GROWING WHILE DECLINING. A historical overview of the concept of old age (I)

* Presentation at a summer course at the EHU (University of the Basque Country), 2026

TThe Latin term veterus (old) and its derivatives in the Romance languages ​​(viejo, vieux, vecchio…) originate from the Indo-European root wet, meaning year. It was used to designate agricultural produce from the previous year. Yet, there are products that gain quality over the years, and others that do not. Some wines improve with age while others do not, depending on the vintage and the grape variety. Every wine requires years to become “aged”, but the mere passage of time is not enough to achieve that status. The same applies to us—the elderly—regarding the profound quality of life.

Once again, then, we ask ourselves: is it possible to grow while declining? Many older people are indisputable proof that it is, and many sages from every era and culture have affirmed this in their teachings throughout history. It is possible to grow in old age, even amidst the losses that old age entails. Losses themselves can turn into gains, and constraints into freedom. This holds true at every stage of life. While we must learn this at any age, this subject—the most difficult of all—takes on singular importance at our stage of life.

I was asked to present a “historical overview of the concepts of old age.” Last year, I shared reflections on old age from both ancient and contemporary sages. Today, I will broaden the historical scope and the range of testimonies, moving more quickly over what was presented a year ago. In the teachings of those who came before us, we find insights that are always timely and an encouragement that is always necessary—helping us to live, or desire to live, within our own specific circumstances what they lived, or desired to live, within theirs.

I will follow an order that is essentially chronological, yet also geographical. I will limit myself to reading texts and offering brief commentary—aiming more to highlight their message than to explain it. But before moving on to that historical overview, I want to start with a very general preliminary remark regarding the recognition and social role of the elderly in antiquity and in the present day.

1. Stereotypes of old age: past and present

Our culture, language, and the society we live in are rife with negative stereotypes about old age, yet we should not assume this is a new phenomenon. Such stereotypes have always existed in one form or another. It is true that the recognition and authority accorded to the elderly were generally far more prominent in ancient cultures than in our own. Older people held a privileged position within the governing bodies of indigenous cultures and traditional societies—consider the Roman Senate (senatus derives from senex, meaning “old man”) or the councils of elders in ancient and modern Judaism, a tradition inherited by Christian churches (the Greek term presbyter* means “elder” and is still used to designate a priest). However, even where the elderly were acknowledged for their wisdom and authority, old age was also associated with frailty, incapacity, dependency, resistance to change, and so forth (one need only read Roman writers such as Horace [65 BC–8 AD] and Juvenal [60–128 AD]).

What is relatively new is the form these age-old prejudices have taken in the industrial era and in our own times. Industrialization brought a renewed emphasis on economic productivity, speed, and innovation. Today, age discrimination is more closely linked than ever to a loss of productive and market value. Furthermore, mass education and new technologies have caused us older people to lose our traditional monopoly on knowledge across almost every field of expertise: any young person carries a mobile phone in their pocket—for all the downsides that entails—that we barely know how to use, yet which grants them instant access to virtually all contemporary knowledge. I find this overwhelming, though AI threatens to discriminate against and overwhelm us all—young and old alike. That, however, is another story, one that fills me with unease and questions.

We certainly do not miss the old family, political, or religious institutions of the past. Yet, contrary to all social and linguistic stereotypes, we need to reaffirm that every stage of life has its own weight and grace, and that no age is better or worse than any other. And we need to reaffirm this conviction. The age we are living through is—or can be—the best, provided we know how to live it. Now that we are older—indeed, old—it is essential to discover that it is possible, and a source of joy, to learn each day how to live this stage of life with its inevitable losses and its wonderful opportunities.

2. Traditional Chinese wisdom: Confucius and Laozi (5th century BC)

a) Confucius

Confucius’s teachings on ethics, education, and good governance have profoundly influenced the culture, politics, and society of China and all of East Asia for over two thousand years, right up to the present day. These teachings are primarily collected in The Analects (or conversations with his disciples). In them, we read, for example:

“Filial piety and respect for elders are the root of benevolence” (I, 2). Benevolence translates the central term of Confucian ethics and politics: ren; it can also be translated as humanity, goodness, love, empathy, or compassion. Confucius teaches that the root of this fundamental virtue is filial piety and respect for elders. Would that phrase sound right if a teacher were to utter it in their own name in a secondary school or high school  class, or in any university course at the EHU? Confucius would tell us to reflect on that. He would also tell us: “A young person should love their parents when at home and respect elders when away from home” (I, 6).

