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Most people don’t like to talk about age in politics, but when the people are writing laws, handling classified intelligence briefings and negotiating trillion-dollar budgets that are well past the traditional retirement age, ignoring the conversation doesn’t make it exactly disappear 

The United States Congress is older than it has ever been, according to Quorum. The average age in the Senate is 59, which is 17 years older than the average American worker, who is typically between 40 and 42 years old. Many members who are a part of the Congress seats serve well into their 70s and 80s, long after most of their constituents have left the workforce. Experience does matter, but institutional memory matters, and cognitive science also matters in this conversation.

Many people are wondering why this matters. It matters because people like Sen. Susan Collins plan to run for reelection again when she is nearly 80, and the reaction has not been limited to party politics. Her decision has revived a broader issue Congress continues to avoid: when age becomes a legitimate concern for serving in the Senate.

Serving in the Senate isn’t exactly ceremonial, as many lawmakers are expected to absorb thousands upon thousands of pages of legislation. They respond rapidly to global crises, sit through classified briefings and negotiate under intense political and public pressure, which is bad for an aging society of congressional representatives.

There’s really no age limit for a run for office, and we see plenty of senators serve well into their later years. Just look at Sen. Mitch McConnell, who had a freezing episode during a press conference that raised a lot of questions about cognitive health and whether we’re being transparent in leadership. It’s not just something to worry about for political rivals, it’s a concern that crosses party lines. When a senior lawmaker freezes in public, it makes you wonder about the abilities of our older senators.

Research from the National Institute on Aging shows that certain cognitive abilities your brain has, particularly processing information, working memory and reaction time, tend to decline later in adulthood. That doesn’t mean that every older adult is impaired, but it does mean that the probability of decline increases with age. In a profession where decisions affect millions of people in real time, the subtle slowdowns of the brain matter. 

What is even more disturbing is that airline pilots and active duty military officers are both professions where cognitive sharpness is tied to the public’s safety and are usually forced to retire. Congressional representatives do not have a limit like this. Elections are filters, but they don’t determine the neurological health of the candidates. Campaign ads don’t measure processing speed, and incumbency advantages often make it very difficult to gain traction, regardless of concerns about age. And a lot of the public is pretty concerned about this, according to Polling by YouGov. They found that a majority of American citizens support some sort of system for determining if elected officials are too old to serve. 

This issue isn’t about targeting Susan Collins or any senator, really. It’s about an institution that continues to age without questioning whether it should. Leadership roles have national consequences, and we need to consider mental sharpness as a necessity, not just an option, for senators. At some point, experience alone is no longer sufficient; biology and age do not take seniority or job status into account. Therefore, the American people shouldn’t either. 

If Congress expects us to trust the Senate with war powers, budgets and the future of a country built on youthful ideals, then it can address basic questions about cognitive fitness. Avoiding this conversation doesn’t improve the situation; it actually makes it worse.

Democracy doesn’t just deserve experienced leaders; it also deserves capable ones.


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