that will affect their much younger constituents for decades to come and often well beyond the lifetime of the decision maker? Take the issue of climate change: our children and grandchildren will suffer the consequences of industrial policies and economic growth at any cost initiated by our parents and just as eagerly pursued by us.

Imagine for a minute if it were a constitutional requirement that the legislative as well as the executive of a country has to match the composition by ethnicity, gender and age of its population: particularly governments in developing nations would be much younger and likely more dynamic. And at the same time women could at last get their voices heard and truly influence decisions in parliaments across the globe.

My son (he is 19) keeps telling me that I am ‘too old’ and out of touch. Maybe he is right, but I think I am still in touch enough to realise that myself.