Most all the seats around me are taken as I sit in the Tucson airport waiting for a flight to Oakland. At least two-thirds of the people are focused on texting or playing computer games while very few rest quietly doing nothing.
I feel uncomfortable just sitting here so I take out my computer and start writing what you are now reading. I am answering the subtle call that I don’t just do nothing but do something, or at least appear to the strangers around me that I am busy. I am glad my phone is in my pocket and if it buzzes, I will stop typing and respond to whom or what has contacted me. Most of us feel uneasy when our phones are not within easy reach. Connectivity can become an addiction—when we receive a text our nervous system responds by giving us a shot of dopamine, and we want to immediately see what it says regardless of where we are, what we are doing, or who we are with.
A four-year old girl sits behind me playing a computer game with whistles and bells going off and a robotic voice congratulating her when she pushes the right button. The computerized voice seems to really like her. She shyly says “thank you” when congratulated. It is only a machine, right?
My generation grew up playing Tic-Tac-Toe, UNO, and the card game “War.” As we aged, we graduated to Checkers, Monopoly and, for the elite amongst us, the game of Chess. This morning I see kids engrossed with computer games that I have not a clue how to play.
COMING OF THE ROBOT
Simultaneously with the advancement of computers and games, robots have moved from only providing physical support services such as vacuuming the living room floor to social robots that interact with us and express support, understanding, and a listening ear. Robots can be pet dogs and even counselors, providing understanding along with a helping hand.
Even our phones have moved from giving objective information to providing social support. When I ask my Apple iPhone “How are you today?” it responds, “I am happy to be here.” When I say, “I feel sad,” it responds, “You can always talk to me.” I ask, “Are you happy?” and get this reply, “I am quite content. I hope you are too.” When did my Apple phone become an “I?” Does it really have emotions? When I ask, “How do you feel?” it answers, “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” Of course, it doesn’t have emotions. And yet….
Winston Churchill once said, “We shape our buildings and then they shape us.” Or as Shakespeare noted in Sonnet 73: “consumed with that which we were nourished by.” Today we make our technologies and then they shape and consume us. We sacrifice solitude and interrupt intimacy with ready access to a mechanical communication device that demands our immediate response.
AGING, INTIMACY, AND A MECHANICAL “CREATURE”
Sherry Turkle’s book, Alone Together, provides the foundational thought for this article. She discusses Para, the most therapeutic robot in the world, now being used to help the elderly with physical and emotional needs. Seniors living at home speak glowingly about the warmth and love that Para brings them. Para has proven capable of calming the distraught and depressed. With skyrocketing numbers of seniors, diminishing numbers of caretakers, and the rising cost of caregiving, robotic assistance for the elderly is becoming a major business focus. With growing frequency both in the home and institutions robots such as Para are coming to the rescue.
Even the most committed caretakers will say that robots address the “trouble” of old age by service support. Many seniors become more comfortable talking to the robot than talking to a person. The robot “listens” without judgment to deeply personal issues that the elderly need to work through. Many seniors in an MIT study felt “heard” even though the robot cannot hear as people do.
It is a complicated and confusing situation. 20 years ago, we turned to other people or perhaps pets to find companionship and understanding. Now robots are being added to the mix. And yet words like sincere, trustworthy, kind, sensitive, don’t fit a robot deplete of emotions.
SOLITUDE AND COMMUNION
I was recently in the hospital where a robot named da Vinci performed surgery on me as it was controlled by the human surgeon who operated it via a computer. Right before going under I remember thinking, “I hope the surgeon is good at playing Mario Brothers.”
Following successful surgery, I would have had no problem having a robot dispense medication, make my bed, or bring me pills. But the hospital experience reminded me of the limitations of robots. I needed human contact, the sensitivity of the nurse, the smile and kind words from a CNA, the thoughtful direction of the physician, and family and friends reaching out to me. When it comes to truly caring, human touch and concern go where no robotic substitute can.
Mitch Albom spent most Tuesdays with Morrie Schwartz as he was dying. At one point, Morrie commented to Mitch, “I felt a little ashamed, because our culture tells us we should be ashamed if we can’t wipe our own behind. The strangest thing…I began to enjoy my dependence…I close my eyes and soak it up.”
Mitch: “I looked at Morrie and suddenly knew why he so enjoyed my adjusting his pillow or wiping his eyes. Human touch. At 78 he was giving as an adult and taking as a child.” Morrie’s times of silence were fulfilling because he knew he was loved.
Caring presence and touch provide communion with others and celebrates our commonality. Robots remind us that loving care goes where the mechanical cannot. With all its challenges, we care, and know anew each day, we need each other.
Written by: Hartzell Cobbs
Hartzell Cobbs is the retired CEO of Mountain States Group (now Jannus, Inc.), a diverse nonprofit human service organization. He is the author of the recent book, RavenWind, that is available through outlets such as Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Archway Publishing. His first book, Thanatos and the Sage: A Spiritual Approach to Aging, is available through Amazon.
More about Dr. Cobbs’ latest book, Ravenwind…
From ancient lore, down millenniums, traveling through worldwide mythologies, legends, and folktales, the mythical raven is entwined in the history of mankind. Most researchers agree that about twenty thousand years ago the first Americans came from Siberia across the Bering Land Bridge to what is now North America. The Siberians and their shamans were accompanied by the mythical raven who mediated between the physical and spiritual worlds.
With the Siberian influence, Northwest Native American mythology speaks of the raven as creator, destroyer, and trickster. As in Siberia, raven soars on the wind between the great spirit/mystery and the physical world. Raven teaches respect for earth and the oneness of all that is.
In RavenWind, author Hartzell Cobbs offers at look at the raven’s role in world history and in Native American myths, legends, and folktales. He tells how the raven of folklore calls one to follow, to listen, and experience life with all its complexity, insight, ambiguity, contraction, and humor. With an emphasis on Native American tradition, Cobbs explores the presence of mythical raven in the mundane.
