Can Mexico Survive the Aging Apocalypse?

By the time you're 60, you might imagine a golden age of relaxation and blissful retirement. But as Ana Gabriela Núñez Pérez, Director of the Center for Social Studies and Public Opinion (CESOP), vividly points out, it might not be so simple. The Mexican government, swaying between promises and policies, has recently expanded its universal pension program. Sounds great, right? Hold your applause.

As Núñez articulates, the much-needed approval of a Care System remains a glaringly unaddressed gap. Behind this lies a deeper question: Can Mexico’s social safety net stretch to cover not just the elderly but the upcoming generations as well? And with an aging population and shrinking youth labor force, are we standing on a demographic seesaw, teetering on the edge?

Flashback to when the pension system was first conceived. The wise policymakers of yore envisioned a scenario where most people would retire at 60 and then, with luck, might coast along for another few years, collecting their pensions like little tokens of appreciation from society. But, as Núñez reminds us, that vision now seems almost quaint. Today, 60 is the new 40, and it's not uncommon for people to live another 30 years—far more vibrant than the architects of early pension plans ever imagined.

Here’s the catch: not everyone benefits equally from this windfall of longevity. While some are fortunate enough to still be active and engaged, others face an old age that is starkly different—dependent on government transfers (hello, 65+ program) or the kindness of children and relatives who may be juggling their own precarious lives. In Núñez’s words, “Precarious youth make precarious old age,” a haunting truth that many would prefer to ignore.

The issue here is twofold: aging itself is multifaceted. You can have one 70-year-old running marathons, and another unable to get out of bed. These different realities are shaped by a lifetime of experiences, and the choices we make early on ripple through to our later years. Old age, then, is not just a single chapter, but a number of stories shaped by the conditions of youth, health, and access to resources.

In Mexico, like in many countries, the resources available to fund these social programs are constantly lagging behind the growing demand. As Núñez points out, we face a classic “Rob Peter to pay Paul” situation. Young people entering the workforce today are expected to shoulder the tax burden that will fund these programs. Simple enough, right? Not quite.

The so-called demographic bonus (when the working-age population outnumbers the dependents) is slowly running out of steam. With declining birth rates and fewer people entering the workforce, the generational pyramid that once supported a thriving economy has started to tip precariously. And, as Núñez observes with some trepidation, this inversion of the pyramid means fewer young workers and more elderly dependents—creating a rather tricky equation when it comes to maintaining social services.

The working youth population is shrinking, and to make matters more complicated, many young people are choosing to forgo parenthood. Less youth, fewer children—this means fewer future taxpayers, fewer future caretakers. At this point, you might be imagining a society where grannies and grandpas rule the streets while the few young adults left scramble to keep things running.

Let’s fast-forward into this future. What happens when the tax base shrinks, but the demands on social services grow? Núñez raises an important point: where will the burden of wealth creation fall? If fewer young people are generating wealth, how can the system sustain the growing number of elderly citizens who depend on state pensions and healthcare?

It’s a cycle as delicate as a Rube Goldberg machine, where one small shift could send the whole contraption crashing. If youth are already precarious in their livelihoods, how can they be expected to prop up an aging population without falling into precarity themselves?

For Núñez, the solution lies in addressing the issue at every stage of life—creating social policies that support individuals not just in their golden years but throughout their lives. The message is clear: it’s time to stop viewing old age as a standalone issue and start looking at how the inequalities and challenges of youth set the stage for a precarious old age.

If the state can step in with thoughtful legislation that provides stability from youth through to retirement, perhaps we can start to turn the tide. But this will require an honest confrontation with the structural realities: job creation, labor market participation, childcare, and, yes, a bold reimagining of the tax structure. Until then, the precarious balance between youth and old age, taxes and transfers, work and rest, remains in limbo.

