“A Population at Risk”: Ageism Toward Elders During the COVID-19 Era in Israel

Abstract

The article focuses on ageism during COVID-19 lockdowns. It is based on a study that investigated how the elder population, living at home or in out-of-home settings, experienced that period. It also explored managements’ attitude toward residents’ representatives in out-of-home frameworks during that time. Employing the narrative research method 16 interviews were carried out with people aged 75–97, living at home or in out-of-home settings, with tenants’ representatives and a few officials. The research revealed that all interviewees encountered ageist attitudes. Yet, those living at home experienced relative independence and control of their lives while the sense of isolation was especially acute among tenants in institutional settings, sometimes described as “a prison.” This connotation is accentuated by the tenants’ representatives’ claims about silencing them. Thus, it appears that the COVID-19 period intensified the embedded conflicts between residents’ representatives and managements. However, all appeared to comply with the strict regulations and supervision.

Introduction and Background

The COVID-19 pandemic highlighted crucial age issues, especially with regard to older people in times of crisis. The virus threatened older people’s access to health services, to social networks, their employment, and pensions, and not only their lives (Brook and Jackson 2020; United Nations 2020). Chronological age was the only criteria for isolating people in some countries (Shalev 2020; World Health Organization [WHO] 2021).

The pandemic also intensified ageist discourse globally (Previtali, Allen, and Varlamova 2020). While the WHO set out in 2016 to combat ageist attitudes toward older people (Officer and De la Fuente-Núñez 2018), the outbreak of the pandemic heightened the ageist discourse. Two prominent narratives emerged on this background. The “vulnerability narrative” derived its rational from findings about the first wave, which emphasized older people’s enhanced risk of being infected by the virus and of their higher chance to die. The other narrative perceived older people as a “burden,” which demands special treatment and, thus, preventing appropriate treatment from the general public (Ayalon et al. 2020).

Similarly, the eruption of COVID-19 in Israel impaired the rights and independence of senior citizens, especially those living in out-of-home settings (Wurgaft 2020–2021). The limitations imposed on the labor market following the spreading of the pandemic generated large-scale dismissal of workers. Older people were the first to be dismissed and were left with insufficient income. This situation worsened their economic ability to keep up their household (Bar-Mor and Sharoni 2022). Moreover, the lockdowns had severe impact on the elderly, who experienced loneliness and social isolation which deteriorated their physical and emotional health (Allen and Ayalon 2021).

It is evident that older people are relatively more vulnerable physically than younger people. They experience deterioration of physical capabilities and generally face greater health risks when infected by COVID (Applegate and Ouslander 2020). The high rate of older people who were infected by COVID during the first wave was accompanied by paternalistic attitudes which perceived the older population as fragile and vulnerable and in need of protection (JDC and Eshel 2020; Previtali, Allen, and Varlamova 2020). Nevertheless, the ageist attitudes toward older people through stereotypes and stigmatizing images that became a disturbing phenomenon during the lockdowns times, seemed to strengthen the vulnerable image of the older population and their inferior status in society.

Although only 4% of the older population was infected, older people were collectively and sweepingly defined as belonging to “a group at risk”, without considering their health and functional situation (JDC and Eshel 2020). The generalized approach reflected an ageist attitude ignoring individual life conditions (Reynolds 2020). It supported the authoritative policy for excluding and isolating older people, using coercive means (Shalev 2020).

Enhanced by the public and media discourse that initially associated COVID with “old people’s disease” and emphasized “concern for populations at risk,” (Cohn-Schwartz and Ayalon 2020), measures that exacerbated aged people’s isolation and segregation were invoked. The stigmatization and segregation at one extreme and protective patronization at the other reflect ageism as a socially embedded phenomenon that was intensified during the COVID-19 era. Thus, the COVID era unveiled already-extant patronizing, and sometimes even hostile attitudes toward the elder population (Ayalon 2020).

Ageism implies prejudice against people due to their age. It is reflected in stereotyped perceptions, exclusion, discrimination, infringement of autonomy, and sometimes even coercion toward people related to their age. An ageist attitude toward the elderly may manifest in disentitlement and mistreatment in employment, law, and physical and mental health. In the COVID era, ageist attitudes toward the elder population were particularly blatant at ministries of health, social services, and finance. Media reports pointed to degradation of residents’ dignity in aged people’s institutions, sheltered housing, and even in their own homes (e.g., Wurgaft’s series of articles in Ha’aretz 2020–2021). As the pandemic spread terms like “the frail elderly,” implying weakness and vulnerability, were widely used; and the generalized definition of elders as “a population at risk” was fostered through TV programs and Op-ed columns. Thus, for example, in an Op-ed column in Ha’aretz, Walden (2020) wrote: “An irritating category emerged, 70 years old and above were defined as endangered, the new 60 is no more 40 and new 70 is truly out of date.” According to another Op-ed article in Ha’aretz, the sweeping exclusion of 60-year-old people and above by State agencies and the stigmatization on the media were experienced as confinement in sentenced to death ward “not because of the danger but because of the stigma” (Lieblich 2020). The emphasis put by the media on background illnesses of those who died from the virus served to transform the deceased from subjects to objects (Grzelka 2020). Moreover, the older population was perceived as an endangering population “just like in the past people who were blamed for spreading pandemics were hung . . . now the elderly are portrayed as the main suspects, those responsible for the collapse of the health system” (Wurgaft 2020). At the end of 2020, according to the Israel Central Bureau of Statistics (2021), the senior population (65+) numbered 1,128,000 people, 12% of the total populace, 14% of Jews and 5.5% of Arabs. Only 4% of the older population lives out of home: in old-age institutions, sheltered housing, and the like. The eruption of the pandemic exposed the immense vulnerability of the elder population that lives out of home. Many were infected with the virus due to dilatory testing during the first wave. Policymakers’ instructions promoted rigid restrictions on the daily management of those living out of home and infringed on their autonomy. Managers of out-of-home frameworks enforced exclusionary, labeling, and patronizing treatment.

These events demonstrated the implications of older people’s place of residence for the realization of their basic rights, the fulfillment of their needs, and even their chances of living. It turns out that even in sheltered housing settings, which serve relatively affluent populations and provide a high standard of living, residents may be denied freedom of movement and connection with families “on the outside.” This further illuminates the potential harm of placing members of an age-labeled group in socially segregated settings. Furthermore, the potential infringement appears to worsen when the facilities are funded by the government, providing the residents with scanty services, and thus making them easier to control (Doron and Lightman 2004).

Being identified as older people, the authors perceive themselves as embodying a wider, social, political issue, rather than personal (Hanisch 1970). It is suggested, therefore, that the article is of interest for older people, for those who take care of the elderly in the health and welfare services, for managers of divergent frameworks for older people and for policymakers. Moreover, the crisis of the COVID-19 era, and especially the lockdown times, provided a unique opportunity to examine the implications for the population residing in segregated frameworks, which became extremely exposed to the pandemic’s risks. The COVID-19 crisis also offered an opportunity to compare “out-of-home” to “at-home” residence. As the study was based on older people’s voices and stories it exposes their subjective experiences and views with regard to the ageist attitudes that were publicly and privately revealed. Hence, the article calls for examining policy issues with relation to living conditions and to services for older people, who live at home or in out-of-home frameworks, especially during crisis times.

