Tag: expertise

Categories
AI

The Shape of the Question

Marc Andreessen made two claims recently that don’t quite fit together, and I haven’t been able to stop pulling at the seam.

The first: for almost any topic, the top AI systems now give him better answers than the world-class experts he could call on the phone. And he can call basically anyone. This isn’t a casual observation from someone without access — it’s a meaningful data point about what AI is actually doing to the value of expertise.

The second: the only real skill left in using AI is knowing what to ask. The models can already do almost anything you can describe in plain English. The bottleneck lives in your own head.

Hold those two claims next to each other. If the AI beats the experts, then the quality of your question only has to clear a low bar — good enough to unlock what the system already knows. You don’t need to ask like a cardiologist to get a cardiologist-quality answer. You just need to ask.

Except that’s not how it works in practice. And the gap between the two claims is where something important lives.

The better the question, the better the answer — even from a system that already knows more than any human alive. Expert-level interrogation of a superhuman system produces something qualitatively different from naive interrogation of the same system. The gap between a good question and a bad one doesn’t shrink because the underlying capability grows. It may widen. A sharper instrument in an unskilled hand doesn’t close the distance — it just makes the skilled hand more lethal.

What the AI has done is commoditize answers. What it has not done — cannot do — is commoditize the ability to know which question to ask.

There is a concept from epistemology that keeps surfacing here: the unknown unknown. Donald Rumsfeld made the phrase famous and then spent years living down the mockery, which was unfair, because the underlying idea is genuinely important. There are things you know you don’t know — the gaps you can name, the questions you can form. And there are things you don’t know you don’t know — the territory you can’t even see the edge of. The naive user of AI operates almost entirely in the second category. They ask what they already suspect. They get answers that confirm the shape of what they already believe. The system is brilliant and they are using it as a mirror.

The sophisticated user has learned to ask the AI to challenge their assumptions. To find the holes. To steelman the opposing view. To identify what’s missing from the framing. That second posture requires a kind of intellectual self-awareness — an ability to stand outside your own thinking and interrogate it — that is neither common nor easily taught.

Here is the uncomfortable implication: that self-awareness is not randomly distributed. It correlates with education, with reading, with having thought carefully about hard things for a long time. The people best positioned to ask good questions are, largely, the people who already had access to good answers through the old system. The gate moved. It didn’t disappear.

There’s a democratic story told about AI and I believe parts of it. The kid in rural South Dakota with a good question now gets an answer that rivals what the partner at McKinsey gets.

But access to information was never really the binding constraint. The binding constraint was always the ability to know what information you need — to feel the shape of your own ignorance precisely enough to ask for what fills it. That skill wasn’t distributed by the old system and it won’t be distributed by the new one. It has to be built, slowly, through years of reading and thinking and being wrong and trying again.

What AI may actually be doing is widening the gap between people who ask well and people who don’t — making the former dramatically more capable while leaving the latter approximately where they were, just with a faster way to get answers to questions they already knew to ask.

Somewhere right now, someone is sitting with the most capable thinking tool in human history, asking it to write a cover letter. The tool will do it beautifully. And the gap will quietly widen.

Categories
AI Business Consulting

The Toll Bridge and the Terrain

For fifteen years of my life, I lived inside the fortress of information asymmetry. I was part of a payments consulting business, and our model was exactly what Andrew Feldman described on a recent Moonshots episode when he pointed a sharp finger at traditional professional services.

His observation was simple, cutting, and entirely true:

“Their role today is to stand between ordinary people and obscure knowledge. And the application of that obscure knowledge to everyday problems.”

When I heard him say that, it landed with a quiet thud of recognition.

For a decade and a half, my colleagues and I were the ones standing in that gap. The payments industry—with its labyrinth of interchange fees, compliance structures, clearing networks, and legacy tech stacks—is a monument to obscure knowledge. Clients didn’t come to us because we possessed some divine, unreplicable wisdom. They came to us because the map was locked in our heads, and navigating the terrain without us was a recipe for an expensive disaster.

We charged for our time, and we earned it. We untangled complexity and solved real, everyday business problems for people who just wanted to move money safely from point A to point B.

But looking back now, I can see the architectural flaw disguised as a premium service. The economic foundation of that entire era relied on friction. It relied on the fact that it took an immense amount of human energy to retrieve a piece of obscure data and map it onto a specific business dilemma. You weren’t just paying for strategic guidance; you were paying a premium on artificial scarcity.

We are living through a moment where the marginal cost of intelligence is rapidly trending toward zero. When the barrier of “obscure knowledge” evaporates, the traditional toll bridges begin to look absurd.

For anyone starting a consulting business today, the playbook would have to be entirely different. When an LLM can parse thousands of pages of network operating rules, interchange tables, and regulatory compliance frameworks in a handful of seconds, the gatekeeper’s standing ground liquefies.

If your value proposition is merely standing between a client and a hidden database, your business model isn’t just flawed—it’s obsolete.

