Artificial Intelligence (AI) has permeated our discussions across academia, research, co-production, and engagement. The resounding consensus? It's not going anywhere. This powerful technology holds immense potential, but as we navigate its integration, a fundamental question arises, particularly within the collaborative spirit of co-production: What uniquely human value do we bring to the table that AI, in all its sophistication, cannot replicate?

My thoughts consistently return to the concept of engagement. A stark example recently highlighted a critical flaw in its absence. I read about a study, conducted by a reputable organisation, focusing on a specific aspect of the military veteran experience. I was genuinely taken aback to learn that they explicitly excluded veterans with hearing loss. Given the significantly higher prevalence of hearing loss within the veteran community (3.5 times the general population), this exclusion seemed utterly illogical. The auditory capacity of participants had no bearing on the phenomenon under investigation. The only plausible explanation pointed to a potential lack of skills or confidence among the researchers in effectively communicating with individuals with hearing differences.

This resonated deeply with my own experiences, both professional and personal. I've worked extensively with individuals who have lost the ability to speak or sign due to brain injuries, or aphasia. Imagine, as I have witnessed countless times, someone with expressive aphasia, a mind full of thoughts and feelings, yet unable to articulate them verbally. Unlocking their 'voice', or perspective, requires time, unwavering patience, and a diverse and adaptable communication toolkit.

Furthermore, as someone who has been on the receiving end of exclusion, the dismissive "I'll tell you later" or the inadequate, rushed summaries at the end of lengthy discussions, I intimately understand the pain of being left out and the profound power of genuine inclusion.

Now, consider this scenario: a research team of ten professionals encounters an individual with expressive aphasia. One dedicated member invests the time and effort, trying numerous different communication strategies until a viable method emerges. The other nine, faced with this initial challenge, deem the case "too difficult" and advocate for the exclusion of all individuals with aphasia from the study.

The question is stark: Who truly holds the problem here? Is it the person with aphasia, for whom a communication pathway was successfully forged by one determined researcher? Or is it the nine who lacked the willingness, the adaptability, or the necessary skills to even attempt that connection? And how is this scenario fundamentally different from excluding individuals with hearing loss simply because adapting communication methods might require more effort?

This brings us to a painful realisation. Often, when we discuss adapting research or services for individuals with disabilities and long-term conditions, the focus tends towards tangible, practical adjustments. We might consider wheelchair access, large-print materials, or alternative formats. These are undoubtedly crucial and often provide a sense of accomplishment – a "feel-good factor," as author Jennifer Harris describes, because they are concrete and achievable.

However, communication demands a different kind of adaptation. It compels us to confront our own limitations, our own skill gaps. It forces us to look inward, and this introspection can be uncomfortable, lacking that immediate sense of easy achievement. It is often, regrettably, easier to exclude.

And yet, this very challenge is where the unique strength of human interaction shines brightest, particularly in contrast to the capabilities of AI. Engagement is not merely about transmitting information; it's about building rapport, understanding nuances, and adapting to individual needs in real-time. It requires patience, empathy, and a commitment to finding common ground, even when communication pathways are complex. Engagement is the bedrock of inclusion, and inclusion is not just a matter of fairness; it is absolutely vital for mental wellbeing. If we exclude individuals in research, especially when that research pertains to mental wellbeing, we introduce an inherent and potentially significant bias right from the outset.

As we continue to integrate the remarkable power of AI into our academic and research endeavours, let us never underestimate the indispensable human element. Our capacity for genuine engagement, our commitment to inclusivity, and our willingness to adapt and connect with every individual, regardless of their communication differences, are not just desirable qualities, they are fundamental to ethical, rigorous, and ultimately, impactful research. AI can be a powerful tool, but it will never replace the heart, the empathy, and the persistent human spirit that drives true understanding and inclusion. 

#coproduction #engagement #deaf #military