What will be left?

A campaign that once took weeks can now be created in an afternoon. A film can be made without a camera, and a voice for a radio commercial without anyone ever speaking. Almost automatically, we call it ‘progress’ when something becomes faster, cheaper or requires fewer people. We talk extensively about the time we save, but far less about what we actually do with that time. As if reducing human effort were, in itself, enough reason to be satisfied. What strikes me most is how directly this is starting to affect the creative industry. We work in a business where people can set something in motion with a creative idea. That is exactly what has always made this industry so fascinating to me. And increasingly, my conversations with fellow entrepreneurs about AI are about what will actually be left for us to do. We keep trying to identify the things humans are still better at, but that line of thinking is beginning to take us in a rather uncomfortable direction. For a long time, we relied on our knowledge and craftsmanship. Then we held on to genuine human creativity. Now I mostly hear that empathy and intuition are what make us indispensable. At this rate, it starts to feel as if we have to keep explaining why human beings are still needed.

The value of a human being

I find that a strange development. Why do we accept so easily that we have to prove ourselves against a machine? Since when does a person’s value depend on staying ahead of software or artificial intelligence? Of course I understand that companies need to remain economically healthy. I experience that pressure myself every day as a CEO. I have to make decisions about returns, investments and people, and I fully understand why working faster and more efficiently can be necessary. That is precisely why I believe I need to keep asking myself this question. If we mainly look at people as a collection of tasks that can be performed more cheaply, our perspective becomes very narrow. Through the work you do, you also discover what you are good at and learn to trust your own judgement. That takes time and experience, and its value is not always explicitly visible in the final output. The power of the process
Let me use my hobby, street photography, as an example. I have been taking photographs since I was sixteen, and I still get enormous pleasure from searching for that one compelling or unique image. Street photography is perfect for that, because I never know beforehand what I am going to encounter or experience. I walk, observe what is happening and gradually discover what I want to capture. Years of doing that have shaped my own way of seeing, and above all, my own style. That is why simply ending up with a beautiful image - created with AI, for example - could never give me the same satisfaction. Going out, staying curious, noticing something and deciding for myself what to do with it: that is exactly what makes photography so valuable to me.

The power of the process.

I recognise the same thing in our creative work. From problem to insight, to strategy, to concept, to creation. Anyone who does creative work knows how much happens along the way. It is also where you develop your own judgement: by trying something, looking back and understanding why it did or did not work. AI can be incredibly useful in that process. It allows you to experiment, explore possibilities and arrive at ideas you might not have found on your own. So I see every reason to use the technology precisely in that search. My concern starts when the time we gain through AI is immediately taken out of the process. The moment something can be done faster, the next question is whether it can also be done cheaper. Understandable, especially in a market where client budgets or growth are under pressure. But we should be very conscious of what happens when every productivity gain leads only to a lower price or fewer people. The financial gain is visible to the client. The bigger question is what that development does to our profession.

Automating the moments where we learn

I think we need to have a much more explicit conversation with our clients about what we can do with the time we gain. Within the same budget, for example, we could create room to explore an idea more deeply or test it before executing it. As agencies, we can also use that time to give younger people experience and proper guidance. That makes both our work and our people better, which ultimately benefits the client too. But we have to be willing to stand behind that investment ourselves. If we translate every efficiency gain immediately into a lower quote, we can hardly expect the client to look at it differently.

This feels particularly urgent when it comes to younger people. We say that human judgement becomes more important in the age of AI, but human judgement is not something you receive with your diploma. You have to build it and earn it over time. You develop it by doing the work, receiving lots of feedback and starting again, over and over. If we automate all those learning moments, we need to think seriously about how someone is supposed to build experience. As leaders, we cannot keep relying on the expertise of experienced people without making sure the next generation gets the opportunity to develop that same expertise.

The power of the different thought

The same applies to originality. With AI, we are increasingly using the same tools and our work is being judged against similar criteria. That makes the power of the different thought more important, not less. Right now, we need people who trust their own judgement enough to keep searching. People willing to stand firmly behind a point of view. But if AI makes us settle earlier for something that looks professionally good enough and ticks all the boxes, we may be making things far too easy for ourselves.

As a CEO, that responsibility sits with me too. I can be excited about what our people create with AI and, at the same time, make sure they continue to develop. I can steer towards a healthy organisation while also deciding how much room we need to preserve if we still want to produce great work a few years from now. That is a difficult balance. It would be unrealistic to pretend that every saving can simply be reinvested, or that every existing role can be preserved. But I find it equally unrealistic to reassure ourselves that human creativity will somehow save us. It almost certainly will not happen by itself.

This is also a conversation we need to have together as an industry. Agencies, clients and educators all depend on people who understand their craft and bring original ideas to the table. That means we also share a responsibility to make sure people can continue to develop. I would
like us to be more open about how we are doing that, and about where we are struggling. Because if everyone focuses mainly on the savings within their own organisation, we risk underinvesting in the talent and craftsmanship we will all depend on again in the future.

An industry powered by imagination
I have now worked in this industry for sixteen years, and what continues to attract me are the people who can see something that does not exist yet and then have the energy to make it real. The creative power of the human mind is, and remains, unique. I continue to believe in that. But I also think we should use more of that imagination to shape the future of our own industry. We should have a clearer idea of the role we want humans to play in a world of AI. 

What gives me confidence is that we still have influence over the future of our profession. We can use AI to bring ideas to life that until now remained out of reach, and give people the opportunity to develop further than we thought possible. That is something I want to contribute to as a CEO, together with our people and our clients. I would be proud if, a few years from now, we could point to the extraordinary work that came out of it - and to how many people grew in the process. That feels like an ambition worthy of an industry powered by imagination. With all these new possibilities, why would we settle for simply producing the same work at a lower cost? And if that is what we call progress, I still want to know: who decided this is progress, anyway?