Inverted Demographic Pyramid

Picture the population as a pyramid. Traditionally, youth formed the wide base, while the elderly made up the narrow tip. Yet, today, that pyramid is undergoing an unsettling inversion. If our grandparents juggled six or seven children, modern families typically opt for two. And where young people once dominated the lower ranks of the demographic structure, the pyramid is now widening at the top. Currently, 14 million older adults constitute roughly 11% of the population, and this number is only expected to rise. By 2030, the proportion of elderly adults will approach that of children under 15.

This shift signals the end of what economists call the "demographic bonus." This period—characterized by a population where working-age individuals vastly outnumber the young and elderly dependents—has been a key driver of economic growth. But as the population ages, this bonus is rapidly eroding, raising critical questions about economic sustainability and the future of social security.

But there’s a more insidious factor at play: precarious youth create precarious old age. Youth, it turns out, isn’t just a time for personal growth and exploration—it’s also the moment when the seeds of future economic stability are sown. Or not. Núñez argues that the precariousness experienced by today’s youth—particularly in employment—directly translates into instability in their later years.

Many young people today work in informal or unstable jobs, often earning less than the national average income. For those who live paycheck to paycheck, contributing to family expenses and sacrificing personal savings, the future can feel more like a daunting cliff than a wide-open horizon. And when these young people age, they’ll likely find themselves in the same precarious conditions—working informal jobs with no access to social security benefits or pensions.

A striking detail Núñez highlights is that 70% of older adults currently work in the informal sector, where they can’t hope for a pension or significant benefits. If this trajectory continues, today’s youth may face a similarly grim outlook.

For young women, this precarious future can be even more devastating. Núñez is quick to note the gendered dimensions of this crisis. While boys may struggle to find formal employment, many young women face school dropout, exclusion from the labor market, and the expectation of unpaid caregiving roles. This sets them up for a future where, in old age, they’re even more economically marginalized.

Many elderly women today reach old age having depended on partners, family members, or income from informal work. While this has always been a challenging dynamic, the extended life expectancy—stretching now from 65-70 years to 80-85—has made it even more pressing. An additional 20 years of economic precarity is not a pleasant prospect.

For women, the burden of unpaid care work compounds the issue. Society still leans heavily on women for childrearing and caregiving roles, further pulling them away from formal employment and economic independence. By the time they enter old age, many have spent their lives in the informal sector or out of the workforce entirely, leaving them vulnerable and dependent. And with a growing elderly population, there are fewer working-age family members to fall back on for support.

The stats speak volumes: most employed people over 60 are self-employed, and only a small fraction enjoy formal employment with benefits. This reality is particularly acute in countries where informal employment dominates. In this environment, many older adults—left without pensions—rely on small, often erratic income streams from the informal market and whatever meager government transfers are available.

This reliance on the informal economy is a ticking time bomb. Informal jobs lack security, benefits, and stability, and there’s no safety net if things go wrong. When you combine this with an aging population, the potential for social unrest looms large. It’s not hard to imagine a future where millions of older adults, with no formal savings or support systems, face dire economic straits.

Addressing these challenges requires immediate action. First, formal employment opportunities must be created for young people from the outset. If today’s youth can access secure jobs early in life, they’ll be better positioned for stable, dignified old age. The need for structural reform is pressing—especially when it comes to women, who face unique challenges in the labor market. As Núñez points out, if women continue to be sidelined in this way, the economic disparity will deepen, and the future will be even bleaker for them.

But it’s not just about jobs. The inverted demographic pyramid forces us to reconsider how we think about aging, pensions, and social security. The old models won’t hold up under this new reality. Governments must reevaluate their social safety nets, ensuring that today’s workers—particularly those in informal sectors—have access to retirement savings plans, pensions, and healthcare in their later years.

Aging in a Shifting World

The International Monetary Fund (IMF) predicts a profound demographic transformation. Between 2015 and 2050, the average global age is expected to jump from 27.4 to 40.9 years. Life expectancy at birth, meanwhile, is also projected to climb—from 76.7 years in 2015 to 83.1 years by 2050. These numbers reflect two long-standing trends: declining fertility rates since the 1960s and a steady reduction in mortality rates. But these figures alone tell only part of the story.

