Introduction

A menopause ‘revolution’ is happening. In the UK, people are marching in parks, signing petitions, demonstrating outside Parliament and demanding education, care and work policies for all who are experiencing menopause symptoms (Menopause Mandate nd). In the Nordic country of Finland, new books and films on the subject are frequently released and digital sites are booming with ‘sisterhood’ support (Edwards et al 2021). In Latvia, menopause appears in the media more often, though almost exclusively with expert knowledge provided by medical doctors. These activities point towards varied geographies of increased awareness on this crucial gendered process, which is spatially distinct. While the extant medicalized approach acknowledges large geographical differences in symptom experience, it typically does not consider the social process of this human condition. What we are witnessing in the 2020s is people demanding that experts recognize and value their lived experiences.

In this chapter, I argue that the diversity lens and geography are fundamental in seeking answers to social change around menopause awareness. Moreover, not only does menopause affect more than half the population, but it involves myriad human and more- than- human interconnections. Nor is it a one- off event; menopausing, an apt term used by McCall and Potter (2022), is a temporal, spatial and, of course, sharply gendered process that stretches over decades in midlife and beyond. Amini and McCormack (2019) refer to it as ‘menopausal time’, a process rather than a singular biological event. These ways of seeing serve as a departure point to decipher temporalities of menopause. And there is more. The long process of menopausing, which is one of the most divisive, stereotyped, scary yet potentially empowering and place- and culture- specific personal processes, operates within historical and contemporary power relations of ageism and patriarchy. It needs to be addressed as historical oppression, showing women's place in the world (Domosh and Seager 2001). But before making arguments for diversity, awareness of multiplicity and activism, I unpack the contexts that have led to patriarchal and ageist views of this important process. The chapter therefore builds on temporal, spatial and scalar takes on social change.

Introduction

I could not write for a year. For the first time since I can remember in my writing career, I literally could not type anything more than short sentences. Consequently, I postponed submission of this book. In hindsight, I believe that might have been a blessing in disguise. Prior to this pause in my writing, my intention was to create a book that could serve as a primer on geographical approaches to midlife in the context of our rapidly ageing world in the 21st century. I wanted to explore questions such as: What is midlife? How is it changing? Answers to these questions, which are bound by lifecourse, time and space, are long overdue in geography. I observed a dearth of research on midlife geographies, in stark contrast to the extensive studies on geographies of children, youth and older age over the past decade. As part of the ‘sandwich’ generation, individuals in midlife bear the heavy burden of both work and caregiving. Nevertheless, this crucial and shifting middle- aged cohort has received inadequate attention in the realms of geographical and social sciences scholarship.

However, both my life and the way I approached writing this book underwent significant changes. Instead of engaging in writing, I delved into extensive reading. Furthermore, I immersed myself in fieldwork, researching ageing in one project and studying transnational families and mobile individuals in another. This shift allowed me to discover the art of listening and observing with fresh eyes (Rubin and Rubin 2005). On revisiting interviews and field diaries from my earlier research on youth and ageing, I noticed elements that had previously eluded my understanding. These pertained to midlife as a significant process with its turning points, repertoires borrowed from popular media, reflections on life and relationships, and bodily changes. I realized that my personal experiences since completing those studies – with major turning points in my working life, the death of my father, ageing relatives and the challenges of raising a child transnationally, plus the sudden onset of anxiety and health scare – meant that I was a different researcher now compared to 10 or 15 years ago.

Introduction

In this chapter, I consider transitions in midlife. I show how midlife has been defined in research. I also provide insights from my research with middle- aged migrants in Latvia, the UK and Nordic countries, and non-migrants in Latvia, where most of my recent research has been conducted. I draw on the Handbook of Midlife Development, edited by Lachman (2001); in its tone- setting first chapter, Staudinger and Bluck (2001) muse on reasons for the relative paucity of theoretical research on midlife at the time. They came up with two main conclusions: it is not easy to define midlife through the notion of chronological age; and the margins around people's forties and fifties are very flexible, and people can have midlife lifestyles, economics and social outlooks in their thirties and well into their sixties.

