Much of the storytelling about the future and humans and machines runs with a theme that machines will not replace us, but that we will work with machines to create a combination greater than either alone. If you have heard the freestyle chess example, which now seems to be everywhere, you will understand the idea. (See my article in Behavioral Scientist if you haven’t.)
An interesting angle to this relationship is just how unsuited some of our existing human-machine combinations are for the unique skills of a human brings. As Don Norman writes in his excellent The Design of Everyday Things:
People are flexible, versatile, and creative. Machines are rigid, precise, and relatively fixed in their operations. There is a mismatch between the two, one that can lead to enhanced capability if used properly. Think of an electronic calculator. It doesn’t do mathematics like a person, but can solve problems people can’t. Moreover, calculators do not make errors. So the human plus calculator is a perfect collaboration: we humans figure out what the important problems are and how to state them. Then we use calculators to compute the solutions.
Difficulties arise when we do not think of people and machines as collaborative systems, but assign whatever tasks can be automated to the machines and leave the rest to people. This ends up requiring people to behave in machine like fashion, in ways that differ from human capabilities. We expect people to monitor machines, which means keeping alert for long periods, something we are bad at. We require people to do repeated operations with the extreme precision and accuracy required by machines, again something we are not good at. When we divide up the machine and human components of a task in this way, we fail to take advantage of human strengths and capabilities but instead rely upon areas where we are genetically, biologically unsuited.
The result is that at the moments when we expect the humans to act, we have set them up for failure:
We design equipment that requires people to be fully alert and attentive for hours, or to remember archaic, confusing procedures even if they are only used infrequently, sometimes only once in a lifetime. We put people in boring environments with nothing to do for hours on end, until suddenly they must respond quickly and accurately. Or we subject them to complex, high-workload environments, where they are continually interrupted while having to do multiple tasks simultaneously. Then we wonder why there is failure.
Automation keeps getting more and more capable. Automatic systems can take over tasks that used to be done by people, whether it is maintaining the proper temperature, automatically keeping an automobile within its assigned lane at the correct distance from the car in front, enabling airplanes to fly by themselves from takeoff to landing, or allowing ships to navigate by themselves. When the automation works, the tasks are usually done as well as or better than by people. Moreover, it saves people from the dull, dreary routine tasks, allowing more useful, productive use of time, reducing fatigue and error. But when the task gets too complex, automation tends to give up. This, of course, is precisely when it is needed the most. The paradox is that automation can take over the dull, dreary tasks, but fail with the complex ones.
When automation fails, it often does so without warning. … When the failure occurs, the human is “out of the loop.” This means that the person has not been paying much attention to the operation, and it takes time for the failure to be noticed and evaluated, and then to decide how to respond.
There is an increasing catalogue of these types of failures. Air France flight 447, which crashed into the Atlantic in 2009, is a classic case. The autopilot suddenly handed to the pilots an otherwise well-functioning plane due to an airspeed indicator problem, leading to disaster. But perhaps this new type of failure is an acceptable result of the overall improvement in system safety or performance.
This human-machine mismatch is also a theme in Charles Perrow’s Normal Accidents. Perrow notes that many systems are poorly suited to human psychology, with long periods of inactivity interspersed by bunched workload. The humans are often pulled into the loop just at the moments things are starting to go wrong. The question is not how much work humans can safely do, but how little.