Thus, the article focuses on how the COVID-19 period influenced the lives of older people living at home or in out-of-home frameworks, through their own voices. It also examines how older people experienced ageist attitudes toward them during COVID-19.

Literature Review

Research on ageism began in the late 1960s, has been steadily expanding since, and is being studied from various perspectives (Doron 2013; Koren 2013; Macnicol 2005). Butler’s (1969) proposed definition of ageism as a process of stereotyping and systematic discrimination against people because they are old was followed by various definitions of the concept. Hazan (2013) defined agism as follows:

[A]n undifferentiated admixture of several aspects: sociological diagnosis of stratified inequality in distribution of and access to resources; psychological sensitivity to the mental implications of this exclusion; social criticism of the existence of prejudices and patterns of discrimination; and the inferior legal status of the elderly. (52)

Ageism, Angus and Reeve (2006) contended, is “any prejudice or discrimination against or in favor of any age group” (139). Tulle (2008) argued that the discourse of physical deterioration affects the control of elder people and their opportunities for autonomous functioning. According to Butler (1995), ageism of young and middle-aged people toward the elderly serves the young by prioritizing them in the allocation of social resources. Thus, the age categorization of older people is predicated on the social order and power structure of society. Ageism, Butler suggested, manifests in stereotypes and myths of explicit rejection and disapproval or in implicit avoidance of contact; discriminatory practices in housing, employment, and receipt of services; and name-calling, caricatures, and jokes. Hazan argued that ageism deals with death as “an existential question, the proximity to or the distance from death” (cited in Koren 2013, 37). The tendency of the stigma “to spread, from the stigmatized individual to those close to him” (Goffman 1963, 28) introduces the need for physical and mental distance from “the representatives of old age” (Hazan 2006),

It follows that ageism protects young people from thinking about ageing, illness, and death that scare them. Hence, ageism is associated with a social structure that serves the “young” and their fear of impending death.

Research on age and ageism in Israel began some three decades ago. It revealed the structured features of old age and ageist concepts that are instilled in the individual by society and culture. A significant part of this scholarship deals with settings created for “old people”: old-age homes, sheltered housing, nursing departments, and so on (e.g., Gamliel 2000; Golander 1995; Hazan 1980, 1998). These studies demonstrate how structured segregation affects the perceived reality of those who inhabit these settings. Gubrium and Holstein (1999) suggested that the routine in settings for older people is directed at controlling the residents and intensifying their weakness. Similar arguments about control of residents of out-of-home settings were raised by McKinley and Adler (2006). Kaplan (2013) and Ramer-Biel (2013) argued that although sheltered housing facility produces an image of home and community with high standard of activity and recreation it is not a home and in fact it reduces selfness and the independence of its tenants. They also pointed at the economic advantages that are entailed in the commodification of age. Goffman’s “total institutions” (1961) provides solid basis for realizing the structured control over people in this kind of human frameworks and the vested interests behind them (the management’s and professional staff’s in particular). Total institution is defined as “a place of residence and work where a large number of like-situated individuals, cut off from the wider society. . . together lead an enclosed, formally administered round of life” (xiv). The institution’s “encompassing or total character is symbolized by the barrier to social intercourse with the outside and to departure that is often built right into the physical plant. . .” (4).

Thus, it is suggested that the vast research on institutions for the elderly, as compared to the meager research on older people living at home (who consist over 96% of the older population) indirectly contributes to reinforce perceptions of isolation and essential otherness, caused inter alia by the identification of the life there with the “culture of death” (Hazan 2005, 9). The unbalanced focus of the research also reinforces stereotypes associated with old age and old people. This focus in scholarship generalizes those who live in out-of-home settings and projects the “irreversible” (9) conceptualization of “old-age otherness” (8) onto the “elderly” collectively.

Gamliel (2000) suggested that the objections of sheltered housing tenants to associating them with old age reflects an effort “to form a non-old-age identity” (151) and “to cling to a non-old-age illusion” (27), and also as “denial” (16).

The objection to be labeled as “old” is also discussed by Spector-Marzel (2008). Her interviewees, retired Israeli military officers of 1948, stressed the extreme contrast between “old age” and the ideal of the military, masculine figure of the Western masculine Israeli Sabra. The retired officers’ old age was shaped as challenging the stereotypes associated with it. They based their “‘identifying card’ on the cultural axiom that determines that a masculine Sabra commander cannot, by definition, be old” (16). According to the officers’ cultural perception “acting on behalf of the collective is a shield against old age” (ibid). It is suggested, however, that older people’s rejection to be labeled as ‘old’ can be interpreted as resenting and defying the imposition of a stigmatized identity on them rather than “denial.”

According to Hazan (2006), older people resist stereotypes that construct their identity as related to “dependency, distrust, disregard and distancing” (103). He describes the “rebellion” of the elderly as “defiance; demonstration of the ‘self’, especially in powerful environments. . .” (Hazan 1984, 103). Nevertheless, it appears that this resistance is cautious because of the need to refrain from direct symbolic confrontation with the norms of the dominating elite (Scott 1985). According to these norms the objection to be defined as “old,” are perceived as “denial.”

The growing body of scholarship on elders’ lives and on ageism during COVID-19 makes elders’ voices heard only marginally (Fraser et al. 2020). The current study aimed at understanding the elder population’s experiences, through their own words. It also strived to comprehend older people’s perceptions of ageism, as it emerges from their descriptions of their experiences during the lockdowns.

Another focus of the study was on comparing the effects of lockdown practices on the elder population living at home and on those living in out-of-home institutes for older people.

Applied research has given limited attention to the role and importance of cooperation between inhabitants of out-of-home institutions and their managements. It barely relates to the potential of such partnering in improving the quality of residents’ lives and of the services they receive (Boelsma et al. 2014; Leedahl, Sellon and Gallopyn 2017). The study presented in this article addressed this issue as well.

Emerson’s (1962) power-dependence theory renders a relevant understanding of the tenants’ committees’ role in frameworks for older people. The “coalition formation” balancing operation which “increases the power of weaker actors through collectivization” (37) applies to the power relations between the tenants and the managements.

Thus, exploring the status and power of residents’ representatives in out-of-home settings during the pandemic may contribute to the research on elders living in segregated settings.

Methodology

The research started a short time after the eruption of COVID-19. The two researchers, a female and a male, are both over 70 years old. Feeling upset by the media and public discourse about “old people,” as fragile/endangered/at risk, they set out to delve into the prevailing identification between advanced age and people in need of protection and/or supervision. Thus, resisting the implied generalized weakness of older people and their actual distancing from the “healthy” community motivated the researchers.