Taking the first of Staudinger and Bluck's (2001) conclusions, it is clear that definition of midlife based on age is an oversimplification. And very similar discussions take place in research on youth and older age transitions. Chronological age and lifecourse transitions are relational. In the meantime, there has been a considerable shift in the definition of midlife in statistical practice, with the age range shifting so that the period starts and ends later, and, relatedly, shifts in academic discourses and everyday affairs. Thus the young are considered young for considerably longer – at least up to age 34 according to typical Eurostat (2020) datasets, or even up to 40 according to various policies. Then comes the middle, which leads to older age beginning somewhere close to people's sixties, although recently this too has been pushed into the seventies and eighties, clearly due to increasing longevity. The solution that Staudinger and Bluck (2001) propose is helpful: to look at midlife as two related and quite distinct phases, early midlife and late midlife. In chronological terms, this would be before and after one's fifties, because around the age of 50, for biological, social and economic reasons, people in typical Western lifecourses turn their focus to health maintenance and the potential onset of chronic conditions, since children are often (but not always) grown up, and older midlifers start seriously thinking about retirement plans and investments.

Introduction

This chapter offers key conclusions and a policy focus in the hope of going some way to bridging the large gap between youth and older age studies and, thus, addressing the relative lack of geographical curiosity about midlife which has prevented us from seeing the diversity of middle- aged people and the plurality of their lifecourses over time and space. In this short book, it was not my aim to provide a thorough analysis; instead, I wanted to issue an invitation to: look with curiosity at midlife bodies, transitions, spaces and being in the middle of the lifecourse; and join the efforts to push forward this fascinating research field. I emphasize that midlife can neither be hollowed out by perpetuating demands for youthfulness nor ‘swallowed’ by the increasing tide of literature advancing older age geographies. The in- betweenness of this concept is a strength for geographical enquiry and policies that aim to improve people's capabilities.

Between youth and ageing geographies

‘Knowledge is a social creation’, claim Monk and Hanson (1982) in their famous article ‘On not excluding half of the human in human geography’. It is not surprising, given their analysis of the history of gender research in geography, that we need to be critical towards omissions of midlife in knowledge production. Midlife geographies, similarly, have been largely overlooked in the discipline despite midlife being a highly complex and pivotal stage in the lifecourse that produces spaces and practices through intergenerational relations (Hopkins and Pain 2007). This is not because we do not have a specific definition of midlife. I do not think that it is useful to provide a strict, fixed definition of midlife which would clearly mark this lifecourse stage between youth and older age. In terms of what midlife is, the answer would be that it is a contingent construct. As such, it is important to understand how it was academically invented and what the consequences are of this invention. Intergenerational time, temporality and timing, seen through ‘markers’ of midlife events or transitions – all affect and shape the layers of the concept of midlife.

Introduction

The ways people tell stories about midlife are important. With stories, we learn broad contexts, we see what tropes and ideas are perpetuated, abandoned, contested and sometimes resurrected. Some such tropes – for example, ‘midlife crisis’ (Jaques 1965) – are embraced at certain times and in certain genres, while at other times they are vehemently criticized as an empty invention. At the same time, psychologists argue that midlife, especially gendered midlife, is a pivotal time with complex and changing psychosocial needs (Sherman 1987; Rosenfeld 2004). While the narratives in this chapter are not exhaustive, they crucially shaped the ways in which the people I met and observed as part of my research sought or imagined ways of sailing through midlife.

I look at co- existent perspectives, and narratives and counternarratives, drawing on work by Gullette (2016), who has demonstrated how the overwhelming socialization of the Western cult of youth gave rise to anxieties and neuroses about any signs of ageing. I draw on Frank's (1995) theory from crip studies, productively applied by Amini and McCormack (2019), who have studied menopause in non- Western contexts to discern what kind of storylines about midlife are solidifying in different geographic and social locations. Frank (1995) distinguished between three typical storylines of the wounded storyteller. In Frank's (1995) theory, a chaos story depicts transformations that seem never- ending, while restitution narratives rest on the idea that a normal life and full health can be restored after an unsettling event. In parallel, quest narratives seek transformation, with the protagonist becoming someone new as a result of the experience. Due to my own positionality as a woman in midlife, and as an avid reader across the social sciences and humanities, I am fascinated by the diversity of narratives and how they illustrate the relationships between cultural geographies, narrativity, emotions and power (Sharp 2009). I am inspired by stories of Black midlife and menopause drawing on different forms of knowledge that fuse emotion, the character of age, mythology and new forms of resistance (cf Harding 1991). However, I begin with the popular narratives that call on the middle aged to adopt introspection or to fix themselves using neoliberal techniques.

Introduction

In this chapter, I analyse two key processes that unfold in midlife and are specifically shaped by midlife, namely processes related to home and relationships. Key literatures emphasize the latter but not the former. Due to my engagement with migrants in my research, the relevance of home is immediately obvious. This was one of the central processes, if not the key process, in the lives of most of the research participants.

