“How bizarre and tyrannical a vision of progress may become when it seeks to remove the human element from every human activity”
The above quote is from Matthew Crawford’s book ‘Why We Drive’ which takes on the vision of autonomous vehicles. But this observation is true of a wider shift in our relationship with the physical world. Pandemic restrictions have also prompted and accelerated moves to online shopping and qualitative research prompting the dilution of the human element.
All necessary. But more concerning is the apparent embrace of these moves without much concern for what risks being lost.
Common themes run through the switch to autonomous vehicles, online shopping and online qualitative research and I want to examine the balance between what we might gain and lose from this trend.
Autonomous vehicles
Fully autonomous vehicles offer personal and societal benefits. Drivers can use their time to be more productive and efficient or to enjoy more leisure time. More broadly, safety systems remove human errors and accidents. Further, software enables vehicles to ‘speak to’ each other and plot the most efficient routes, which all makes for smoother, predictable time management.
Excited? We’re already slipping away from full engagement with our vehicles with the iterative introduction of active safety systems steadily removing human agency from driving, giving ever greater control to the car.
But driving is more than passage from A to B, it offers so much more on a human level. When we drive, we take control, The car is an extension of our desire for movement; we can roam at will and take spontaneous decisions that autonomous travel wouldn’t allow as shown here.
Further, when we’re self-navigating, we learn more about our environment and build mental maps. Think how much better an idea of ‘where we are’ the driver has than the passenger in an unfamiliar setting.
We also choose how we engage with the vehicle, as an extension of ourselves – which can make driving fun. Further, the visceral involvement and connection with something mechanical driving provides can be life affirming and seen as a skill to master. For some the alternative to driving isn’t taking the bus, it’s a session at the drum kit or at the golf range, a physical activity in which to become absorbed and which is satisfying for its own sake.
Finally, driving is a social activity. We engage with other road users in situations which demand compromise. This helps maintain a sense of civic belonging; we embed ourselves in a wider community by our active agency – something totally lacking when ‘the grid’ determines the passage of our autonomous pod through its predetermined route.
Ultimately, with autonomy, we become infantilised; toddlers again, strapped into our booster seats unable to exert any agency.
Online shopping
Lockdowns have accelerated the trend towards online shopping. Its advocates tell us how much more efficient it is. Seen as a way of acquiring goods, then, it’s difficult to disagree.
But shopping is more than that. Such a truth feels implicit in the term ‘window shopping’ where we enjoy the theatre of widow displays or displays inside the store – we dream of buying things that we can’t afford.
With online shopping we lose the spontaneity that physically visiting stores provides. In-store we’re distracted by things we’ve no real intention of buying or even buy them on impulse – often our most exciting purchases.
Physical shopping also means having all our senses stimulated in a way impossible via screen-based browsing. We buy based on touch smell and sound as well as looks; whether a car door closes with a tinny ‘clang’ or a solid-sounding ‘thunk’ is often spoken of as a test of build quality amongst car buyers.
And of course, shopping’s social dimension is often missing or diluted online. For many a shopping trip is a bonding process – seeking friends’ opinions on new clothes for example. Even interactions with shop staff can add to the experience though these are being slowly withdrawn. At the next level we have Amazon Fresh. A retail analyst conceded that the experience was ‘cold and soulless’ but also ‘enhances the shopper experience’. How are those two assertions compatible?
Online qualitative research
Covid-19 restrictions have also seen qualitative research move online. There’s no doubting that even before the pandemic online research enabled us to access and gather hard-to-reach audiences without having to travel.
These benefits of online research have kept research going in lockdowns when other sectors haven’t been so fortunate.
What’s surprising is some researchers’ enthusiasm to continue with online qualitative work when life returns to something like normal.
But many would argue that online qualitative research is a compromised version of the real thing, only to be used when necessary. An online focus group is a pale simulacrum of one conducted in-person; it becomes a series of round-screen questions assailed by barking dogs, lapses in attention, technological issues etc.
Furthermore, some studies are simply impossible online; even at best we’re still missing a group’s ‘performance’ dimension, the forming, norming and storming and crucially, performing stages that we all learned about. The little sly asides participants make to each other which we notice and explore further? Gone online. Body language cues? Gone. The physical tasks that help the group to bond? Gone.
Why should any qual researcher want to continue with online work any longer than necessary? We’ve even lost the travel opportunities that were such a perk of the job.
Summing up
Enhancements promised by advocates of these developments centre around ideas like convenience, efficiency, safety and predictability. These qualities have their place but create experiences stripped of excitement, humanity and soul. This if life lite, a decaf existence. As for research, it’s about people. Our industry is about spending time with REAL people. So, at the earliest opportunity, let’s pack our Zoom accounts away and get back out there.