Living longer, as Ana Gabriela emphasizes, brings with it a complex set of challenges that stretch across public health, social equity, and economic sustainability. "Are we prepared to become old with dignity?" she asks, with a sense of urgency. Unfortunately, the current landscape suggests we are far from ready.

The modern scourge of lifestyle diseases—diabetes, hypertension, obesity—has deeply entangled the dream of a graceful, active old age. Many older adults face a kind of paradox: living longer, yet in compromised health. "These conditions prevent us from reaching an active old age that works," Ana Gabriela laments. By "works," she doesn't mean exploitation but the opportunity for older adults to continue contributing to society, on their own terms, as active participants rather than passive bystanders confined to their homes.

And herein lies the crux of the issue. There are many older adults who, despite physical and economic struggles, continue to play pivotal roles in their families—acting as caregivers for grandchildren or even supporting their adult children. Yet this work often goes unrecognized and unpaid. The result? A sizable proportion of elderly individuals find themselves excluded from the possibility of living with financial independence and a fulfilling quality of life.

According to studies by CESOP (Centro de Estudios Sociales y de Opinión Pública), a significant proportion of older adults are engaged in unpaid domestic work. Of those aged 60 to 69, 55 percent are still involved in household chores. Even among those 80 and above, 9 percent continue to do unpaid work at home. This reality paints a picture of old age that is not "inactive," as stereotypes would have us believe, but rather defined by hidden labor that is crucial to the functioning of households—and often society at large.

Ana Gabriela argues that it is essential to recognize and compensate this work. Not only would this provide older adults with financial resources, but it would also acknowledge their continued contributions in a way that fosters dignity and respect. The unpaid labor of caregiving and domestic work, after all, is as valuable as any paid profession, even if it doesn't show up in the economy's official ledgers.

To achieve a healthier, more active old age, we must rethink the very architecture of our public policies. Ana Gabriela insists that governments need to adjust programs in areas such as healthcare, pensions, and labor regulation to accommodate the shifting demographics of an aging world. One of the core challenges, she notes, is ensuring that aging beyond 60 isn't just about "surviving," but about living with dignity and engagement.

Technological exclusion is one glaring example of where this effort falls short. Elderly populations, in many cases, are left behind by the march of progress in digital tools, online banking, and technological conveniences. When society fails to equip older adults with the knowledge to navigate these systems, we risk marginalizing them further, pushing them into the shadows of an increasingly digitized world.

It’s tempting to imagine retirement as a restful phase of life, but the reality for many elderly individuals is far more complex. According to CESOP's studies, 43 percent of people aged 60 to 69 are still economically active. That percentage drops to 24 percent for those aged 70 to 79, and only 9 percent of people over 80 have paid work. For those without formal employment, domestic tasks still define their daily lives.

This reality leads to a crucial question: How do we balance the need for continued economic participation with the imperative for rest and leisure in old age? The answer, Ana Gabriela suggests, lies in ensuring that those who continue working—whether in formal jobs or in the household—are properly compensated and have access to decent working conditions. Aging should not mean economic destitution, nor should it imply a life spent toiling unpaid.

The solutions to the challenges of aging with dignity require a combination of foresight, compassion, and practical action. We need to encourage healthier lifestyles early on to stave off chronic conditions like diabetes and hypertension that make aging so precarious. But we also need to reevaluate our social safety nets—pensions, healthcare, and labor laws—to ensure that people can age without fear of financial insecurity.

Recognizing the unpaid labor of caregiving, educating older adults on the use of technology, and fostering inclusivity in the labor market are just the beginning. Ultimately, as Ana Gabriela Núñez articulates so well, the goal is not just to live longer but to live well. The sooner we take steps to secure the dignity of our older selves, the more we ensure that the precariousness of youth doesn't doom us to a precarious old age.

In-text Citation: (Bahena, 2024, pp. 32-35)