Since Latvians who are currently middle aged have experienced dramatic changes in the economy and property regimes, the broader structural factors related to the historical period they have lived through are highly relevant to understanding their individual experiences of home. During the Soviet period – that is, from 1945 until 1991 – private property was restricted: few people owned houses and even those who did needed to privatize and re- register their properties after the Soviet Union collapsed. Denationalization and privatization shaped home ownership and changed lives in what we could see as class processes, following Western theories (Lulle 2023). Denationalization means that previous owners or their ancestors could reclaim real estate and land owned before the Second World War and the Soviet occupation. This process led to significant changes in living conditions for most people: owners gained important capital, even if the houses they got back were dilapidated and required significant renovation. Others became tenants and were subject to radical change in rental prices, which meant that many could not afford rents or that they had to leave denationalized properties. Privatization certificates were issued, based on how long people had worked under Soviet rule and on their age (that is, certificates were lifecourse related). All participants in my research on midlife were children or teenagers when these processes took place. Hence, their positioning in terms of property ownership or rental was shaped by these political and economic changes along with, for some, opportunities to inherit a house or a flat in midlife. Therefore, not only work but also, crucially, home ownership arrangements contributed towards security or precarity for this generation (Grenier et al 2020).

Introduction

Drawing on empirical data largely collected in 2017–2019 from focus groups (FGs), a Freedom of Information (FoI) request and biographical interview data, this chapter seeks to set out the systemic context of what is currently happening in the delivery of planning services in the UK. It sets out and reflects on what is driving these decisions: austerity, government policy preferences, local authorities’ (LAs) choices and consultancies’ involvement. It also sets out and discusses the arrangements that LAs are adopting to provide services, and where consultants and others fit into these arrangements. The aim is to consider the extent to which we might consider UK planning as privatised, the forms this is taking and how common the different forms of privatisation are. We frame this considering the broad definition of privatisation given in Chapter 1, encompassing the various ways in which public sector organisations have been wholly or partly sold off, outsourced or opened up to new forms of discipline and modes of working originating from the private sector.

Importantly, the responsibility to strategically plan for development (create a statutory local plan) and to regulate what is developed through development management decisions remains with the local planning authority (LPA, usually the relevant LA). This may take a variety of forms (this is discussed later on). All other actors involved in the process know that decisions on development must be made by the LPA. The design of the system enables commercial consultants to sell planning, legal and other expertise to clients who need this type of knowledge and experience to navigate the system to achieve their ends.

Consecutive central governments have widened the scope of how LA service provision, including planning provision, might be carried out, with a suggestion for more privatised solutions (for example, Audit Commission, 2006). Austerity, a focus on ‘delivery’ targets and shortages in the supply of planning staff have also shaped how the service might be provided by an LPA. Therefore, this chapter sets this statutory requirement as the baseline around which to consider the privatisation of this service, and sets out the different forms of provision of planning services.

Introduction

Recent research has begun to fill the silence that Michael Dear (1989) diagnosed about the privatisation of planning expertise. An emerging literature has generated critical questions about the ideological, political and ethical implications of planning work being provided to paying clients through competitive markets. Understandably, much of this literature explores processes of privatisation and their effects in the contemporary context of neoliberal pressures for reform and reorganisation (for example, Moore, 2012; Raco, 2018; Zanotto, 2019; Linovski, 2019).

Under neoliberal government, distinctions between the public and private have been key to political projects to remake the state and the ways in which it governs. Public institutions and modes of working have been routinely criticised while ‘private’ enterprise has been celebrated for its proclaimed efficiency and effectiveness. Planning in its broadest sense, as a form of collective guidance of societal development, has been a particular object of criticism for neoliberal ideologues, generating pressure for market-orientated reforms.

Those contesting neoliberal drives towards privatisation have often viewed the past 40 years through a lens of declining publicness (Brown, 2015), considering the reworking of older configurations of public and private as a marked retreat from important values associated with distinctively public institutions and norms. However, metanarratives of decline may obscure the multiple and sometimes contradictory ways in which ideas of public-ness and their relations to private- ness have been articulated over time across different areas of social and political life (Geuss, 2001; Newman and Clarke, 2009). Therefore, focusing solely on the ways in which the ‘grand dichotomy’ (Weintraub, 1997) between public and private has been drawn under neoliberal rule may also limit our understanding of the range of possible meanings that have been associated with both public and private sector planning expertise.