Feminist research approaches were adopted; “Personal problems are political problems. . .” (Hanisch 1970, 76) was one, and the concept that the subjective experience is a basis and even a condition for understanding the social reality (Behar 1996) was the other.

Thus, the research brought up personal experiences, examining their connection to broader sociopolitical issues, perceiving agism as one kind of social exclusion or racist practices.

The narrative research method (Connelly and Clandinin 2006) was used as a way of thinking about an experience. Narrative research means adopting the unique conceptualization of an experience as a phenomenon being researched. Josselson and Lieblich (2001) suggested that narrative research refers to “any study based on discourse or on people’s verbal accounts of their experiences” (280). The main research tool employed was in-depth interview, an “encounter” that aims at reaching “the internal array of another’s experience, always bounded by our shared participation in a matrix of signification” (281).

According to Riessman (2008), “interviews are narrative occasions” (23) and interviewees should be able to tell their story in their own words. Sharing power is a basic idea behind this narrative inquiry. In order that the interviews produce rich and meaningful data the encounter necessitates an atmosphere that fosters “reciprocal and empowering interaction” (Cohn and Lyons 2003, 41).

The qualitative data collection process is integrated with a process of analysis and design of the research method (Glaser and Strauss 1967). This method is derived from the informants’ point of view and from what they say; “their explanations of what they are doing constitute bricks used to build a theory” (Shkedi 2004, 155).

Following Strauss and Corbin’s (2015) grounded theory approach, all the recorded and transcribed interviews underwent content analysis, out of which three main categories, relating to daily life and ageist experiences during COVID-19, emerged. Two of them were affected by the initial decision to interview people living at home and people living out of home. The third category emerged from repeated elaborations on the ethnography. Hence the main categories of the findings, as they were reported and perceived by the interviewees, include daily experiences and ageist attitudes during the lockdowns toward: (a) elders living at home, (b) elders living in out-of-home settings, and (c) tenants’ representatives in these settings. Sixteen interviews were conducted with people aged 75–97 (11 women and 5 men), nine living at home with or without a caregiver and seven in old-age institutions. Five interviews were conducted with representatives of tenants’ committees in sheltered housing facilities. Also interviewed were eight officials and a gerontologist. Academic articles and publications in conventional and digital media were consulted as well.

Both, interviews with people living at home and those living in out-of-home settings were reached through personal acquaintances. The interviews were unstructured, yielding evolving conversations that allowed the interviewees to bring up their experiences, relating to them “with complete respect,” and refraining from “judging or evaluating” them (Josselson and Lieblich 2001, 181). The interviews were carried out as open conversations, beginning with questions about the wellbeing of the person who was interviewed, relating to the lockdown times. The researchers’ interest focused on how they managed with being isolated from family, friends and the ‘outer’ world; how they managed in getting vital supplies, food, medicines etc.; expressions of ageism that the interviewees experienced from other people, as well as from the media, were another focus; the interviewees were also asked about their views relating to their place of residence.

The interviews took place in August–October 2020 and March–May 2021. Each interview was from half an hour to one hour long. An interviewee’s daughter took part in one interview; in another interview, the female researcher’s mother, her caregiver, and a volunteer joined the encounter. All interviewees gave willing consent to take part in the interview and set no conditions for its use. However, the tenants’ representatives asked to keep their anonymity while all others expressed their consent and willingness that their names will be acknowledged,

Findings and Discussion

Reactions and Adjustments of Older People to COVID-19’s Lockdowns and to Ageism

During COVID-19 the existing reluctance and antagonism toward the elderly escalated, being marked as a “population at risk” and a menace to their surroundings. This attitude emerged on the background of governmental instructions and was influenced by media discourse toward the elder population. While ageist attitudes were directed at older people collectively those living in old people’s residence experienced more intense control and limitations (resembling inmates in Goffman’s [1961] total institutions), as compared to older people living at home, who faced similar limitations to others in society. Coping with the crisis and the lockdowns in particular involved the use of divergent “types of balancing processes which tend to restore the balance to the individual’s relations with others” (Emerson 1962, 31).

In the following sections, the balancing processes of adjustment to the crisis situation that were employed by older people living at home and by those who live in older people’s frameworks will be discussed. The impact of ageism on older people in both contexts will also be elaborated as well as their views on ageism during the COVID-19 and beyond.

Elders living at home: Relative independence, coping with restrictions and patronization

The research findings revealed that the interviewees who lived at home, with or without a caregiver, experienced relative independence and control of their lives, although accompanied by fear of the pandemic threat. They conveyed their satisfaction with being able to keep in touch with family members despite the lockdown. In what follows, the encounters with elder people living at home will be discussed.

Yair, aged 86, a widower who lives on his own in Tel Aviv, spent the lockdown in his apartment. His building committee delivered medicines to his home. The groceries he ordered from chain stores were left at his door. Yair put together a “daily program” of reading or listening to music, playing the piccolo, writing, and making profuse numbers of telephone calls. He explained: “When you’re locked down against your will, you want even more to be in contact with people.”

After about two months of lockdown, Yair received a call from a municipal bureaucrat, who told him that the city would send volunteers to talk with him, given that he was all on his own. Yair replied that he had no need for this and suggested to those who had approached him that “they should apply their services to people who really need them. . . .” Being approached as a “frail old man” outraged him because he considers himself “physically and mentally fine . . . It’s as though they thought they’d be speaking with somebody who could hardly answer them . . . I’m sure there are lots of people who could use their services.” Yair also expressed his reservations with regard to the widely invoked motto, during the pandemic, that one should take care of grandpa and grandma by not visiting them: “It’s a little like saying we’re different, they’re grandpa and grandma and we’re young so let’s watch over them. . . . It’s a little, I won’t say patronizing, but it is.”

The fact that Yair was active in diverse ways improved his relations with family members and friends and made his stay at home pleasant and useful. It appears that he represents an elder population group that is active and socially involved in ordinary times and easily stayed engaged even during the lockdown period. Moreover, Yair explains that he was neither depressed nor sad during the lockdown. What occupied and troubled him was “the political situation [in Israel]; that gave me more stress than the corona situation.” By implication, he does not see himself as representing “others.” “I’m not lacking for anything. . . . I’m fortunate to be in a situation where I can look out for myself,” unlike others who were seen rummaging through trash cans for food “with no one to take care of them.” It is these “wretches,” he says, who need to be looked after. It seems that Yair implicitly likens the notion of “frail old people” with that of the desperately hungry.

Nehama, aged 89, lives on her own in Ramat Gan. Even during the coronavirus period, she recalls, she was surrounded by friends who sat with her in the courtyard, all masked. “There was hardly a day when I was alone. There were days when I said, ‘If only no one would come, I’m dying to rest today. . .’.” Nehama blames the offensive ageism on the media, which, she says, encourages a condescending and outrageous attitude toward the elder population. They “pounded that into us from morning to night. They talked about the elderly all the time . . . You’re constantly told how endangered you are that you’re at risk because of your age.”

