The Marketing of Old Age

 I’ve been reading a provocative book called Never Say Die: The Myth and Marketing of the New Old Age by Susan Jacoby (2011). Jacoby calls attention to an anti-aging media blitz that has been going on since the 1990s, a marketing of longevity that gives the idea that with good nutrition, exercise, etc., we can control how we age. Successful aging describes someone who has no complaints, no experience of prolonged grief, no need for nostalgia, and no loneliness, depression or fear of dependency. The author calls this the “new old age” and critiques what she calls “the cult of longevity” for its lack of realism and refusal to face eventual diminishment and death.

Jacoby identifies several cultural “myths” that make up the “cult of longevity”: 1) the claims of the health industry that the old can live “forever” if they live right and think positively; 2) the implications of the biomedical business that they are rapidly approaching a cure for old age; 3) the nostalgic idea that in the past Americans honored the elderly; and 4) the idea that older is necessarily wiser. The author spends most of the book busting these myths.

I recognize much of what Jacoby is talking about as I see TV advertisements featuring the elderly (and directing their marketing to this sizeable public). The people in the ads represent the “new old,” people in their 60s, 70s, and into their mid-80s. They are beautiful, well-groomed and clothed, going on cruises, playing catch with their grandkids (also beautiful), and behaving romantically with their beautiful elderly consorts. I remember one ad several years ago—for impotence, I think—that ended with an older couple seated in matching bathtubs placed in a meadow, with romantic music matching the glorious sunset. I wondered what those tubs were doing out in the field and how they managed to fill them with water. Bucket by bucket?

Here’s how Jacoby describes the actual state of the elderly as they transition out of the “young old” stage:

“Maintaining a sense of dignity and a sense of purpose in the final stages of life is, however, much more complicated than simply picking the right place to live and hoping for good health—or good enough health—to be of use in society. For too many Americans like my grandmother, old age—especially advanced old age—means a sharp and unwanted transition from a sense of themselves as people valued by family and community to a diminished sense of themselves as burdens who serve no purpose. It is a shift from active to passive, from being a caretaker to being a care recipient, from independence to dependence, and it is experienced as a personal loss at the deepest internal level, regardless of outer circumstances.”

Jacoby claims that the “cult of longevity” is dangerous because it interferes with the reality that as the old keep growing older, the difficulties increase. The two real problems of old age in the United States are health, which will inevitably worsen over time, and economics—all but the richest will grow poorer as they grow older. A rosy view of aging interferes with the need to “deal pragmatically with…the issues.” She critiques the Christian hope of heaven as interference with reality. Jacoby self-identifies as a “serious atheist.”

I think this is an important book and I learned a lot about contemporary American attitudes toward aging. Much of her critique is spot-on. And yet….

When we moved into this retirement community, someone gave us a copy of the book, The Gift of Years: Growing Older Gracefully by Joan Chittister (2008). Susan Jacoby would probably class Sister Chittister among the unrealistic who claim that old age is “the last of life for which the first was made” (to quote Robert Browning). It certainly gives a positive take on the purpose and satisfaction one can find in the final stages of life. While I find good information and thought-provoking ideas in Never Say Die, I discover wisdom in The Gift of Years.

So, I ask—Is it possible to approach the retirement years with a sense of optimism, determined to seek appropriate adventures, learn new things, cultivate relationships, experiment with our creativity, and affirm life while, at the same time, facing the challenges old age inevitably brings? Can we bravely admit that each year the adventures will grow fewer, our minds work more slowly, loved ones die, and body parts begin to fail? Can we say the word, death?

Yes, I think so. The verse I’ve placed at the top of my blog site is from Psalm 92: “Those who follow God will flourish like a palm tree; they will grow like a cedar of Lebanon…. They will still bear fruit in old age; they will stay fresh and green.” It takes faith to affirm this, and that’s what I choose to do. Our belief that this life is not the final word makes a huge difference in how we face any hardships that come. Advanced old age will not be easy, but palm trees and cedars flourish in harsh climates.

I chose not to identify with the beautiful “new old” whose image is being sold to us, along with the products that claim to make it possible. I have no immediate plans to talk Hal into joining me in matching bathtubs out in some farmer’s field. Even so, I can still accept this time of life as a gift from God, to be both stewarded and enjoyed. And I can face the future with courage, knowing nothing can separate me from the love of God

I’d love to read a critique of American cultural views of aging written from the standpoint of faith. Maybe there is such a book out there somewhere. Let me know.