Bias
Ageism: The Dumbest Ism of Them All
Discriminating against our future selves is next-level stupid.
Posted October 7, 2024 Reviewed by Hara Estroff Marano
Key points
- Other discrimination, while misguided, is directed at other people; ageism is directed at our future selves.
- Ageism celebrates us at our worst and discriminates against us at our best, according to data.
- Sports, celebrity, and careers each contribute uniquely to the false impression that younger is better.
- Younger people lack the power to make ageism a thing; only older people can do that, and they do.
Intellectually speaking, racism is objectively stupid.
Believing that any group of sufficient size can be categorized as having distinct and universal traits ignores the preponderance of scientific data and lived experience.
Those who attempt an intellectual argument supporting racism demonstrate only that they do not understand statistics. Those who are racists because it "feels right" hold up signs celebrating their “superior jeans.” Summa cum pouty.
When people work hard to ignore reality, they do so to fulfill emotional needs. Logic plays no role, which is why people can’t be talked out of racism. (The only cure is being forced to solve problems with members of discriminated groups.)
But at least racism, sexism, and LGBTQ+ discrimination are directed at an “other.” They may be stupid and destructive, but at least they are (psychologically and evolutionarily) understandable.
That’s why ageism is next-level stupid. Because “the other,” in this case, is us. And not far into the future.
Ageism describes a bias against older people as less relevant, worthwhile, or valuable, both in the workplace and culture at large. Unfortunately, ageism becomes a factor about 40 years before cognitive decline, but who’s got time to worry about two-thirds of our adult lives?
But the best demonstration of the absurdity of ageism is its inherent irony: We celebrate ourselves at our worst moment in life and discriminate against ourselves at our best.
That’s not what anyone saw, heard, or experienced, but OK.
“I was the best version of myself in my 20s.”
No one has ever said that, and for good reason. For almost half of our 20s our brains aren’t even fully developed yet
Consider the metrics by which we might evaluate “the best version of myself.” They certainly ought to include happiness or effectiveness. So, what does the data say?
Happiness, relative to age, creates a rectangular U shape curve. The long bottom of the U, at our most unhappy, is between ages 20 and 50. Our 20s have the distinction of being both the most unhappy and the farthest away from happy that we will ever be.
But business doesn’t care about happiness. It cares about productivity, innovation, agility, problem-solving, entrepreneurialism. Surely this must be where young people hold the edge?
Sorry. The average age of a successful startup founder is 45. Thirty-year-old-founders are less likely to succeed than 59-year-olds.
The idea that young people have any advantage in a professional environment is literal fantasy. Twentysomethings are distributed normally. A small percentage are exceptional; most aren’t.
Why are we glamorizing the time in our lives in which we are at our most unhappy and least effective, while discriminating against our happiest and most effective selves? There are three surprisingly obvious answers.
Sports, Celebrity, and Career
The availability heuristic describes how whatever is top of mind influences our thinking, powerfully yet unconsciously. For most Americans, what’s top of mind are sports, celebrity, and career.
Sports fans embed themselves in cultures where 35 years old is ancient. That pro sport represents the tiniest sliver of life gets no consideration. The athletes tell us they became much better people later in life, more likely to succeed in any other environment. But we don’t hear them because we’re watching the game.
Fame and celebrity play similar mind tricks, confusing novelty with youth. People naturally yearn for something new in pop culture but have been unnaturally conditioned to expect that “new” means “young.” There is more than enough evidence that audiences are willing to embrace “new” talent across the age spectrum, but the overwhelming mainstream supply of young artists ensures that the false stereotype persists.
And in corporate America, age means tenure means salary. As a result, people are often laid off at the peak of their professional powers, because the lower quality of work is ostensibly justified by the lower expense of a younger replacement.
Were this true, it would reflect on the job, not the person. If a job can’t handle tenured salary growth, it’s poorly designed.
But it’s not true. Studies repeatedly show that organizations undervalue the skill and knowledge of older workers. If assessed correctly, their formulas would tell them something very different.
Sports, celebrity, and careers create an illusion transmuted into a generally accepted belief; we accept that “young is better” despite the fact that we all know it isn’t true.
The Butler Did It
The final indignity of the stupidity of ageism is the generally accepted belief that young people are responsible for it. News flash: Young people do not have the power to make ageism a thing. Only old people can do that.
Every time a 50-something asks for special recognition for keeping up with younger colleagues, they make ageism a thing.
Every time older people blame their inability to connect with younger people on the age difference rather than on their own inadequacies, they make ageism a thing.
Every “30 under 30” and “50 over 50” make ageism a thing, and it isn’t 20-somethings greenlighting those projects. (You don’t fight stigma by calling attention to it; you perpetuate stigma that way.)
But the most insidious reality of ageism comes from corporate layoffs that target older workers because of compensation. Nothing is more damaging to adult lives, and those decisions are not made by young people.
Don’t get me wrong: Young people, like anyone else, are capable of atrocious behavior in the workplace. But it is of no consequence. If, as adults, we can’t handle that obnoxiousness with grace, humor, and efficacy, that’s on us.
The real question that adults have to answer is this, “Why are we doing this to each other?”
That answer, unfortunately, involves human nature, status, and fear. Which means that the only solution is to talk about it, loudly and often. It’s much harder for people to behave indefensibly when you point it out.