3 min read
As a species, humans have long been preoccupied with living longer and healthier lives. However, prior to the advent of modern medicine, any real prospect of fulfilling these ambitions existed more in the realms of fantasy, than actual medical reality.
One of the earliest sustained reflections on ageing appears in the work of the Roman statesman and philosopher Marcus Tullius Cicero (106–43 BCE), who wrote Cato Maior de Senectute in 44 BCE. [1] Although commonly regarded a work of philosophical consolation for old age, the text is not simply an invitation to accept biological decline. On the contrary, Cicero portrays ageing as something to be actively resisted, even likening it to disease:
“But it is our duty, my young friends, to resist old age; to compensate for its defects by a watchful care; to fight against it as we would fight against disease; to adopt a regimen of health; to practise moderate exercise; and to take just enough of food and drink to restore our strength and not to overburden it.”
Seen in context, Cicero’s comparison is striking, but clearly metaphorical. In a world where ageing lay largely beyond the reach of medical intervention, it was merely something to be endured and philosophically reframed, rather than clinically treated. Today, however, advances in biology and medicine increasingly allow us to measure, modify, and intervene in the processes that underlie ageing. Against that backdrop, Cicero’s analogy begins to feel less rhetorical and more literal, raising a more challenging question: should ageing itself be considered a disease?
Before addressing that question directly, it is worth pausing to consider what we actually mean by “disease”. While several definitions exist, the boundaries of this classification have never been determined by biology alone. What counts as disease is, and always has been, influenced by cultural and societal context.
Some of the most troubling examples come from the 19th century, when American physician Samuel A. Cartwright classified certain behaviours among enslaved people as medical disorders. He coined terms such as “drapetomania” to explain attempts to escape captivity, and “dysaesthesia aethiopica” to describe supposed lethargy or disobedience. [2] Thankfully, these “conditions” are now recognised for what they were: pseudoscientific constructs rooted in prejudice rather than medicine.
Although such examples are extreme, they illustrate a broader point. The label “disease” is not static; it is shaped by our ever-changing, prevailing social values. Even today, this remains evident. The ongoing debate around obesity, for instance, highlights the tension between medical classification and social interpretation. Many institutions now recognise obesity as a disease, which can facilitate access to treatment. Yet critics argue that this framing risks oversimplifying complex socio‑economic realities and may contribute to stigma by reframing them as individual medical failings.
In that sense, classifying a condition as a disease can be both enabling and limiting. It can open pathways to treatment and support, but it can also shape how individuals are perceived, sometimes in unhelpful or even harmful ways.
Against this backdrop, ageing sits in an uneasy position. Medically, disease is often defined (such as by the National Cancer Institute) as “an abnormal condition that affects the structure or function of the body and is usually associated with specific signs and symptoms.” [3] Because ageing is both universal and expected, the process itself has long been considered a normal part of being human, placing it firmly outside this definition.
However, as we have seen, the line between “normal” and “pathological” has shifted before. In the context of ageing, even now widely recognised pathological conditions (think osteoporosis, isolated systolic hypertension, and Alzheimer’s disease) were once regarded as inevitable features of ageing. [4],[5]
This itself raises a difficult question. If we are prepared to treat the consequences of ageing, should we also be targeting the underlying process itself? And if we do so, are we moving toward prevention, or instead, are we moving towards redefining a universal human experience as inherently pathological?
Reclassifying ageing as a disease would be a significant shift, with far‑reaching implications for medicine, healthcare systems, and society.
Tell me more!
In some senses, the benefits could be substantial.
In 2025, the Centre for Ageing Better reported that nearly half of people aged 50–69 (49%) and almost two‑thirds of those aged 70 and over (63%) live with a long‑standing illness, with many experiencing limitations in day‑to‑day activities. Slowing or modifying the ageing process itself could reduce the burden of these conditions, with knock‑on effects for hospital admissions and waiting times. Not only would this improve the quality of life for many older individuals, but it would also reduce overall pressure on healthcare systems.
