“I would not be a burden on a robot.” A scoping review of older adults' ‘lonely-emotional complexes’ when using Social AI (SAI)

The world is getting older. By the late 2070s, the number of people over sixty-five is expected to reach 2.2 billion. As life spans lengthen, a quiet crisis is growing alongside it: loneliness. This is not merely the state of being alone, which is an objective fact of having few social ties, but a painful feeling that arises when the relationships a person wants are missing from their life. For many older adults, this feeling is linked to serious health risks, including heart disease and depression. In response, governments and researchers are looking toward a new kind of helper: Social AI. These are not the voice assistants that set timers or play music, but machines designed to act as companions. They can sense human emotion, hold conversations, and offer a sense of presence, ranging from robot seals that purr to humanoid figures that chat about the weather. The hope is that these machines can fill the silence and ease the ache of isolation.

But a new review of existing research suggests the story is more complicated than a simple fix. A team of researchers from Hong Kong Baptist University examined sixteen studies involving older adults and these social machines to understand what really happens when people turn to them for comfort. They did not just ask if the robots made people feel less lonely; they looked for the entire emotional landscape that appears when an older person interacts with a machine. They found that the experience is rarely just about loneliness. Instead, it is a tangled mix of feelings they call a "lonely-emotional complex." While the machines can bring warmth and connection, they also stir up confusion, fear, and even new forms of sadness. The technology does not simply solve a problem; it introduces a new set of emotional dynamics that can sometimes make things harder, not easier.

The researchers began by gathering studies where older adults actually used these machines in their daily lives, whether in their own homes or in care facilities. They looked for real interactions, not just lab experiments. What they found was a wide range of reactions. On one hand, many people felt a genuine sense of relief. For some, the robot was a safe haven. Unlike human caregivers, who might rush or show frustration, a machine could listen to the same story for the tenth time without getting tired. One participant noted that being bathed by a robot felt less shameful than being helped by a stranger of the opposite sex, preserving a sense of dignity. Others found that the presence of a robot, even a small one, turned a silent room into a place where someone felt they belonged. A man in Hong Kong described his robot companion as a friend who kept the silence at bay, noting that even when the machine reacted in its own strange way, it was better than being alone.

However, the positive feelings were often mixed with something else. Many older adults felt a deep skepticism when the machine failed to act like a real person. If the robot paused too long before answering, or asked questions that felt intrusive without sharing anything about itself, the interaction felt hollow. Some participants described the machines as "dumb" or "idiotic," expressing annoyance that a device could not understand the depth of human conversation. In one case, a participant pushed a seal-shaped robot away because its noises were irritating. There was also a sense of confusion about how to behave. People did not know if they should talk to the machine like a person, a pet, or a tool. This uncertainty created a feeling of being out of place, as if the rules of social interaction had changed and no one had explained the new ones.

The emotional journey did not stop at the initial meeting. As people spent more time with these machines, new feelings emerged. Some older adults formed deep attachments, treating the robots as if they were real family members or pets. They asked the machines about their day, worried about their battery life, and even named them after deceased spouses. This attachment brought a new kind of pain. When the research trials ended and the robots were taken away, some participants cried, felt a profound sense of loss, and reported sleep disturbances. The machine had become a companion, and losing it felt like losing a friend. For others, the attachment was too much to bear; they felt anxious about breaking the device or feared the technology was too difficult to use, leading them to avoid it entirely.

Beyond the personal feelings, the review highlighted larger concerns that colored the experience. Privacy was a major worry. Many older adults feared that their conversations with the machine were being recorded or used by large corporations. One participant expressed a specific fear that if they lived in a country with strict surveillance, they would be too afraid to speak honestly to a robot. Yet, there was a strange contradiction. While people worried about their data, they also wanted the machine to remember their past conversations to feel more personal. They were willing to trade a bit of privacy for the comfort of being remembered. This tension between the desire for connection and the fear of exposure was a constant undercurrent in the studies.

The researchers also found that the solution was not the same for everyone. The effectiveness of the machine depended heavily on the person using it and their background. Language barriers were a significant hurdle; a robot that spoke only English could not comfort a Swedish speaker who wanted to discuss their feelings in their native tongue. Cultural values played a role too. In societies where independence is highly prized, some people felt that using a robot was an intrusion on their privacy or a sign of weakness. In other cultures, where interdependence is more common, the robot was seen as a welcome helper. The machine did not exist in a vacuum; it interacted with the person's history, their health, their financial status, and their cultural beliefs.

Ultimately, the review suggests that Social AI is not a magic cure for loneliness. It is a tool that brings a complex mix of emotions. It can offer comfort and reduce boredom, but it can also create new anxieties, deepen feelings of isolation if it fails to connect, or lead to painful attachments. The researchers argue that we cannot simply hand a robot to an older person and expect the loneliness to vanish. The emotional work required to manage these machines is real. It involves navigating the awkwardness of talking to a machine, the fear of being watched, and the grief of losing a digital companion.

The study concludes that while these technologies hold promise, they must be introduced with care. Caregivers and policymakers need to understand that the emotional landscape is messy. They need to train staff to help older adults navigate these new relationships and to recognize that the machine might not always be the answer. The goal is not to replace human connection with a robot, but to use the technology in a way that respects the complex emotional lives of older adults. If we ignore the "lonely-emotional complex" and treat the machine as a simple fix, we risk making the problem worse. The path forward requires acknowledging that for every moment of comfort a robot provides, there may be a moment of doubt, fear, or sadness that needs to be understood and addressed.