The Robotics of Modern Parenting
Tags: Robotics, Industrial Design, Baby, Yves Behar, Parenting

In my conversations with Karp and Béhar, both seem genuinely concerned about the plight of modern parents, while being acutely aware of the business opportunity this affords. “When we were testing prototypes on grad students, before they tried it, we asked them how much they were willing to pay for this type of bassinet,” says Karp. “They said, ‘Perhaps $200 or $300.’ When we came back two weeks later, they were willing to give us $5,000 to keep it.” While there is no inherent contradiction here — but instead a keen and perhaps healthy entrepreneurial opportunism — I cannot shake the uneasy feeling that Karp and Béhar have gone somewhere they should not have. They have ventured into the sacred territory of the parent-child relationship to interject a foreign object between beings who are at the very beginning of the long road of trying to understand each other.

My intuitions about the potential developmental risks of Snooing are reinforced when I speak to developmental child psychologist Maureen O’Brien, who is based in New York state and often consults on baby-tech products. “A baby’s first couple of months are essential to their development,” she says. “We used to think that not much learning was going on during this period, but now we know that babies’ brains are in a state of hyper excitement, growing at an exceptional and unique rate in human development — the most meaningful relationships are built in their first year of life, it is how they create the meaning of their world.” O’Brien assures me that she has great respect for Karp and that his work has helped countless parents. “But the Snoo is an object, not a person. This must surely have some effect on the parent-child relationship over the long term.” For her, the big question is: “Are we going to use technology for quick fixes to problems when raising children, or are we going to work with baby to find a solution together, until that relationship is fully developed?”

When I ask Béhar about this, he is keen to draw distinctions: “You can’t just discount all technology wholesale, as all being the same thing.” Béhar tells me that he has been a vocal critic of the socially disruptive potential of some inventions and is adamant that his aim is to create robots to help those who are most in need. “Dr Karp’s techniques are extremely effective, the 5 S’s are very teachable and learnable technique — any parent can be proficient,” he says. “But late at night, your ability to deliver the technique is not optimal. People lose patience, feel defeated, all the way to postpartum depression.” This is where, for Béhar and Karp, robots can help the most. In a culture where people are no longer surrounded by a community to support their efforts, and there is no governmental structure in place to help, robotics can solve some of these specific needs. “Yes, the Snoo is a technological object, but so is the average baby crib that was developed in the Middle Ages. It’s just a smarter and safer baby swing,” argues Karp.

Focusing on the “robotness” of the product, however, would neglect the design effort involved in creating something that does not look or feel like a robot. “We wanted to turn Harvey [Karp]’s technique for calming babies to sleep into a robot for parents in need, but what should that robot look and feel like?” asks Béhar. “Yes, the Snoo is a technological object, but it needs to be integrated into the home and childhood in ways that provide a service but do not communicate its robotic self.” Seen from this perspective, Béhar’s design is extremely successful. People who purchase, rent or are loaned the Snoo most likely do not consider it a robot at all, given that it is designed with fabrics, wood and metal — much like a piece of furniture with extra capabilities. When I reach out to Andrea and Len to see how they are getting along with their boy, who just celebrated his first birthday, they recoil in mock horror at the idea that the Snoo is a robot-helper. “It’s a terrible idea to call it a robot,” says Andrea. “I didn’t see it as a robot at all but as the future of bassinets. As in: this is the way all bassinets are going to be in the future.” Len is more categorical: “No parent wants to call it a robot.”

Andrea and Len explain that parents are alreadyunder a lot of pressure to do everything perfectly and by themselves: pressure to breastfeed and not use formula; cook healthy meals and not resort to canned food; make sure the baby is developing on all levels by buying the right books and toys; ensure that the stroller, car seat and all the other parenting paraphernalia is the best and safest; and much more. According to them, any focus on the “robotic self” of the Snoo would increase parental guilt about delegating essential nurturing responsibilities to an automaton. “It’d be an especially bad idea in this moment when there is a lot of pushback on all of the smart-home, Internet-of-Things trends,” says Andrea. “An idea is really taking hold that we are losing the essential warmth of our house by interjecting these objects between ourselves and our living spaces.”

While companies and policymakers around the world increasingly sing the praises of artificial intelligence and hyperconnectivity, some on the West Coast who have lived this reality for the past 10 years are already wary. But what to make of my friends’ apparent cognitive dissonance? The Snoo is a robot, a connected thing doing some of the work of parenting for you, crunching algorithms instead of relying on human intelligence. It fits into the growing category of hyper-connected monitors, as the quantified baby becomes a reality in many households. Is Béhar’s design so triumphant that it masks a nefarious societal hubris, or is the Snoo so ahead of the curve as to avoid the pitfalls of less elegant connected products?

The answer might lie in how much we accept as truth or bluster what Béhar calls his ’10 Principles for Design in the Age of AI’. The three he mentioned in our conversation were: 1) Design solves an important human problem; 3) Design enhances human ability (without replacing the human); and 7) Good design brings about products and services that build longterm relationships (but don’t create emotional dependency). Looking closely at each one, I can only partially agree in regards to the Snoo. Yes, the Snoo solves an important human problem, but perhaps people consider waking up several times a night to take care of their child a problem because we live in a society that expects parents to be both devoted caregivers and efficient workers. Yes, it enhances human abilities without replacing them, given that the crib does turn off after three minutes, but have we thought enough about what it means to have an object put our baby to sleep for us? And, no, it does not create emotional dependency — because parents are forewarned that the crib is a six-month fix and much effort has gone into educating users on how to wean their baby into a regular bed — but what is the use of removing the emotional attachment to an intermediary object when emotions are the keystone to developing a healthy relationship with a newborn?