Given that advanced age is also one of the biggest risk factors for a wide range of non‑infectious diseases, including cancer and diabetes, intervening in the biology of ageing itself also offers the tantalising possibility of targeting some of the shared biological drivers of many of humankind’s biggest killers.[6],[7]
Beyond the benefits to individuals and the wider healthcare system, there are also broader economic considerations. Healthier ageing could allow individuals to remain active for longer, whether through continued employment, volunteering, or other forms of societal participation.[8]At a time when many countries are facing ageing populations and rising healthcare costs, maintaining independence and function into later life has implications not just for individual wellbeing, but for economic resilience more broadly.
Ok… so what are the downsides?
Despite these potential advantages, there are also significant concerns.
One of the most immediate is the risk of consumer exploitation. The global anti‑ageing industry already capitalises on anxieties about growing older. Framing ageing as a disease could intensify demand for “preventative” interventions, some of which may be unproven or poorly regulated. [9] At the same time, genuinely effective therapies, should they emerge, are likely to be expensive, potentially widening existing inequalities. Those unable to access high‑cost treatments may instead turn to cheaper, less reliable alternatives, raising both safety and equity concerns.
Closely linked to this is the risk of reinforcing ageism. If ageing is framed primarily as pathology, later life may increasingly be viewed through the lens of decline and dysfunction. This risks blurring the distinction between disease and difference, encouraging the perception that older individuals are defined by impairment rather than capability or experience.[10] Such narratives could subtly shape attitudes in areas such as employment, healthcare decision‑making, and social participation, reinforcing stereotypes that are already difficult to dismantle.
There is also the question of resource allocation. Because ageing affects the entire population, classifying it as a disease could shift research priorities in ways that prioritise scale over unmet need.[11] Areas that are already underfunded, such as mental health, women’s health, or rare diseases, may struggle to compete for attention and funding, despite their significant impact on those affected. The risk is not simply inefficiency, but the amplification of existing imbalances within healthcare systems.
Ultimately, while the scientific case for intervening in the biology of ageing is becoming increasingly persuasive, the broader implications remain complex. Without safe, effective, and ethically grounded interventions, the idea of treating ageing as a disease may remain more conceptual than practical.
What is clear, however, is that any such shift would extend beyond medicine. In particular, it would have significant implications for intellectual property. Patents relating to anti‑ageing therapies, biomarkers, and longevity platforms have the potential to become highly valuable assets, as research in this area accelerates. Even in the absence of formal reclassification, the pace of innovation in longevity science continues to increase, and we look forward to supporting businesses and inventors as these developments move into real‑world application.
[1] https://penelope.uchicago.edu/thayer/e/roman/texts/cicero/cato_maior_de_senectute/text*.html
[2] https://mhanational.org/resources/african-mental-health-historical-context-and-cultural-beliefs/#:~:text=Race%20and%20slavery%20overlap%20with,relatively%20erased%20from%20history%20books.
[3] https://www.cancer.gov/publications/dictionaries/cancer-terms/def/disease
[4] https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC317305/
[5] https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC3001315/
[6] https://www.thelancet.com/journals/lanhl/article/PIIS2666-7568(22)00154-4/fulltext
[7] https://www.who.int/news-room/fact-sheets/detail/cancer#:~:text=Key%20facts,risk%20factor%20for%20lung%20cancer.
[8] https://www.biorxiv.org/content/10.64898/2026.01.22.701157v1.full
[9] https://www.hmsreview.org/issue-10/2025/the-medicalization-of-aging#:~:text=Ultimately%2C%20recasting%20aging%20as%20an,life%20phase%20deserving%20of%20aspiration.
[10] https://www.hmsreview.org/issue-10/2025/the-medicalization-of-aging#:~:text=Ultimately%2C%20recasting%20aging%20as%20an,life%20phase%20deserving%20of%20aspiration.
[11] https://www.hmsreview.org/issue-10/2025/the-medicalization-of-aging#:~:text=Ultimately%2C%20recasting%20aging%20as%20an,life%20phase%20deserving%20of%20aspiration.
Emily is a patent technical assistant in our life sciences team. She joined Mewburn Ellis LLP in 2022. Emily specialises in Molecular and cell biology Genomics, Immunology and has an additional interest in cancer biology.
Email: emily.garnett@mewburn.com
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