Nehama reports having experienced patronizing ageism from her children, although it was subtle and twined with good intentions and concern: “Mommy’s so old, we gotta start worrying about her so she shouldn’t be alone. . . .” Nehama believes that her children are especially fearful for her due to her age. “If I were younger, they wouldn’t treat me that way. . . If I go out. . . It’s ‘Mommy, where are you going?’. . . And it’s not because of the coronavirus. . . It’s because that’s how old people are being related to.” Even though she felt burdened by this concern, she also found advantages in it: “At first it was even very flattering and pleasant. . . .” But the excessive worrying weighed on her and on her children, and, when she forbade them to come, she felt that they were relieved. Nehama was angered by the restrictions on moving about and circulating away from home during the lockdown, which she experienced as a house arrest. The main difficulty she had during the lockdown, from her perspective, traced to the reduced opportunities for physical encounters, in which “I can hug you; I can see your response.”

The outdoors restrictions on the elderly were also imposed on those living at home by their children and grandchildren. Nehama complied with her children’s demands and seldom stepped out for almost a year due to the pressure they applied to her. Her daughter implored: “Do it for me and for your grandchildren. . . I’ll make you swear. . . I won’t be able to sleep at night if I know you’ll be moving around. . . Very powerful psychological pressure [was applied] from all directions, from both my grandchildren and my children,” Nehama confesses. Conversely, the visits of her children, grandchildren, and friends saved her by not leaving her alone. Help from the children in shopping was, for Nehama, “one of the advantages of the coronavirus and of so-called old age.”

Rivka, a 94-year-old widow, lives in her own apartment upstairs from her daughter, Hannah, in the town of Ra’ananna. The encounter took place with Hannah’s participation and exemplified, like that with Nehama, ageism associated with children’s concern for their parents. The “curfew that they imposed on us,” Rivka said, had no effect on her because she spent most of her time at home in any case. The dialogue between Hannah and her mother, however, revealed the apparent impact of the lockdown on Rivka and showed that Hannah assumed leadership in making decisions. Hannah raised doubts in relating to her mother’s idyllic description of the events. During the coronavirus period, she said, her mother’s anxiety threshold increased and she began to take a powerful tranquilizer to calm herself because she had several bouts of high blood pressure. Rivka calls the medication, prescribed for her by a psychiatrist “mood pills” and they did improve her mood but also caused her to sleep a great deal. “Being isolated wasn’t good for her,” Hannah remarked. Indeed, Hannah looks out for her mother and cares for her devotedly, but as a consequence of this profound care she deprived her mother of responsibility for her health, her mental state, and independent decision-making.

Rivka accuses the media of exacerbating anxiety: “Their blabbering on television, every day and all day . . . definitely has a bad influence.” Hannah noted that her mother spent many hours watching television and explained that although her mother is in better condition than “the frail elderly, who were abandoned. . . there was this very great loneliness, there were anxieties and uncertainties. . . .”

Emanuel, aged 94, who lived on his own in the town of Ramat Hasharon, was as strongly convinced as were Nehama, Yair, and Rivka about the existence of ageism and thought much as they did about living in sheltered housing. He described the manifestations of ageism during the pandemic and the deception involved in them:

Telling grandchildren “Don’t visit grandpa” is definitely ageism. . . The formal explanation is that they’re taking care of me so I don’t catch their diseases. But the truth is exactly the opposite: It turns out that I might infect them and they have to keep their distance from me. . . When they watch over me, they have to beware of me. . . .

It does not happen overtly; after all, no one tells him that he’s contagious. “But everyone says, you gotta keep your distance. In other words, Grandpa’s a menace” and as they worry about him so much, they shun him.

Emanuel claimed that he was isolated at home “by orders of the government.” The government, he argued, sets out from a racist, ageist way of thinking. He thoroughly rejected the claim that the government is interested in his well-being and health. According to Emanuel neither the elderly nor others should have been locked down during the pandemic.

“I am not alone,” he said. Family members, friends, and neighbors visited him almost every day. “At home I am familiar with everything, the objects and the books without which I cannot do.” According to Emanuel, ageism envelops us all our lives “and almost every bureaucratic decision that pertains to people has something to do with age and ageism.” Ageism is omnipresent in society irrespective of COVID, produced by decisions and actions of state authorities and even by family members. It is more convenient for the state to deal with defined, differentiated groups than with individuals. This state of affairs. Emanuel explained, brings about “effacement . . . that we simply accept as self-evident.”

Eva, 97 years old, lives in her apartment in the town of Netanya. She is the female researcher’s mother. The encounter took place in the presence of Alona, Eva’s caregiver for roughly 10 years, and of Ayala, a volunteer who visits her several hours every week. The conversation with the three of them clarified that they have fully complied with the injunctions against stepping out of the apartment during the lockdown. The ageist expressions were revealed in the encounter as relating to daily life and not necessarily to the COVID era. While Eva was talking, Alona and Ayala interrupted her repeatedly, completing her sentences and taking control over the conversation. Thus the prevailing inherent ageist attitude, unconsciously adopted toward older people, was made evident.

During the lockdown, Eva and Alona stayed in touch with Ayala by means of WhatsApp video. Describing how she felt when everyone was locked down, Eva said: “We couldn’t go out. . . . Apart from that, I didn’t want to when it was impossible.” Ayala broke in: “You weren’t allowed to go outside. . . . I couldn’t visit you for two and a half months.” Eva replied: “. . . I sat at home; I didn’t go out anyway. . . . It was impossible to go out. It’s important for some people . . . but I don’t get bothered by such a thing. . . You are not allowed to go out? So I don’t go out. What’s the problem?”

Eva’s reply reveals her compliance with the decree. If they tell her not to go out, she does not go out and sees nothing problematic about it. Alona responded similarly:

If they say do it that way, so I do it . . . It’s not because they wanted to do something bad to us; it really was, like, dangerous . . . We talked with everyone by video . . . much more than before the coronavirus. . . We didn’t feel alone and forgotten and not cared about. . . Yet I took trips outside to the supermarket and back, to the dumpster and back.

In other words, Eva, Alona, and Ayala expressed no doubt regarding the justification of the movement restrictions. Alona even linked their adjustment to the improvement of family connections by telephone calls and to the defiance of taking “outings” to the supermarket and the dumpster. Apparently, however, matters were more complex than that; the days of the lockdown generated a sense of imprisonment. During the lockdown, according to Ayala, Eva expressed distress, being unable to go outside and have visits by family members. Alona recalled that Eva described that situation as “even [harder] than the Holocaust period because now, here, we’re locked at home and can’t go outside . . . Back then, too, they didn’t let us go anywhere.”

Being enforced to stay at home the interviewees adopted various practices for sustaining their mental equilibrium, maintaining relative control over their lives. Yair, Emanuel, and Nehama managed to establish a sense of independence and control over their lives by clinging to a full-day activity program and to a routine daily life by keeping an ongoing contact with family members and friends through online encounters and even by forbidden physical meetings with them. Yet, another way of coping with the stressful situation emerged from the conversations with Eva, Alona, Ayala, and Rivka. Their accounts reflect compliance, accepting what must be respected, perceiving the lockdowns dictates as justified for their own safety.

