Should there be an age limit for politicians?
US academic Sarah Kreps weighs the question of setting political age limits, reflecting that for world leaders, the stakes are too high to risk implementation by someone facing age-related decline. On the other hand, the deterioration of mind and body is non-linear, relative and dynamic. What middle ground can there be?
Until this summer, the US had had an election between two individuals who were born before the start of the Cold War. President Joseph Biden has since dropped out, but the process of his own party leadership nudging him aside for someone younger, who could energise the political space, brought its own concerns about fairness. Voters had elected Biden in the primaries; party elders had anointed Kamala Harris.
The grass looks considerably greener abroad, with individuals like President Emmanuel Macron of France, former Prime Minister Sanna Marin of Finland and Prime Minister Paetongtarn Shinawatra of Thailand, all in their youthful yet experienced prime, representing a new generation with a fresh perspective.
Ideally, younger candidates would emerge naturally, but what about term limits to hedge against the scenario when they do not? Especially in an era of enormous technological change in artificial intelligence, biotechnology and cyber warfare, where leaders should be both physically and mentally fit, is it time to consider age limits?
The case for age limits in leadership
The argument for age limits suggests that the key for ensuring that those in positions of immense power is to guarantee that individuals are physically and mentally fit to handle the demands of the job. The rationale is clear: the stakes are too high to risk implementation by someone facing age-related decline.
In the US military, age limits are set because the roles require quick reflexes, sharp decision-making skills and the ability to withstand the stresses of combat. The retirement age is 62 and the maximum age for initial accession is 42 (with the assumption of a 20-year career and waivers authorised to the age of 45). The age limits have changed over time (most recently from 39 years old to 42 for initial recruitment) as a combination of health and service needs have changed.
The system is not naturally correcting itself to select younger leaders but rather seems to be dominated by septuagenarians and octogenarians.
If the military stakes are high, the role of commander-in-chief, or president, is the highest, which raises the question of why age limits would exist for the military in general but not the highest position in political leadership. The president is ultimately responsible for everything from a possible nuclear strike to understanding and regulating Artificial Intelligence to processing the implications of new technologies like quantum or cyber technologies.
Perhaps more fundamental than understanding new technologies, the president has enormous cognitive and logistical pressures, having to travel constantly, hold meetings late into the night, and to be sharp in communicating with the public (both domestic and foreign audiences) in a 24/7 news cycle.
Yet as the US political landscape suggests, individuals do not seem to be gracefully exiting into retirement. Ruth Bader Ginsburg died while serving as a Supreme Court justice, leading to a contentious replacement that handed a seat to a Republican-appointed judge. The median age of a US senator is over 65 years old, higher than the age limit for someone in the US military. And until this summer, the two ages of the US presidential candidates were 78 and 81 years of age. Senate Majority Leader Charles Schumer is 73 years old. Long-time (though no longer) House Speaker Nancy Pelosi is 84 years old, and Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell is 82 years old. The system is not naturally correcting itself to select younger leaders but rather seems to be dominated by septuagenarians and octogenarians.
The case against age limits: wisdom and experience
On the other hand, the case against age limits is that it is not just about quick decision-making or the ability to adapt to new technologies; it is also about wisdom, experience and the ability to see the bigger picture. Older leaders bring with them decades of experience, a deep understanding of history and the ability to navigate complex political landscapes. They have lived through different eras and can draw on this experience to inform their decisions.
Winston Churchill, for example, was 65 when he became prime minister of the UK during World War II (when the life expectancy was around 63), and he is widely regarded as one of the greatest leaders of the 20th century.
Moreover, age can bring a certain level of detachment and objectivity that younger leaders may lack. Older leaders may be less swayed by the latest trends or public opinion, and more focused on long-term goals and the greater good. In times of crisis, this level-headedness can be invaluable.
Winston Churchill, for example, was 65 when he became prime minister of the UK during World War II (when the life expectancy was around 63), and he is widely regarded as one of the greatest leaders of the 20th century. Setting an age limit could exclude some of the most capable and experienced leaders simply because they have reached a certain age, depriving the country of valuable leadership at a time when it is most needed.
Relatedly, senescence is non-linear, relative and dynamic. Some 75-year-olds are in fine physical and mental shape, others are not. Some 75 year olds are fine one year and in steep decline the next. Furthermore, just as the Churchill example suggests, lifespan has changed considerably in several decades, such that determining a flexible, dynamic age that changes with changes in societal life expectancy would present challenges.
Balancing vitality and wisdom: a middle ground?
The debate raises a conundrum. The electoral process exists so that citizens can make their own decision about whether a particular candidate is mentally fit for office, voting someone out when they judge that someone is no longer equipped for the tasks.
Furthermore, not everyone declines at the same rate or age, making the prospect of assigning an age limit arbitrary and blunt in ways that could rule out experienced and both mentally and physically fit individuals. At the same time, the demands of the job in an era of rapid technological and battlefield change are not trivial.
A different tack would be to focus on a form of succession planning, the cultivation of a generation of younger political leaders.
One possible solution could be to implement regular health and cognitive assessments for leaders, rather than setting a strict age limit. These assessments could help ensure that leaders are fit to serve, regardless of their age, and could be part of a broader set of checks and balances to maintain the integrity of leadership. Both Trump and Biden have had these assessments, but given the politicised nature of the current landscape, it is not surprising that these have ended up being prone to conspiracy theorising amid extreme confidentiality.
A different tack would be to focus on a form of succession planning, the cultivation of a generation of younger political leaders. The intense media scrutiny has had the effect of discouraging many qualified younger people from going into politics, but re-incorporating civic education into school curricula could emphasise the importance of political participation. Mentorships where seasoned politicians and civil servants mentor young people could help build networks and teach the nuances and impact of political life.
Policy, of course, is about tradeoffs. Any solutions also create problems. Sometimes the best answer is either the status quo, with its evident flaws, or a set of policies that are innocuous and even favourable — such as mentoring, networking and teaching civics — even if they do not achieve the narrowly defined goal of lowering the age of elected leaders.
