A few months ago, Ezekiel Emanuel had an essay in The Atlantic
saying that, all things considered, he’d prefer to die around age 75. He argued
that he’d rather clock out with all his powers intact than endure a sad, feeble
decline.
The problem is that if Zeke dies at 75, he’ll likely be missing his
happiest years. When researchers ask people to assess their own well-being,
people in their 20s rate themselves highly. Then there’s a decline as people
get sadder in middle age, bottoming out around age 50. But then happiness
levels shoot up, so that old people are happier than young people. The people
who rate themselves most highly are those ages 82 to 85.
Psychologists who study this now famous U-Curve tend to point out that
old people are happier because of changes in the brain. For example, when you
show people a crowd of faces, young people unconsciously tend to look at the
threatening faces but older people’s attention gravitates toward the happy
ones.
Older people are more relaxed, on average. They are spared some of the
burden of thinking about the future. As a result, they get more pleasure out of
present, ordinary activities.
My problem with a lot of the research on happiness in old age is that it
is so deterministic. It treats the aging of the emotional life the way you
might treat the aging of the body: as this biological, chemical and
evolutionary process that happens to people.
I’d rather think that elder happiness is an accomplishment, not a
condition, that people get better at living through effort, by mastering
specific skills. I’d like to think that people get steadily better at handling
life’s challenges. In middle age, they are confronted by stressful challenges
they can’t control, like having teenage children. But, in old age, they have
more control over the challenges they will tackle and they get even better at
addressing them.
Aristotle teaches us that being a good person is not mainly about
learning moral rules and following them. It is about performing social roles
well — being a good parent or teacher or lawyer or friend.
It’s easy to think of some of the skills that some people get better at
over time.
First, there’s bifocalism, the ability to see the same situation from
multiple perspectives. Anthony Kronman of Yale Law School once wrote, “Anyone
who has worn bifocal lenses knows that it takes time to learn to shift smoothly
between perspectives and to combine them in a single field of vision. The same
is true of deliberation. It is difficult to be compassionate, and often just as
difficult to be detached, but what is most difficult of all is to be both at
once.” Only with experience can a person learn to see a fraught situation both
close up, with emotional intensity, and far away, with detached perspective.
Then there’s lightness, the ability to be at ease with the downsides of
life. In their book, “Lighter as We Go,” Jimmie Holland and Mindy Greenstein
(who is a friend from college) argue that while older people lose memory they
also learn that most setbacks are not the end of the world. Anxiety is the
biggest waste in life. If you know that you’ll recover, you can save time and
get on with it sooner.
“The ability to grow lighter as we go is a form of wisdom that entails
learning how not to sweat the small stuff,” Holland and Greenstein write,
“learning how not to be too invested in particular outcomes.”
Then there is the ability to balance tensions. In “Practical Wisdom,”
Barry Schwartz and Kenneth Sharpe argue that performing many social roles means
balancing competing demands. A doctor has to be honest but also kind. A teacher
has to instruct but also inspire. You can’t find the right balance in each
context by memorizing a rule book. This form of wisdom can only be earned by
acquiring a repertoire of similar experiences.
Finally, experienced heads have intuitive awareness of the landscape of
reality, a feel for what other people are thinking and feeling, an instinct for
how events will flow. In “The Wisdom Paradox,” Elkhonon Goldberg details the
many ways the brain deteriorates with age: brain cells die, mental operations
slow. But a lifetime of intellectual effort can lead to empathy and pattern
awareness. “What I have lost with age in my capacity for hard mental work,”
Goldberg writes, “I seem to have gained in my capacity for instantaneous,
almost unfairly easy insight.”
It’s comforting to know that, for many, life gets happier with age. But
it’s more useful to know how individuals get better at doing the things they
do. The point of culture is to spread that wisdom from old to young; to put
that thousand-year-heart in a still young body.
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