The most conspicuous phenomenon connected to the social reactions of people, single people in particular, to their enforced confinement was the use of alternative social communication, especially by WhatsApp video, Zoom or Skype. This kind of alternative (visual) communication is perceived as “the cultivation of alternative social relations” (Emerson 1962, 35). This balancing operation served, so it seems, to counterbalance the State control over the limitations of people’s physical interactions.

Being widely and collectively labeled as “old people” in need of protection or as endangering their social surroundings, Emanuel, Nehama, Rivka, and Yair expressed emotional resistance to their stigmatized identity. It is argued that their decisive objections should not be interpreted as a denial but rather as a demand to be treated as “normal” people, who do not wear the stigma (Goffman 1963). Thus, relating to the assistance proposed to him by the city authorities, Yair reacted angrily. Nehama criticized the media fiercely, for its ageist attitude during the COVID-19 era.

Patronization appeared as another expression of ageism, through intervening in the older person’s conduct and decision making, and by silencing or ignoring them (Hazan 2006). Family members were cautiously blamed for patronization by Nehama, Rivka, Eva, and Emanuel. Emanuel blamed the government for deceiving the people, justifying its ageism by claiming older people’s need to be protected. He viewed this alleged protection as latent ageism. Although the interviewees admitted their appreciation for being cared for, yet concurrently they expressed cautiously their reservations regarding the latent control of family members over their decisions and conduct. Following Scott’s (1985) analysis of everyday resistance this hesitant criticism reflects the simple means used by the relative weak (the ‘elders’) to resist those who are more powerful and have control over them. Thus, they refrained from direct symbolic confrontation with the norms of dominating elite (the young’s). According to Hazan (1984) this type of defiance implies older people’s claim as saying: “I am different from what you want me to be; I am someone with a personality, with the ability to make decisions; with a will; and I am entitled to, and want to, demonstrate this will” (103).

Thus, it appears that elders who live at home experienced relative autonomy and control over their lives during the lockdowns. Apparently, they had to endure similar restrictions as the general public, although their children’s involvement implied over protection. Lastly, most interviewees felt that the media had a significant role in enhancing ageist attitudes.

Complying with rigid restrictions in sheltered housing: Protection intertwined with control

The accounts of residents in out-of-home settings exposed uneasy experiences related to the strict limitations on their mobility and the pervasive supervision of staff and managers.

The researchers’ encounters with the sheltered housing tenants reflect the inflexible restrictions that the facilities’ managements imposed on the residents. Although managers justified these measures on grounds of protection, their concern was accompanied implicitly by excessive supervision and infringement of residents’ rights. Yet, the bans on setting foot outside the institution and the strict minding of the tenants’ comportment did not prompt the tenants to resist. They seemed to accept the supervision and to comply with the control; sometimes they even identified with and adopted the managements’ explanations.

The encounters with two women residents, Nili and Miri, and with Elana, a sports instructor at a sheltered housing facility in Haifa in early September 2020, took place outside the building. Elana justified the denial of entrance to people who do not belong to the facility as follows:

Residents are not allowed to host family members. Accordingly, they meet outside. We have a very high level of alert here. We protect our residents absolutely. If somebody sneaks in, heaven forbid . . . We watch over the residents very, very closely . . . There’s no discretion here. They’re not allowed to bring people in . . . Tough enforcement . . . Non-permanent workers are not allowed to enter the residential compound . . . It is a very protective and restrictive framework.

According to Elana, the residents felt that “they’re worried about and that everyone cares for them; they truly feel coddled and that [the staff] is very devoted to them.” Just the same, the “coddling,” devotion, and concern were accompanied by arbitrary and unilateral decisions: “They stopped all sorts of activities for them . . . There used to be folk-dancing in one of the houses; the residents were reluctant to give it up in any way whatsoever. . . .” The residents’ responses imply that even though the management’s actions upset them, their attempt to resist took place from a place of surrender. Thus, according to Elana, they responded “with acceptance, consent, disappointment, but no more than that.” When asked, “Wouldn’t you say that these people behave [that way] because they’re very disciplined and obedient?!” Elana affirmed this, emphasizing her approach further:

I agree, but I don’t see the problem with it . . . It’s also part of the advantages of working with people of this age. There is no rebelliousness here . . . It sounds sad. It’s okay with them; [they understand] it’s part of the caring for them. This way they feel that they are watched over better. Their conceptual world gets narrower and narrower.

Elana’s perception of concern for and protectiveness over the residents implies her stereotyped thinking about them. They are not people “like us,” (“normals”) who can rebel and resist. Implicitly she discloses the advantage, from her standpoint, of working with people who do not rebel; “their” inability to rebel reflects their acquiescence as she understands it: “It’s okay with them.” Elana even sharpens her description of their “otherness” and the special attitude toward “them”: “ We attribute a high level of fragility to that age group; we’re much more careful in all spheres, so they shouldn’t fall. . . .” Asked whether “they are kept from making decisions for themselves: does [management] restrict their movements?” Elana replied: “Yes, for sure, for sure.”

The interview with Miri, 88 years old, a former registered nurse, was also conducted at the sheltered housing facility in Haifa. It reinforces Elana’s claim about the residents’ profound satisfaction from both the services and the protection that is provided by the management. Miri revealed her contentment with the devoted care, the rich variety of activities, the supervision, and even with the restrictions that the management imposed. She told the researcher unreservedly:

From age 30 and down they don’t allow visits here. I have two grandchildren who are under 30 . . . Now they can’t come . . . One of my great-grandchildren is more than one year old; I saw her when she was a few months old . . . And I see her only on WhatsApp.

Miri missed these visits badly. She seemed, however, to accept the restrictions in full: “I think there’s a guiding hand . . . and I have nothing to complain about. I only thank [them] for the goodness that I receive here.” Moreover, Miri considers the restrictions salutary:

With the coronavirus, I try to minimize my contact with people from the outside . . . and apart from that, I make phone calls, I make life convenient. He [the grocer] makes deliveries and there’s a delivery to the door . . . The delivery person is allowed to come in . . . They won’t make the maintenance workers bring the groceries up.

Thus, it seems that despite the restrictions on entering by people who “don’t belong” to the facility, management loosens up and lets delivery people enter the building because otherwise it would have to allocate maintenance staff for this purpose. In other words, when management faces constraints, it loosens the rules of isolation and protection of the residents.

The ban on visits by family members during the lockdown appears to have been especially difficult for the residents. Management’s inflexible restrictions generated the residents’ confinement. However, the interviewees’ responses to the imposed restriction of movement and of meeting with anyone from the “outside” reflect mainly compliance. Thus, Miri explains the significance of the movement restrictions and the enforcement of the mask mandate: “She [the manager] asked [us] not to go out because we’re at an age that needs to be watched so we should go around all the time with this [mask], ‘Put it on here, put it on there, don’t take it off, [it’s] dangerous. . .’ She’s very watchful.”

