History does not tend to remember Otto von Bismarck, Germany's arch-conservative 19th-century chancellor, as a kindly sort of chap, concerned with the wellbeing of his fellow citizens. And yet, awkwardly, it may be him we have to thank for the modern ideal of retirement - the abandonment of the rat race in favour of Saga culture, with its endless opportunities for travel and learning and growth. 

"Anybody who has before him the prospect of a pension, be it ever so small, in old age and infirmity is much happier and more contented in his lot, much more tractable and easy to manage," he noted, apropos the limited scheme he introduced in Germany. Which is certainly one way of making the argument. 
Amid the furor over the possible rise in the age of pension eligibility, from 65 to 67, it is worth remembering just how modern the whole debate is: retirement as we know it is almost entirely a 20th-century idea. To be fair, Britain had had something resembling a government-organised pension scheme - for injured sailors - since the 1600s. (You can still see the Chatham Chest, the strongbox in which the funds were kept, at the Chatham historical naval dockyard.) But the country didn't follow Bismarck's lead with a recognisable state pension until 1909, after which those over-70s who were deemed to deserve it received a sum of between one and five shillings per week. Before that, if you had to - and if you were physically capable - you worked until you died. So what explains the sacredness that now seems to attach to 65, as the age at which retirement ought to begin? 

It was the 1925 Contributory Pensions Act that first enshrined 65 as the pensionable age for men, though it was 1946 before the scheme became universal. But at the time of the 1925 act, the life expectancy of a newborn male baby was about 56. Retirement was never envisaged as a stage that almost everyone would reach - and even those who did so could not expect to enjoy it for more than around 11 years, on average. "Obviously, that had implications for the financing of the scheme," says Hugh Pemberton, an expert on the history of pensions at Bristol University. "There was just a much smaller set of pensioners."
 
Compare that with today. Since 1946, life expectancy at birth has increased by about 10 years, and people who reach 65 can look forward, on average, to almost two more decades of life. Apply the same reasoning as in 1946, and we would not be arguing about a rise in pension age from 65 to 67. We would be talking about working until you were 75 or 80, today's life expectancies for British men and women. Much as that might thrill the Treasury, it is a suggestion that would, one suspects, put the current furore in a certain amount of perspective.