On being seen and seeing

Two disruptions and one path to connection

Over a decade ago, I met Clay Christensen for the first time. He was literally one of the tallest and most famous people I’d ever met (I don’t have any pro athlete friends, so a 6’8” management guru was it).

But stature aside, what stood out most about Clay was the way he greeted people–even me, a refugee of law school still figuring out what I was trying to do with my life. He would start every meeting we had with a simple “How are you?” in a tone and at a speed that defied modern norms. More than once, I cried in his office when he asked me that. Not because my life was falling apart (not really, anyway), but because it’s so rare to have someone genuinely check in with you, not out of obligatory politeness, but in a wholehearted effort to see you for who you truly are.

If Clay’s first gift to me was seeing me, his second gift was helping me see the world differently. Clay often talked about Disruptive Innovation Theory as a pair of glasses through which to observe how the market was evolving. By understanding common markers and patterns of disruption–how it starts at the bottom of the market, goes ignored by the mainstream, and quickly scales, enabled by technology–you can spot it in the wild, even when you least expect it.

Once you can see the world through this lens, you can’t unsee disruptions unfolding around you. That’s why watching AI start to encroach on human connections is so clear and unnerving for me.

Christensen's theory has explained and shaped enormous growth markets across Silicon Valley and around the globe. The same theory that influenced luminaries like Steve Jobs, Reed Hastings, and Andy Grove is now telling us something stark and undeniable: our human relationships are profoundly susceptible to being disrupted by Gen AI.

What’s even more unnerving is that over the past year, I’ve realized that there are actually two distinct ways AI is disrupting our networks: from the inside out and the outside in.

The first is a classic disruption story of AI companions disrupting human ones by starting with users who don’t have access to the relationships they want, intimate and otherwise. Today’s epidemic rates of loneliness offer perfect conditions for companion bots to take hold. But while loneliness is the beginning of this market, it’s not the end. Bots are becoming more and more emotionally attuned, multi-modal, and sophisticated in ways that will help them fit into our mainstream–and already highly digitized–social circles. Here’s how:

The second disruption I’m seeing is a bit less obvious, but I suspect far more widespread. AI productivity tools make it easier than ever to solve problems on our own. But by offering us convenient, on-demand help, AI could quietly disrupt our weak-tie networks. Those weak ties–our mere acquaintances and distant friends–pale in comparison to 24/7, speedy, and sycophantic bots. In the long run, however, shrinking our weak-tie networks could in fact prove quite costly. Here’s why:

The fact that both of these forces are at work at once is pretty alarming— and means few of us are immune to the impacts AI will have on our social lives.

The good news is that we can see these twin disruptions unfolding and predict with some certainty where they are headed (if left unchecked). That means we can also work to fend off disruption, and outcompete bots, if we want to.

But outcompeting AI will require summoning a more intimate presence that’s started to fade in the digital age.

The antidote to a future where bots disrupt human connections is not about halting technological progress; it’s about doubling down on our collective commitment to seeing, and being seen, by one another. Put differently, we don’t need to stop using AI, but we do need to invest in human relationships, especially face-to-face interactions, at much higher and more consistent rates.

So I find myself ending up where I began. We need to start practicing the first thing Clay taught me. Not the power of disruptive innovation, but the power of showing up. The power of looking out for those around us, strong and weak ties alike. The power of committing to asking each other how we are—and caring deeply about the answer.