It seems that the control over the residents is respected for lack of choice but also with understanding and acquiescence. Miri accepts the imposed ban on going outside with understanding; she explains that one can “get along,” noting the “fantastic conditions” that the facility offers: “They bring everything here. So now I don’t go out; it can’t be helped. I hope it blows over.” In the same breath, she admits, “It’s really nice but it’s a jail . . . really courteous but a jail. . . and I’m locked down here. . . .” It appears that even though the residents are treated as they would in “an eight-star hotel, extraordinary,” it is a restrictive setting, akin to a “jail.”

The residents’ responses to the restrictions imposed on them during the lockdown and the pandemic at large are diverse, ranging from belittling their implications, complying with, and justifying them, and even appreciating management’s decisions. The appreciative attitude emerges from the encounter with 94-year-old Amram, who lives with his wife in a sheltered housing facility near the city of Netanya. When asked how he felt when the pandemic erupted, he expressed optimism, comparing the hardships during that period with other times, emphasizing his satisfaction with his thriving family. He explained:

There was a shock but we’ve gone through much harder periods . . . The thing is that when the coronavirus situation came around, everyone reacted emotionally. I said, “What are you getting excited about?” . . . Believe me; we went through much harder times . . . I laughed . . . I enjoyed it, the family grew, endlessly.

At the same time, however, he talked about hardships: “There was a problem at first. You weren’t allowed to let anyone in . . . Then we were literally in the dark . . . It was very hard because family members weren’t allowed to enter the premises . . . And we were checked for COVID every week. . .” The situation improved when people who had received two doses of vaccine were allowed to enter the lobby. “It took a year or so for them to start coming. There was chaos and I laughed . . . I seem to accept everything in good cheer; there’s no choice. . . .” Namely, Amram expresses in almost the same breath both optimism and acquiescence along with a sense of distress tied to the chaos that typified the facility during the lockdown. Between the lines, one notices the tough control that was applied to the residents of the facility and, foremost, their shaky acquiescence with an ageist attitude wrapped in manifestations of concern.

Similar understanding emerges further from talking with Margalit, 83, who lives in a sheltered housing facility near Natanya. In her interview Margalit described the pandemic days with deep appreciation for the facility and its managers. She emphasized its many advantages and downplayed the implications of the sweeping restrictions that the management had imposed:

It was extraordinary here . . . We lacked for nothing . . . It seemed to me that here at this estate in particular, or by the merit of the manager, [who] watched out for us above and beyond what they did at other places . . . She didn’t let anyone go outside and she warned us [to put on] the masks over the nose, [not to] let them slide down, heaven forbid . . . During the first lockdown, no one went outside . . . They brought our food all the way to our homes. They rang the bell, we opened up, and we received the food . . . Words can’t describe it.

The dread and fear that Margalit experienced during the first lockdown were related to her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, and not to herself: “I had nothing [to worry about.] I’m among people, in a sheltered place like this. . . .” Management, she said, acted optimally to keep the residents safe. Even when the lockdown was eased, stringent limits on residents’ movement and social encounters remained in effect. Margalit’s remarks reveal that she interpreted the restrictions as meant for her welfare and safety. She credited the proscription of a visit by her granddaughter with her unvaccinated daughter to the “fantastic” manager. Nevertheless, it angered her that “they didn’t let my great-granddaughter come in.” Implicit here is a contradiction between appreciative remarks about overprotection and cautious disapproval of the disturbing intervention in the physical contact with family members. The contradiction is construed as the residents’ compliance with a situation that was out of their control.

However, Ziva’s account accentuates the tenants’ criticism over the disturbing supervision and restrictions imposed by management. Ziva, 84, chair of a tenants’ committee in a sheltered housing in the center of Israel, recounted:

The corona period was very hard for me. In the first lockdown, we weren’t allowed to leave our rooms; we were closed in. We couldn’t even go into the hallway. It was one of the great failures of sheltered housing. Even family members and workers were not allowed to visit me. If I needed something, they’d place it next to the door. I’d have to wait for them to go away and only then bring it into the apartment. Once a day they shouted in the hallway “Garbage, garbage, put the garbage bags outside".

Ziva also described the mental difficulties inflicted on the residents due to the lockdown:

After 10 days or so, I simply broke down. It turns out that many people here collapsed. They treated our mental situation by giving tranquilizers, even without medical approval. One day they took me on a one-hour outing. When I got to the lobby, I was shocked. They’d made the place into a bunker; they’d boarded up the reception desk. It reminded me of photos of England during the blitz. Only the sandbags were missing. I didn’t see a living soul. When they brought me back home, the door behind me was closed and I was left alone again. At a later stage, following instructions from the Ministry of Health and Magen Avot, ¹ they allowed us to go into the hallway and walk around. I could walk back and forth alone fifty times. That was sports. Later on, they decided that we should do half an hour of calisthenics along the corridors. They put chairs in front of our doors; there was a teacher who gave each floor half an hour of calisthenics . . . The grave situation in the first lockdown took place in those two-thirds of the apartments where they locked us in by ourselves . . . Any little thing, for example, every time you went to the clinic, you had to quarantine for two weeks. It was a radical decision and the residents didn’t go to the hospital for tests because of it.

Ziva emphasized that all the decisions were made unilaterally; neither the residents nor their representatives were consulted. Help came from outside the institute: “There was a powerful outcry from the Sheltered Housing Organization: ‘by what authority are they locking us in?’ We are independent people! Some of the residents just left, they went to their families and didn’t come back.”

Ziva’s criticism of management’s conduct and of its professional care was incisive indeed. Nevertheless she asked not to reveal any identifying details about her.

The encounters with the people living in out-of-home frameworks revealed that the lockdown period intensified the implications of these places as “total institutions” (Goffman 1961), where residents are prohibited from leaving the premises, feeling like being in “a jail” in Miri’s words. Elana’s description of the strict supervision over people’s conduct and mobility strengthens the connotation of firm control over the residents who seemed to be treated as “inmates” (ibid). The residents’ descriptions of their experiences echo Goffman’s modes of adaptation to total institutions and especially “colonization,” “conversion” and “identification.” Margalit and Amram represent explicitly these modes of adaptation, accepting the view that they are protected (rather than controlled) for their own good by the staff, and they even like it (as phrased by Ilana), complementing the ideal treatment they receive in normal life and more so during the COVID-19 crisis. Margalit and Amram seem to have fully identified with the management’s practices, trying to “act out the role of the perfect inmate” (63), accepting whole heartedly its justifications. Ziva’s account unveils the latent reservations with regard to the residents’ confinement, confessing: “It’s really nice but it’s a jail . . . really courteous but a jail. . . .” Moreover, Ziva describes a chaotic situation and the mall treatment of the residents’ mental situation.

It appears, therefore, that the experiences of older people living in out-of-home institutes, as it emerges from the interviewees’ accounts, reveal a profound contradiction. They feel grateful for the management’s encompassing protection while expressing careful and sometimes even blatant reservations and criticism with regard to its supervision and restrictions. Nonetheless the tenants do not dare to protest openly.

