Embracing magic again

I wrote recently about the challenge the modern leader faces in terms of having to grapple with the unknown. I was reflecting on this after having spoken on a couple of podcasts - this one in particular - where we talked about this topic in relation to the rise of AI in coaching.

I remember where I was when the first iPhone was announced in 2007. I remember hearing the crowd gasp in awe as Steve Jobs demonstrated the things we all now take for granted. I think it's accurate to say that at the time the iPhone felt like it was magical. It was unlike anything we'd seen before, as if it had been delivered from an unknown future, and of course it changed the way we all interacted with technology and the world.

The meaning of magic

I love magic. I recently had the joy of taking my son to see The Play That Goes Wrong, and at one point one of the characters appears inside a box that a moment before had been empty. The pleasure I get from the surprise, and the fact I still have no idea how it was done, is fantastic.

But I know it's not really magic, in its truest sense. It's an illusion.

I'll go a step further.

Because I'm a twenty-first century westerner, I know that all magic is an illusion. Everything can be explained in rational ways, if we just concentrate hard enough on it.

In ancient times, the meaning of magic was somewhat different. In different cultures it was accessed following different paths, and sometimes with different names, but there was global consistency. The inexplicable could be placed neatly into the category of magic, whether that was through Merlin the magician, a pantheon of gods, the activity of meddling spirits, a universal supernatural consciousness, or something else.

Where a thousand years ago a new piece of technology may be seen by some as a literal work of the literal devil, we don't give ourselves permission to think that, however much of a Luddite we might feel. And that doesn't stop us feeling that sense of awe when we first encounter it.

All technology is magical...at first

As true as that might be, we'd all find a first generation iPhone underwhelming now. Relative to what most people reading this carry around with them day-to-day, it was extremely slow, physically heavy, and incapable of any modern app. It didn't even have a camera, for goodness' sake.

The new technology in question might be a new smartphone, a virtual reality headset that transports us to another planet, or ChatGPT acting as if it's a human. Our first interaction with it feels very much like it's magic, and over time that sense is lost.

That sits in stark contrast to an interaction with a human. The magic is still there. I'm spending next week with my parents, and I can't wait. This feeling fascinates me. I spent the first 18 years of my life seeing them pretty much every single day. Thousands upon thousands of days in each other's company, and I still look forward to seeing them. Isn't that weird? Rationally speaking, I should definitely be bored by now.

Are we in danger of de-magicking humans?

In the modern, data-driven world, everything must be measurable. We consistently act this way, over-thinking and under-feeling. It feels like every conversation I have about the rise of AI in coaching gravitates towards the same points: AI can't show empathy. AI can't understand nuance. AI can't build a relationship.

It turns out that AI can do all of those things - mostly better than a human can - once we break them down into measurable components. It's all just brainwave activity and hormones, at the end of the day, isn't it? And as augmented reality (AR) improves, the boundary line between interacting with a machine and will a human will become increasingly blurred.

The difference between speaking to a machine and a human through webchat is already difficult to identify, particularly when organisations lean on call scripts and tightly-bound procedures. In a few years' time, if AI and AR stay on the same trajectory, a realistic hologram with which we can have an enjoyable conversation will become a reality.

If and when that does, we'll face a serious question:

In all seriousness, what will the difference be between having a conversation with a human and a machine?

It's an important one to answer, because at a measurable level there will only ultimately be one answer: The machine will win. If you're looking to capture the ROI of coaching (and you probably shouldn't), a well-designed algorithm will always deliver a better result than a human.

I'm wondering if we should stop trying to think so hard about it. What would happen if we just accepted that there is something magical about humans? In our embracing of the rational, enlightened, western worldview, have we lost something about what it means to be a human in the first place?

I know, no organisation is going to sign off a business case with the documented rationale that something's magic. Perhaps the proof of the pudding will be in the eating as we all embrace or resist technology at different paces.

For the moment, I'm happy to sit with it as an unknown. AI coaching is coming, and I'm sure it's going to be really helpful for some people. I've played around with it to know it's not just a gimmick to fill up a couple of minutes in a keynote presentation. But perhaps I'll never reach a point where I fully replace every coaching interaction with technology.

And whatever logic anyone might put around it, I'm going to look forward to the magic of seeing my parents next week.