Yet, this collapses into a fascinating paradox. You might assume that when you democratize expertise, you eliminate the need for the expert. But as Dan Shipper recently observed, the reality of AI is completely counterintuitive.

Shipper points out that AI effectively packages up “yesterday’s competence” and makes it cheap and ubiquitous.

Suddenly, anyone can generate a complex contract, a software pull request, or a payments flow strategy with the click of a button. But when cheap competence skyrockets, adoption explodes, resulting in an unprecedented glut of generic output—what the internet has collectively taken to calling “slop”. It’s the default, lazy answer that lacks soul, context, and nuance.

When everything begins to look and smell the same, a strange thing happens: the market’s demand for genuine difference sky-rockets.

The shift we are facing across all professional services—whether legal, financial, or consulting—isn’t about eliminating the expert. It is about changing the expert’s job from data-retriever to orchestrator and judge. The floor has been raised. Yesterday’s ceiling is today’s baseline.

What remains is the ability to read a room. To watch a client’s shoulders tighten when you present an option that’s technically correct but organizationally impossible. To notice the glance exchanged across the table before anyone speaks. No LLM parses that. The map is universal now; the guide still has to be in the room.

We don’t need fewer guides; we need fewer toll booths. The future of consulting doesn’t belong to those who hoard the map. It belongs to those who use a universally available map to help people actually walk the terrain.

Categories
Consulting

The Worst Guides

The tyranny of experts!…

Categories
Creativity Living

In Praise of Ignorance: A Catalyst for Creativity

For many years, my career was based on being an “expert” – a go-to consultant who knew his subject area in great detail, who studied and later taught its history, and who specialized in being an expert specialist. Along the way, I became sensitive to the notion “tyranny of the expert” advocated by some who preferred to avoid involving specialist experts like me in projects that I felt would clearly benefit from my skills and expertise.

This morning, one of my Readwise highlights came from Rick Rubin’s recent book. Reading that highlight brought back to mind that notion of the “tyranny of the expert” – and result in me asking Claude 3 for some help composing a musing on this notion more broadly defined as “beginner’s mind”. Here’s the musing – lightly edited by me. Q. Where are you applying your ignorance today?

Rick Rubin invites us to challenge our preconceptions and consider the liberating potential of a beginner’s mind. In a world that often prizes expertise and specialized knowledge, the idea of embracing ignorance as a pathway to progress might seem counterintuitive.

At the core of Rubin’s statement lies the notion that knowledge, while invaluable, can sometimes become a barrier to innovation and growth. When we approach a task or challenge with a wealth of preexisting knowledge, we may inadvertently erect barricades of assumptions, biases, and preconceived notions that limit our ability to think outside the box. These barricades can be self-imposed, as we unconsciously filter new information through the lens of what we already know, or they can be imposed by the weight of conventional wisdom and established practices within a field.

In contrast, ignorance can be a potent force for creativity and progress. When we approach a task with a blank slate, unencumbered by the baggage of prior knowledge, we are more likely to approach it with a sense of curiosity and open-mindedness. We are free to ask questions that may seem naive to the initiated but can potentially lead to fresh perspectives and innovative solutions. Ignorance, in this sense, becomes a canvas upon which we can paint new ideas without the constraints of established paradigms.

This idea is not new; in fact, it echoes the concepts of beginner’s mind and shoshin, central tenets in Zen Buddhism. These principles encourage practitioners to approach each experience with a fresh, open mind, free from preconceptions and prejudices. By embracing a state of not-knowing, we become more receptive to the present moment, allowing us to perceive things as they truly are, rather than through the filter of our expectations and assumptions.

The power of ignorance can be observed in various fields, from science and technology to art and literature. Consider the case of outsiders who have revolutionized entire disciplines by approaching them with a fresh, unencumbered perspective. Albert Einstein, for instance, challenged the very foundations of physics with his groundbreaking theories, which emerged from his ability to question longstanding assumptions about the nature of space, time, and gravity.

In the realm of art, naïve artists, untrained in formal techniques and unburdened by the weight of traditional art education, have produced works that defy conventions and challenge our perceptions of what constitutes “art.” Their ignorance of the rules and norms of the art world has paradoxically allowed them to create works that are truly original and avant-garde.

Of course, ignorance alone is not a panacea for progress. It must be accompanied by a willingness to learn, a curiosity to explore, and a commitment to mastering the necessary skills and knowledge required to bring one’s ideas to fruition. Ignorance, in this context, is not a permanent state but rather a temporary suspension of preconceived notions, a stepping stone towards new understanding and growth.

In our fast-paced, information-saturated world, where knowledge is readily accessible and expertise is often valued above all else, Rubin’s quote serves as a timely reminder to embrace the power of not-knowing. By approaching tasks and challenges with a beginner’s mind, we may just find the key to unlocking the barricades of knowledge that have been holding us back, and discover new paths to progress and innovation.