Patronization, intimidation, degradation of tenants’ representatives: Means of ageist control

As mentioned above, 4% of all elders (65+) in Israel live in out-of-home settings. In the first wave of the pandemic, when its implications were not yet clear, the decisions on daily life in these frameworks were made entirely by their managements. The sweeping decision was to keep residents from going out and bar everyone else from coming in. This decision had a dire impact on the residents of out-of-home facilities: old-age homes and sheltered housing.

The coronavirus period intensified the embedded conflicts between residents’ representatives and management. Notably, residents’ committees do not exist in all these settings. In their remarks, interviewees in the various settings brought up the tensions between their managements and residents’ committees and residents’ families. These fragile relationships, which are sometimes fraught with tension, became more acute during the pandemic.

A senior social worker explained to the male researcher, at the entrance to a sheltered housing framework, the reasons for the restrictions and inspection of visitors:

That’s why they call us “sheltered housing.” We shelter our residents. You can’t wander around in the building freely. You can’t enter without management’s approval . . . Leave me your particulars and I’ll check them out with management. Our management does shelter and look out for the residents.

The chair of the Association of Sheltered Housing Residents ² explained in her interview: “The residents own their dwellings and are free to host whomever they want whenever they want.” During the pandemic, however, it turned out that most of their freedom was lip service. One of the chair’s main activities at that time, she said, was to clarify “the distinction between the treatment of sheltered housing tenants and that of residents of old age homes, because they imposed all the rules and regulations of old-age homes on us. We had to remind management that we’re independent people and should be treated just like all elders in the community.” Thus, the chair was bothered about the fact that sheltered housing tenants received similar treatment to that given to those of (public) old-age homes more than by the movement restrictions. From her perspective, the relevant peer group is elders in the community.

Two committee members, each from a separate facility, claimed that the main interest of the institutions’ management was to satisfy the demands of the government and its inspectors and strictly comply with rules and regulations, especially those of the Ministry of Health. They complained that the residents’ well-being and needs did not receive appropriate attention.

Disclosing management’s control of the tenants’ committee, a sheltered housing manager stated proudly: “With us, there’s a residents’ committee . . . and they observe our guidelines.” Apparently, residents of old-age homes are unable to wield influence through representing committees. One woman resident in an old-age home rumbled:

They don’t let us organize a residents’ committee. There are pressures from above against organizing residents. They don’t let us complain. The inspectors from the Welfare Ministry don’t let us raise our heads, either. They’re afraid that we’ll demand things that they won’t want to give because high-ranking officials oppose it.

Residents’ committees are apparently perceived as a threat to both the Welfare Ministry and to the sheltered housing managements (which are privatized). In one case that took place in a sheltered housing setting, the management increased the movement restrictions on the premises and reduced services such as library and pedicurist in response to a demand from the residents’ committee for increased participation. Trying to reach a compromise, the chair of the tenants’ committee at that institution, encountered a refusal by management to invite members of the committee even as observers to its meetings with representatives of the ministries of Welfare and Health. He recalled: “I didn’t want to force my way in and I didn’t want to embarrass our bosses, so I deferred.” Thus, when confrontations with management and representatives of government ministries take place, the residents’ representatives lose.

The criticism expressed by residents’ representatives about institutions’ managements is trenchant and includes accusations of cynically calculating residents’ impending death. Thus, David, a tenants’ representative, expressed his criticism:

The members of our management are young people, aged 40–50. They make policy that relates to us without listening to our needs and demands or to those of our families. They claim they know best what’s good for us . . . But they don’t consider the fact that we’re the paying customers. They go about things as though we’re going to die in another moment anyway.

Another mordant allegation that accentuates ownership’s economic interest in residents’ death was expressed by Miriam, a chair of a sheltered housing facility: “The owners have an interest in admitting the oldest residents possible, assuming that they’ll die quickly and then it’ll be possible to sell the apartment again at a higher price.”

The representatives’ criticism of management implied that they experienced deception and disregard. Thus, relating to management’s attitude toward the tenants, Yaffa, the chair of a sheltered housing committee, reported her defiance and claims:

You need to begin changing your attitude toward us. We are customers who pay lots for these services. Nobody is doing us any favor. If we have a complaint, we’re entitled to service. You’d better not tell us, “If you don’t like it, move out.” In my eyes, this is one of the harshest manifestations of ageism. I feel that they’ve cheated me, that I’m trapped, that I can’t get out of here anymore.

The control that management wishes to apply to sheltered housing residents, Yaffa argued, has to do with fear of criticism, particularly criticism that spills “outside”:

The managers and owners of the sheltered housing are always afraid that the residents will speak up and hang [management’s] dirty laundry outside. They sweep everything under the rug in order to show that everything’s all shiny . . . And they don’t consult with us at all, of course . . . There’s no problem with their wish to protect the residents during the coronavirus period. The question is how it’s done, with cooperation and in proportion.

Another criticism of management’s insulting attitude was expressed by Rina, a committee chair, about the blame that is put on the residents for thefts that took place in the institution. During the pandemic, when thefts became more common, so did blaming the victim. “Since the virus broke out,” Rina recounted,

The phenomenon of stealing from residents’ apartments became more prevalent because we had to leave the room while they were cleaning it in order to prevent infection. The security people also have keys to our rooms. The management’s responses were always insulting; [they claimed that] “you don’t remember.”

Feelings of exploitation and disrespect escalated during the pandemic. This understanding emerges from remarks by Judith, a chair of a sheltered housing committee:

In the wake of the pandemic, significant cuts were made, of course. Many sports and cultural activities were terminated. We’re continuing to pay full maintenance fees even when they cut back on all kinds of services for us. We’re owed a refund. Today, everything’s slowly being restored to normal, but I see that even now they’re trying to cut corners . . . Catching us with our guard down is what I call it. They hope these old folks won’t notice. And if they do notice, they’ll be afraid to open their mouths because there’s intimidation, too. We’re like a captive clientele in many ways. There’s a state of mind that we’re reverting to childhood and the nanny tells us: “naughty, naughty.”

Another disturbing phenomenon, reported by tenants’ representatives, is that management transfers various functions, such as organizing lectures and social events, to committee members as a way of saving expenses. One committee member complained about the management’s upsetting practice of recruiting committee members to be “collaborators.”

Chairs of sheltered housing committees are aware of the trap associated with expensive but comfortable living that serves the cause of profit. One of them commented:

On the one hand, the owners of the sheltered housing succeeded in creating very pampering settings that respond to many needs of older people; on the other hand, in lots of situations they exploit the fact that their clientele is aging and, in this sense, are captive. The moment a resident puts down their deposit and lives in his apartment for two or three years, it’s already very hard to leave . . . By the same token, the range of services comes with attempts by management to increase profits. They don’t treat us like customers . . . You have to understand that most of the residents here are independent people and should be treated with respect, co-opted into decision-making, and not have decisions handed down to them. But it’s also impossible to disregard the positive aspects of these places.

