In a development that has stunned nobody except the BMA and a handful of Luddite surgeons who still think leeches have a place in modern medicine, the NHS has announced its fleet of robotic surgeons has successfully completed its first 1,000 operations. That’s right, 1,000 procedures performed by machines that don’t complain about parking, demand overtime, or ask for a second opinion on the golf course.
This is, of course, a triumph. The robots, gleaming chrome monsters with names like “Scalpel-3000” and “Da Vinci 2.0,” have been slicing and dicing their way through waiting lists with the enthusiasm of a toddler with a toy hammer. And why not? They don’t get tired, they don’t get hangry, and they certainly don’t pause mid-incision to check their Twitter feed. The only thing they might lack is the warm bedside manner of a human doctor, but let’s be honest: when was the last time your GP offered you a hug?
But let’s not get carried away with the ticker tape parade just yet. The real question is: what happens when a robot makes a mistake? The NHS is already notorious for its labyrinthine complaints system. Imagine trying to sue a machine. “Your Honour, the defendant, an automated Da Vinci unit, failed to comply with its duty of care by accidentally suturing my spleen to my liver.” The robot would likely respond with a series of beeps and a request for a software update.
The government, of course, is ecstatic. Matt Hancock’s ghost (or whatever passes for a health secretary these days) has reportedly said this proves the NHS is at the cutting edge of technology, which is a bit like saying a 1974 Austin Allegro is at the cutting edge of motoring. Meanwhile, the unions are oddly quiet, perhaps because even they realise it’s hard to argue for the protection of jobs that involve sticking a camera up someone’s bottom when a robot can do it with 0.05mm precision.
But here’s the rub. The robots are only as good as their programmers, and if recent history has taught us anything, it’s that you can’t trust a programme put together by the lowest bidder. Remember the NHS’s disastrous IT system? The one that cost £10 billion and still can’t tell you if your local pharmacy has ibuprofen in stock? This time, instead of a glitchy computer system, we’re talking about a glitchy computer system holding a scalpel.
Still, the early results are impressive. Death rates have dropped, recovery times have shortened, and the only thing patients seem to complain about is the lack of a friendly face to hold their hand. To which the NHS inevitably replies: “We have a comfort robot for that. It’s called the HugBot 2000, and it dispenses valium.”
In the end, this is Britain at its finest: a nation that can’t get a train to run on time but can build a robot that does a hip replacement while whistling the theme tune from ‘The Jeremy Kyle Show’. So raise a glass of cheap gin to our new mechanical overlords. Long may they operate, preferably without developing a taste for human flesh.