“Filial piety and respect for elders are the root of benevolence” (I, 2). Benevolence translates the central term of Confucian ethics and politics: ren; it can also be translated as humanity, goodness, love, empathy, or compassion. Confucius teaches that the root of this fundamental virtue is filial piety and respect for elders. Would that phrase sound right if a teacher spoke it in their own name in a secondary school, high school, or university classroom? Confucius would tell us to reflect on this. He would also tell us: “A young person should love their parents when at home and respect elders when away from home” (I, 6).9

“Zilu asked him: ‘And what are your wishes?’ Confucius replied: ‘To give rest to the elderly, trust to friends, and tenderness to the young’ ” (Analects V, 25). Rest. All of us—young and old alike—are lacking in rest. Where are we rushing to, so stressed, and increasingly so? Rest is one of Israel’s fundamental contributions to universal culture: “On the seventh day you shall rest,” and “every seventh year shall be a year of rest” for all (expressly including immigrants, animals, and the land), and “every fiftieth year you shall celebrate a jubilee year,” entailing the freeing of slaves, the forgiveness of all debts, and the return of sold or expropriated lands or properties. We ought to reflect on this too—and perhaps Israel itself should do so before anyone else. From this comes the Latin term jubilum and the Spanish term for retirement: jubilación. Let us, then, learn to seek rest. Let us learn how to rest.

However, Confucius teaches not only how the young ought to conduct themselves toward us—the elderly—but also what is required or expected of us, the older generation. “Confucius said: ‘The superior man guards against three things: when he is young and his blood and vital energy have not yet settled, he guards against lust; when he is in his prime and his blood and vital energy are robust, he guards against contention; when he grows old and his blood and vital energy decline, he guards against covetousness’” (16.7).

b) Laozi

I turn now to the other great ancient Chinese sage, a contemporary of Confucius: Laozi. He is almost certainly a legendary figure, yet this does not diminish in the slightest the value of the teachings attributed to him—teachings gathered in a remarkable little book that is as brief as it is illuminating, filled with imagery and brilliant paradoxes: the Dao De Jing. While old age as such is hardly talked about, it offers profound philosophical and spiritual insights that are undoubtedly valid for all stages of life, yet take on special relevance in old age.

For example: the secret to peace lies in emptying oneself (ch. 16); fullness is attained through renunciation (ch. 48); to grow too much is to age (ch. 55); he who hoards much loses much (ch. 44); he who seeks to hold onto something loses it (ch. 29); nothing is strongerthan a newborn child (ch. 55); the soft and flexible is stronger than the hard and rigid (ch. 10, 28, 79); profound wisdom consists of being like water—which rivals nothing, seeks the lowest place, and thus serves everyone (ch. 8, 66, 78).

Within the Taoist tradition, an entire system of alchemy—inherited from ancient Chinese practices—developed and spread; its aim was to achieve longevity and even immortality through the use of certain substances (such as the famous cinnabar, or mercury sulfide), breathing exercises, or energy practices designed to attain the fullness of vital energy. The Dao De Jing attributed to Laozi makes no mention whatsoever of such practices. Instead, it teaches that to attain fullness or eternity beyond our space and time, there is no other path than the emptying of the ego and the profound transformation that leads us to union with our deepest self—with the eternal, mysterious source of all that exists and all that we are: the eternal Dao. Chapter 16 serves as a fitting example:

The supreme rule is to attain emptiness;
the highest principle is to preserve peace.
Amidst the ceaseless activity of all things,
one beholds their return.
All beings flourish in the midst of agitation,
yet eventually return to their source.
Returning to the source is finding rest.
Rest is the return to one’s true destiny.
To return to one’s true destiny is to be eternal.
To know the eternal is enlightenment.
Not to know the eternal is to walk blindly toward ruin.
He who knows the eternal is patient,
he who is patient is a king,
he who is a king is like Heaven [cosmic order],
he who is like Heaven is one with the Dao,
he who is like the Dao will endure forever,
safe to the end of his life (Ch. 16).

José Arregi, Aizarna, July 29, 2026

www.josearregi.com

(to be continued)