In other words, the residents’ representatives expect respectful and fair attitude toward the residents, especially toward those who inhabit the more expensive frameworks. They emphasize the fact that they pay much for living there and thus deserve to be treated as independent clients; and that they deserve a similar attitude preserved for older people in the community, which is perceived as different from the one provided to residents of governmental housing. Although they acknowledge the luxurious advantages they enjoy at the sheltered housing they still feel exploited and ignored when it comes to participating in decisions made over their own needs.

In their accounts the residents’ representatives revealed that the COVID-19 period increased the power gaps between “old” residents and “young” management members; they also exposed the management’s far-reaching control and supervision over their “old” clients which are more latent in “regular” times. This situation represents the intensified age-conflict during the lockdowns when older people’s dependence on younger management members deepened as their social and economic resources lost much of their effect.

The tenants’ committees are assumed to increase the power of the “weaker actors” (Emerson’s 1962, 37), the tenants, and reduce their dependency on the more powerful actor, the management. However, the tenants’ representatives’ accounts reflect their insignificant impact on managements’ decisions and attitudes toward them and the tenants. David’s, Yaffa’s, Rina’s, and Yehudit’s accounts reveal the tendency of the managements to degrade, ignore and even deceive the committees’ members and to take advantage of the tenants’ structured dependency, as having no choice. Moreover, the tenant’s committees’ members comply with the managements’ demands, as it emerges from one of the managers’ claim. They are punished for asking to participate in decision making relevant to the tenants’ needs. Freierman’s (1990) argument that the authorities are too strong to allow a marginalized group to confront them openly finds support in the tenants’ representatives’ withdrawal from their justified demands. When they are confronted with the management, the committee’s members surrender, unwilling to “force their way” or to “embarrass” their “bosses.” Hence, it appears that the managements’ control over the weakened tenants and their representatives as well as their ageist attitudes toward them were accentuated during the lockdowns.

Summary and Conclusions

The article discussed ageist attitudes toward the elderly during the COVID-19 period, as they emerged from encounters with people aged 75 and over, living at home or in out-of-home settings. The study on which the article is based also included encounters with caregivers, professionals, and management personnel.

Although only 4% of older people live in old people’s institutions only a few studies focus on the population that lives at home. This focal outlook on “old people” seems to highlight aspects of fragility and vulnerability, contributing to and reinforcing disturbing and threatening images of advanced age. It constructs an essential and generalized conceptualization of “old people” as a separate and special social category and, by implication, a weak and vulnerable one, “not quite human” (Goffman 1963, 4). “On this assumption,” Goffman argues “we exercise varieties of discrimination, through which we effectively, if often unthinkingly, reduce [the person’s] life chances” (ibid).

The encounters with older people in the various settings that were discussed undermine the generalized image of fragility and vulnerability of older people. The analysis that emerged from the encounters calls for nuanced and contextual studies relating to the elderly and to old age, comparing divergent living contexts, highlighting older individuals’ and groups’ life conditions, by listening to their experiences and interpretations. This approach to studying older people’s lives proposes a normalizing gaze at “old age” and its “carriers” (Hazan 1984).

The events that took place during the pandemic made it clear that elders’ place of residence has implications for the exercise of their human rights, attaining basic needs, and even their prospects of living. Moreover, even at the sheltered housing facilities, which serve relatively affluent populations and provide a range of services and a high standard of living, it transpired during the lockdowns that residents could be deprived of the ability to exercise their freedom of movement and to maintain contact with their families “outside.” This highlights the potential of disentitlement in places that are separated from general society and designated for age-labeled groups. The hit to those living in out-of-home institutions when the pandemic erupted was the most salient outcome of the lockdowns.

The analysis of the encounters with older people living in all types of residence revealed that experiencing isolation was especially acute in institutional, out-of-home settings. Residents of those places often described them as “closed” institutions and even as “prison/jail/trap.” These images were conspicuous in residents’ and their representatives’ claims about silencing or ignoring their voices. The residents’ complaints about the way they were treated in both sheltered housing and public settings for older people suggest that during COVID era, they adopted some blatant characteristics of “total institutions” (Goffman 1961). These facilities constructed and reinforced the distance between wards/residents and management/staff; imposed a routine that facilitated far reaching control of life in the institution and of its residents; and conveyed a false sense of tenants’ control over their lives.

Analyzing the encounters with older people living at home revealed ageist attitudes as well. It was reflected in children’s implied restraint on older parents’ movement and in limiting their right to make decisions about themselves by themselves.

Another aspect that emerged from the study is the subtle, latent, nature of ageism. This ageism is unspoken, communicated mainly through pitying or self-righteous behavior that implicitly belittles the person. It is associated with fear and dread of proximity to “carriers of death,” on the one hand, and concern for them, on the other. This subtle ageism is associated with inadvertent disregard of elders’ words in a way that effectively silences them. In this kind of ageism, the elder is so transparent as to be absent. It produces, inexplicitly, behavior that minimizes elderly people and confirms their image as “in need,” mindless, and irrelevant.

Focusing on ageism during COVID-19 generated an opportunity to examine issues associated with this social phenomenon, mainly due to the amplification of stereotypical ageist attitudes in the public, in the media and in scholarly discourse at that period.

Summarizing the encounters and their analysis, two prominent social themes should be emphasized: patronization and segregation. “Patronage,” as a concept which combines power–dependence relations (Emerson 1962) and “the rhetoric of help, care, and aid”, implies “control and/or domination disguised by the rhetoric of egalitarianism, humanism, feminism, and so forth” (Hertzog 2011, 47). This implication was revealed by the attitudes to older people living at home (mainly by family members) and to those who live in out-of-home residence (especially by the managers). The patronizing attitude and claims about the need to protect older people were exposed as justifying the control over (all) older people.

It is suggested that expanding the research about older people living at home, who are relatively integrated in the wider society, may contribute to reducing the categorized stigmatizing images attached to older people, which emerge implicitly from focusing on segregated communities in out-of-home institutions.

Comparing the situation of people living at home to those who live in out-of-home frameworks during COVID-19 exposed the potentially fatal outcomes in crisis times, associated with people’s segregation in institutions, This implication highlights the relative advantage of older people living at home. The analysis suggested that forming structured age separation and segregation contributes to controlling people, justifying it by claims about their need of protection. This claim was stressed during the lockdowns especially in settings for older people. Studying the bureaucratic absorption of immigrants from Ethiopia in Israel Hertzog (1999) demonstrated how their concentration in absorption centers and their treatment as a needy category facilitated their ongoing supervision and the emergence of their stigmatized image.

The researchers’ understanding is that social integration, as opposed to structured segregation, contributes to reducing ageist attitudes (and ethnocentric attitudes at large), such as the ones reported by the interviewees in older people’s facilities. The implications for policy making are that public resources should be vested in developing health and social services within the community for the benefit of older people living at home.