the sealed, autonomous womb on wheels for a world that forgot how to share
En las ciudades donde los robotaxis ya circulan con normalidad, la tecnología ofrece seguridad, eficiencia y silencio. Pero lo que revela no es tanto un triunfo de la ingeniería como un síntoma de algo más antiguo y difícil de nombrar: la creciente incapacidad de las sociedades contemporáneas para habitar el espacio compartido con desconocidos. El vehículo sin conductor no ha resuelto el problema del transporte urbano; ha encontrado una forma elegante de esquivar el problema más profundo de la convivencia.
- Mujeres y usuarios de minorías eligen el robotaxi no por comodidad, sino para evitar el miedo real o percibido que genera compartir espacio con un conductor desconocido.
- Lo que se vende como progreso tecnológico encubre una retirada social: la relación entre extraños se ha deteriorado tanto que eliminarlos del trayecto se siente como alivio.
- La industria avanza con argumentos sólidos —menos accidentes, más tiempo libre, costes decrecientes— pero esos datos no responden a la pregunta de qué se pierde cuando el espacio público se vuelve prescindible.
- Las ciudades que normalizan el transporte sin conductor corren el riesgo de consagrar el aislamiento como infraestructura, convirtiendo la desconexión social en una opción de diseño urbano.
Viajar en un robotaxi tiene algo de palaquín del siglo XXI: el coche navega la ciudad con precisión quirúrgica, sin impaciencia, sin errores. Puedes elegir la música, regular la temperatura, ver una película. Los datos de seguridad son contundentes, y a medida que los costes bajen, el taxista humano desaparecerá como antes lo hizo el ascensorista. Pocos llorarán esa pérdida.
Pero el filósofo Peter Sloterdijk describió el automóvil como un útero sobre ruedas: una esfera sellada, climatizada, que reproduce en movimiento el calor del primer espacio que habitamos. El robotaxi lleva esa metáfora hasta su conclusión lógica. Sin conductor, ya no compartes ese líquido amniótico con nadie.
Lo que inquieta no es la tecnología en sí, sino lo que la impulsa. En San Francisco y Los Ángeles, muchas mujeres prefieren el vehículo autónomo porque elimina el contacto con un desconocido que podría representar una amenaza. La misma preferencia aparece entre usuarios de ciertas minorías frente a conductores de otros orígenes. La adopción no la mueve solo la comodidad, sino algo menos generoso: la relación entre extraños se ha degradado tanto que suprimirlos del trayecto se percibe como un avance.
El robotaxi es el vehículo perfecto para cruzar un espacio compartido que ya no sabemos —o ya no queremos— habitar juntos. No ha resuelto el transporte urbano. Ha encontrado la manera de renunciar, con toda la suavidad del mundo, a algo más antiguo y más difícil: la negociación cotidiana de la vida pública con personas que no conocemos.
I rode in a robotaxi during a recent trip to the United States, in one of those cities where they now operate on regular streets. It was not luxurious—the price barely undercuts what you'd pay a human driver—yet there was something almost regal about it, like traveling in a sedan-sized palanquin. The car navigated the urban grid with absolute smoothness, never forgetting a turn signal, never cutting a corner. You can choose your own music, adjust the temperature, watch a film. Soon enough, when Claude or ChatGPT integrate into the system, you'll have Leibniz as your chauffeur. The safety question is settled. In cities, the autonomous vehicle doesn't tire, doesn't lose patience, doesn't run a stop sign. The statistics are clear: it saves lives. It frees time. As costs fall, it will save money too. By that logic, the taxi driver will vanish the way the elevator operator did—and few people mourn that loss.
But then you remember something the philosopher Peter Sloterdijk wrote about the automobile: it is a womb on wheels. A portable sphere, climate-controlled, sealed against the world's chaos, reproducing in motion the warmth of the first space we inhabited. The robotaxi seems to complete that metaphor. Remove the driver, and you no longer share that amniotic fluid with anyone else, even though we all feed from the same digital placenta.
What troubled me was learning that in San Francisco and Los Angeles, many women actively prefer the autonomous vehicle precisely because it eliminates contact with a stranger who might be, or simply appear to be, a threat. The same preference appears among users with Jewish names when the driver looks Arab. For as long as technology has existed, societies have justified new tools by claiming they make life easier. But with robotaxis, something else is happening. The adoption is being driven by a less generous impulse: the relationship between strangers has deteriorated so far that removing them from the equation feels like relief. Like progress.
The sealed, autonomous, perfectly smooth womb on wheels is the ideal vehicle for crossing shared space that we no longer know how to inhabit together, or no longer want to. That is what the robotaxi reveals. Not that we have solved the problem of urban transportation. But that we have given up on something older and harder: the daily negotiation of public life with people we do not know.
Citações Notáveis
The relationship between strangers has deteriorated to the point that eliminating them feels like relief, like progress.— The columnist's observation
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
You rode in one of these things. What was it actually like, moment to moment?
Smooth. Almost eerily so. No jerking, no hesitation. You could read or watch something without that low-level anxiety you have with a human driver. The car just... worked.
And that felt good?
It did. But then I realized why. It wasn't just convenience. It was the absence of another person. No small talk, no judgment, no risk.
Risk of what?
Of being seen as vulnerable. Of being trapped with someone whose mood or intentions you can't predict. For women especially, that's not a small thing.
So the technology isn't really about transportation?
Not entirely. It's about not having to trust a stranger. And that's what bothered me—that we've reached a point where that feels like progress instead of a loss.
A loss of what?
The ability to share space with people we don't know. The muscle we use to do that is atrophying. The robotaxi doesn't fix that. It just lets us stop trying.