Life is about to change on the remote island nation of Tuvalu. And not, in my opinion, for the better. To great fanfare, Tuvalu – an entirely cash-based society – has unveiled its first ever ATM, marking its move towards financial modernisation. But while the 10,000 people living in that country may be celebrating no longer having to queue at the bank, I fear their happiness will be short-lived. It’s the start of the slow erosion of human contact that heralds the dehumanisation of yet another society.
The world’s first ATM was introduced in Britain in 1967, but for me the tyranny of machines that promise convenience but erode human contact really began about 20 years ago, in the form of self-checkouts in our local Sainsbury’s. Having watched the Terminator movie franchise during my formative years, I railed prophetically against them, aware that it was just a small slippery slope from “unexpected item in the bagging area” to the extinction of the human race. I wrote about my fear of these machines with their Dalek-like commands and even started a short-lived and extremely unpopular Facebook campaign against them. But like a modern-day Cassandra, I was doomed to be ignored.
To be clear: I’m no luddite. While I admit I am not an early adopter, I do have the latest iPhone, spend far more time than is wise on social media and can frequently be heard barking orders at an Alexa device. I’m also well aware that technology can make life easier, simpler, quicker and more efficient. The problem is, it has insidiously crept into areas of life where it has no purpose other than to replace human interaction. And that has left society poorer and far more miserable.
Today, automated checkouts have not only taken over supermarkets (where often they’re the only option unless you want to buy a scratchcard or cigarettes), they have also appeared in pharmacies and clothes retailers. Customer services departments have been decimated, helplines substituted with AI chatbots, and local bank branches replaced by apps.
It’s easy to see why. Machines make model employees. They don’t have rights or belong to unions, and they don’t require sick pay or holidays. A rise in the minimum wage or employer’s national insurance rates are irrelevant to them. If they break, you fix them or simply replace them. Never mind those who most need this type of work – school-leavers, the unskilled, disabled people. And forget elderly shoppers, for whom a chat with a cashier might be the only human contact of the day.
Retailers claim customers love dealing with machines. Do we? A survey by the Belonging Forum found nearly half of UK adults (48%) are more likely to return to shops where they’re served by a person rather than a self-checkout.
The other day, when I had to contact my bank, it took lots of Googling to find its (well-hidden) customer services number. When I finally got through to someone, I expressed my preference for talking to a person over using an app because I have fat thumbs, and because it’s so much more pleasant and efficient. “I’m old school,” I stated. The young woman responded kindly by offering to send me information on “courses to improve your digital skills”. She might as well have suggested a blue rinse and a freedom pass to boot. For the record, my digital skills are fine, dear. My middle-aged pride, on the other hand, is rather wounded.
Age does appear to be a big factor in our attitude towards technology. In 2017, a survey by LivePerson found that 69.4% of gen Z and millennial respondents would choose a messaging app over a phone app if they could keep only one. But we also know how much reliance on technology and lack of human contact are damaging young people’s mental health. And employers frequently complain that young new recruits come to them unable to make a simple phone call or converse with colleagues or customers.
Loneliness is now an epidemic. In 2023, the World Health Organization (WHO) declared it to be a global health threat, with its mortality effects equivalent to smoking 15 cigarettes a day. Human contact isn’t just more pleasant, it’s also essential.
There are signs that the tide may be turning. A supermarket chain in the Netherlands, Jumbo, introduced slower checkouts in 2019 for any customers who prefer to chat to a human being. The initiative aims to tackle loneliness, particularly in elderly customers.
Hell, it turns out, is not other people. It’s being caught in the ninth circle of an automated telephone answering service, which can’t understand your commands and takes you back to the same menu again and again. But here’s a little tip for you: if you scream “human being” when asked which option you’d like, it usually works. For now, at least.
