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A yen for a hi-tech life
 
By J Mark Lytle
The Guardian , Thursday September 11, 2003


Mrs Tanaka is 84. Today, as usual, she wakes just before 7am, slips on her dressing gown and flips a switch to start water boiling for her first green tea of the day. She's about to get dressed when she pauses. She turns to the low table near the door, where a soft toy sits incongruously, and greets it in her distinctive west-Japan accent.

"Good morning Teddy. How are you today?" "Pretty good, thanks Tanaka-san," comes the reply. "Have you remembered to take your pills? It's the pink ones this morning," the robot bear continues.

A scene from AI 2 or a vision of a slightly over-cooked future nanny state? Actually, it's here and now in Japan, and could be just around the corner for more of us, if Kuni' ichi Ozawa, director of the hi-tech Sincere Korien retirement home in Korien, just outside Osaka, has his way.

Four years ago, Ozawa had a vision of using technology to cope with his country's rapidly greying populace. A senior employee of the electronics giant Matsushita, he was better placed than most to do something about it.

He recalls: "We needed a concept that would differentiate our home from others, so we developed the 'digital nursing home'. Since Matsushita possesses the digital and IT technologies, as well as the know-how, we felt we could provide a comprehensive care service."

He adds: "We expect nursing homes to become a lucrative business."

Those technologies have served the company well in building a reputation that allows retirees and their families to trust Matsushita with the task of caring for Japan's venerated "silver" population.

The company is already well-known for its operating theatre monitoring system, wherein high-definition images of surgery are beamed to students with a detail that should define "reality TV". The system also pioneered the recording of surgical procedures to DVD.

More mundane, but equally important, monitoring goes on in Sincere Korien. This includes the "nursing care support system", which monitors residents throughout the complex, using a variety of bio-sensors checking for changes in heat or mass, for example, when a patient prone to nocturnal strolls leaves their room, as well as the more traditional cameras.

There are also ceiling sensors in the private bathrooms tuned in to the length of time a resident spends there, and linked to a help station, where an assistant is permanently on call. Data is tracked with a view to spotting worrisome trends.

Fears concerning over-protectiveness and patient privacy have not been overlooked by the Matsushita Care Business Company, which runs Sincere Korien. Ozawa explains: "Before moving in, residents and their families are informed of all the special mechanisms and we ask permission from the families for data storage."

Central to the Ozawa doctrine is adding value through technology. Japanese law requires a patient-staff ratio of 3:1. He offers a 3:2 ratio, promising to use technology not to cut staff, but to supplement their skills and to better care for their charges.

Even the most conservative projections show that Japan's population will start to shrink next year, possibly by as much as 1.3 million people. By 2025, there are expected to be 10m fewer Japanese.

A steadily falling birth-rate will reduce the active and working population by 6m, while better healthcare should see the 65-plus sector increase to 30% of the total population by the later date. Social security payments are expected to increase sharply from the present 65 trillion yen (£0.3 trillion).

The need for cost-efficient residential homes is clear. Unlike in most western countries, communal retirement facilities are the exception, rather than the norm.

Junsei Watanabe, the head priest of Kousaiji-Temple in west Tokyo and an authority on the ageing of society, agrees with the need for change: "I live with my wife and her 78-year-old mother, but feel that the care of the elderly should be socialised. The nuclear family is important, but it is not sufficient."

Watanabe also hinted at the prosaic Japanese acceptance of the inevitable, perhaps as a factor in their legendary longevity. "My temple forms part of what I call the Triangle of Death. On one corner, there's us, on another, the crematorium, while the third point is marked by the town's funeral parlour."

A public nursing-care insurance system was recently introduced, which provides subsidies to retirees opting for nursing home care.

Sincere Korien residents benefit from both that tax-funded subsidy and Matsushita's good fortune to own the land on which the complex stands, having converted it from a company dormitory in 2000. Move-in costs are just over half those at typical retirement facilities, while monthly fees are 250,000 yen, or £1,395 - £320 less than elsewhere.

Ozawa's flow turns again to the bigger picture: "Even if we are conservative with our forecast in the number of households that need some kind of care, we estimate that the care business is [worth] about 100 trillion yen.

The technology employed by Matsushita is discreet. It may be a test bed for the company's care technologies, but the maximum of 107 senior citizens (with a long waiting list) living within its walls are anything but guinea pigs.

Take the teddy bear robot. Western eyes may consider the use of stuffed toys to be a touch patronising, but Japan is the land of Hello Kitty and all things kitsch. Of those who welcomed it in their rooms, we could not find one resident - average age 82 - who had the slightest problem with the idea of talking to a toy.

The celebrated cartoon mechanoid, Astro Boy (Tetsuwan Atomu in his native Japanese), is an oft-cited example of how the Japanese like their robots cute. Robodex 2003, held in Tokyo, was an endless parade of innovative robotics, but 99% of the consumer devices on show wouldn't look out of place alongside Aibo, Sony's famous robot, in a child's playroom.

The main exceptions were the robots intended for more than mere entertainment or companionship. These included machines that defuse minefields, droids for the disabled and robots to aid care-givers.

Most notable in the latter category was the Power Assist Suit, from the Kanagawa Institute of Technology. It is an 18kg, $20,000 exoskeleton to be worn by carers lacking the strength to lift bedridden patients. The institute expects to make it lighter and far cheaper before commercialisation.

Professor Keijiro Yamamoto, the lead developer of the suit, explained: "We had two motives in developing it: one was from an educational viewpoint, and the other societal changes. As society ages, we are going to run short of young carers. Our power suit reduces the physical burdens imposed in caring for the elderly."

He sums up: "Our purpose is to solve social problems. In the future, living with robots will be a reality in Japan."

Sincere Korien's robot bears aren't as spectacular as the Power Assist Suit, but they also act as proxy pets. Their core function is to record patients' response times during simple conversations powered by voice-recognition software and to relay anything unusual to staff via the company Lan. Although Teddy is networked via physical cables, the potential to take things wireless is obvious.

A host of data on the residents is stored centrally, with some available via the internet to specialists and concerned families.

One benefit of the Matsushita technology can be seen in routine physical examinations, such as reading blood pressure. Typically, residents have this done quickly in their rooms, with the data transmitted for analysis elsewhere. Patients no longer have to "wait three hours in the hospital for a three-minute consultation", says Ozawa. "I want to use the technology to change from a 'move people' concept to a 'move data' concept."

As we left Sincere Korien, needing reminding of the fact that its residents are people, too, and not just part of an experiment on the cusp of a brave new world of automated health care, one look at the notice boards in the communal areas confirmed there is plenty of time to get away from the bits and bytes that are the centre's nuts and bolts.

The timetable for September revealed a schedule loaded with activities as diverse as music therapy, flower arrangement and traditional calligraphy classes. Written large in the striking katakana script reserved for loan words, and as if to prove this really is Osaka and not Metropolis, the ubiquitous Japanese pastime of karaoke gets a regular look-in, too.


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