By Diane Sigmund
Firmly established in the age bracket that qualifies as “elder,” I have come to experience the digital demons that have been released without mercy on gray-haired consumers—yet another form of elder abuse.
While intended to facilitate communication, digital tools can do just the opposite, impeding it by imposing technical barriers. Before even addressing the task at hand, we must first get through that frustrating electronic door called the “password.”
Meant to safeguard both important and not-so-important sites, passwords now stand between us and some of the most basic consumer transactions. Something as essential as securing health insurance may be nearly impossible to accomplish by telephone. If you need to do business, you must instead navigate your personally designated links, safely stored—under a password, of course—on the computer.
First, a username and password must be established: 16 characters recommended, with a mix of uppercase and lowercase letters, numbers, and symbols. AND REMEMBERED. Second, personal information and common phrases that might actually be remembered are to be avoided. Since this task is often unachievable, especially for elders with spotty memories, users commonly resort to recording these “sensitive” clues on sheets of easily misplaced paper intended to provide quick access. Hah!
Seemingly, the one surefire way to avoid this annoying problem would be to restrict one’s communication to the telephone. Yet the messengers have blocked that workaround, too. One recorded voice informs callers that all doctor appointments and other requests must be made by text message: “This number is not serviced by a live person.” Another medical practice responds to telephone calls with directions to communicate by text if a timely response is sought. A senior acquaintance lacking texting skills was required to drive to her doctor’s office for the sole purpose of making an appointment.
However, if you are not among those seniors who have mastered these “basic” computer skills, you need not be jealous. Their knowledge is time-limited, as programs are constantly being “updated and improved,” so that competency today becomes confusion tomorrow!
Faster, safer, cheaper—technology can be all of those things. Yet its relentless imposition offers little consideration for the decreasing but still substantial number of elders who are not facile with the skills required to manage these changes. They must rely on children, grandchildren—if they are lucky enough to have either—or other third parties to navigate systems that have become essential simply to participate in modern life. The burden falls not only on elders but also on the people who support them.
And even when we do succeed in managing our passwords, portals, texts, and devices, we must maintain constant vigilance against another digital threat: the growing online marketplace for scams targeting older people.
Recently, while surfing the internet, I was attracted to a video discussing a promising therapy for cognitive deficiencies among the elderly. It appeared to feature Dr. Sanjay Gupta, CNN’s medical correspondent, a respected surgeon and author on the subject. I bit. Only after making a purchase did I learn that the whole thing was a scam. The promoter was not Dr. Gupta at all, but an AI-generated imposter, and my credit card information had been compromised.
Technology has now reached the point where even the old advice to “be careful what you believe on the internet” is no longer enough. We may see and hear a familiar, trusted person apparently speaking directly to us—and still be deceived.
As I was writing this, my daughter shared an article with me describing the struggles older adults and their families face with upgraded security measures such as two-factor authentication and facial recognition. The irony is difficult to miss: measures designed to protect us can themselves become barriers, requiring family members and other caregivers to serve as perpetual technology support just so an older person can gain access to her own accounts and services.
As a retired attorney and judge—and now an elder myself—I find the injustice and barriers that today’s technology imposes on older adults and the people who support them frustrating and, at times, maddening. Aging already brings losses of independence that are difficult enough to accept. We should not have to surrender additional independence simply because the tools that were supposed to make life easier have been designed without us in mind.
I started writing about this topic simply to give voice to my own frustrations. But the more people I share them with, the more I realize I am far from alone.
I hope this message is shared more broadly so younger people can understand what we are dealing with—not to reject technology or its benefits, but to recognize the people being left behind by it. And I hope the technology-facile majority will hear my cry in the digital dark and use some of those considerable skills to make these systems more accessible, preserve our independence, protect us from exploitation, and perhaps even improve our quality of life.
After all, you’re next.
Diane Sigmund is a retired federal judge having practiced law and then presided as Chief Judge of the United States Bankruptcy Court for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania, all without the support and assistance of A-I.