Bernard Salt: Should there be an age limit for our world leaders?
Unlike many other jobs, today’s world leaders seem happy to take leadership’s hard yards well into their seventies. But if 60 was the cut-off, who would make the Bernard Bunch?
Does the age of a world leader affect their ability to interact with other world leaders? Whenever I see footage of the G7 or some other world-leader event I wonder if amid the general throng there’s a pecking order based on age. Or does it come down to “my GDP’s bigger than your GDP”?
US President Donald Trump is 79, and while I find much of what he says blustery, I have to say I’m impressed by how well he moves. He walks up and down stairs effortlessly, even letting go of the handrail occasionally.
On the campaign trail last year, when he was especially pleased with himself (which was often), he would break into a little dance.
Do you think he does pilates? Or maybe it’s just that the bar for presidential mobility was set inordinately low by his predecessor.
Being the oldest and most experienced leader at a global forum might deliver the advantage of self-confidence. But then perhaps the process of getting to the top in a leadership contest weeds out all the self-doubters, so that only the most self-assured make it to the top.
China’s Xi Jinping and Russia’s Vladimir Putin are both 72. Australia’s Sir Robert Menzies was 71 when he retired from office in 1966. Clearly, more half a century ago Menzies thought that was the right time to write his memoirs, take up a university chancellorship and enjoy the company of his grandchildren.
But today’s world leaders seem happy to take leadership’s hard yards well into their seventies.
It seems there isn’t an established pathway to retirement’s golden years for autocrats. I can’t see Xi or Putin, for example, handing over the reins and wandering off to host family dinners, write their memoirs (to “set the record straight”) and take up the role of chancellor at a noteworthy university. Especially with all the talk of a looming superpower conflict. It remains to be seen how Xi’s and Putin’s final years play out.
Excluding Barack Obama (now 63), today’s older cohort of retired US presidents is conveniently less active. This means they’re less likely to be floating around offering untethered commentary. Although I cannot imagine a retired Donald Trump remaining silent on a range of matters in his mid-eighties.
High-profile prime ministers who leave office at a relatively young age have a lot to offer.
Britain’s Tony Blair left office aged 54 in 2007; eventually he founded a global think tank. New Zealand’s Jacinda Ardern left office at 42; she accepted a fellowship at Harvard. Paul Keating left office at the age of 52; he started his own consultancy.
There was a time when Australia’s state premiers happily wafted off into retirement after serving their term of office. It was a career path that publicly suggested nothing topped being premier. Today, however, the role of premier seems to be little more than a dot-point in a wide-ranging CV.
There’s a time in the life cycle, and generally I think it’s around the 60-mark, when prime ministers don’t bother to look for work options when their time comes.
And so, no matter what we think of our political system, we rightly offer our political leaders the opportunity to live a long, happy and safe retirement. That’s not always an option in some parts of the world.
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