Honour in Age

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It is a strange thing, the way society treats its elders, as though age itself were an affliction to be avoided at all costs. We parade the young and the vigorous before us, celebrating their energy and ambition, while quietly shuffling the old to the margins, as if their time had passed and they had nothing more to offer. But this, like so many assumptions we hold, is not only cruel but deeply mistaken.

For there was a time, not so long ago, when age was seen as a badge of honour. The older generation, having weathered the storms of life, were respected not in spite of their years, but because of them. The wrinkles on their faces, the slow stoop of their backs—these were the marks of wisdom hard-earned, lessons learned in a world where survival was not guaranteed. They had known hardship, sacrifice, and perseverance in ways the young cannot yet comprehend.

Yet now, in our frantic chase after youth, we have forgotten the value of experience. We treat the elderly as though they were a burden—shutting them away in homes, dismissing their opinions as “out of touch,” and pretending, all the while, that we shall never grow old ourselves. In our self-absorption, we have stripped them of the very dignity they deserve.

The truth is that age demands our respect, not our pity. For it is the older generation who have laid the foundations upon which we now build our lives. Without their labour, their resilience, we would have nothing. And what a bitter irony it is that those who have given us everything are now treated as though they have nothing left to give.

The measure of a society, it has often been said, lies in how it treats its weakest members. I would add that its soul is revealed in how it honours those who came before. If we cannot respect the old, then we are no better than animals.

Andrew McKean