Educating the “Human Advantage”: Leadership for the Age of AI
A few weeks ago, I returned to Cornell University for meetings with the Dyson Advisory Council and the broader College of Business community, which included advisors from the Johnson School of Business and the Nolan Hotel School.
It was energizing to walk the same halls where I once studied—and humbling to see the transformation that’s taken place since then. The dominant topic? Artificial Intelligence.
Every conversation—from our board discussions to sideline conversations—focused on one shared question: What does it mean to learn, teach, lead, and succeed in an era shaped by AI?
A Different Kind of Generation Gap.
Cornell’s transparency around both the promise and the pitfalls of AI in education impressed me. Faculty are not avoiding the topic—they are experimenting, debating, and working to design new norms for ethical and effective use.
But one comment from an early-career professor gave me pause.
“I’ve never taught without the use of AI.”
That statement startled me like a thunderclap.
When I was in graduate school, Google was the innovation that changed how we researched and thought. I still remember joining the U.S. International Trade Commission in 1999 and introducing my colleagues to Google search. They were amazed: “What’s Google?” they asked. No more extended microfiche sessions?
Now, one generation later, professors have never known a classroom without AI. The contrast is striking—and it reveals just how much the foundations of knowledge, inquiry, and leadership have evolved.
The Real Risk: Losing the Practice of Thinking.
AI is transforming the skills students need to succeed. The danger lies not in the use of AI itself but in losing the ability to think critically without it.
As students enter a workforce being reshaped by automation, they face a new kind of test: remaining distinctly human. The leaders of tomorrow will not be defined by their mastery of technology but by their ability to think deeply, connect meaningfully, and create boldly.
Employers will seek people who can interpret what AI produces, apply discernment, and connect insights across disciplines. They’ll look for leaders who can see beyond the algorithm, bringing imagination, empathy, and intuition to challenges that data alone cannot solve.
Rediscovering the Art of Creativity.
One faculty member explained that her teaching now centers on innovation—helping students use AI to extend human potential rather than replace it.
That insight brought me back to an early-career memory. In the 1990s, I discovered A Whack on the Side of the Head by Roger von Oech. The book invited readers to break habitual patterns, to think playfully and curiously, to look at problems from angles that logic alone would never find.
It taught me something enduring: creativity isn’t taught—it’s practiced. My father used to tell me that I was an amazing artist, but “you just don’t paint enough.” It was his way of encouraging me to create more.
Students today need the same practice. Creativity cannot remain an elective; it must become a core leadership discipline. The next generation of leaders must use AI to stretch imagination, spark new ideas, and take intelligent risks that move systems forward.
The Human Framework for the Future of Work.
At Cornell, the conversation often returned to one shared goal: preparing students to lead in a future where AI can begin to outpace them. Universities often rely on rubrics that measure performance through points and precision. Yet, leadership for the AI era can’t be scored by a checklist. Students should not be assessed by rubric alone.
From those reflections, I personally distilled nine human capacities that universities can reinforce and that can help students—and all of us—maintain differentiation, leadership, and personal agency over technology in an age of intelligent machines. These capabilities form the foundation of what I call the human advantage.
Inspiration. Universities should awaken purpose and curiosity, helping students draw insight from art, science, history, and nature to fuel meaningful discovery.
Creativity. Courses must nurture original thinking—encouraging students to connect ideas across disciplines and imagine solutions beyond the algorithm.
Exploration. Learning expands when students move beyond assigned boundaries, pursuing inquiry through interdisciplinary study, community projects, and global experiences.
Experimentation. Students learn best by testing, failing, and trying again. Campuses should treat classrooms and labs as studios for discovery and adaptive thinking.
Innovation. Universities translate ideas into impact when they link theory to real-world applications, teaching students to turn creativity into systems and solutions.
Application. Students must learn to use technology as a tool to extend human capability, applying AI responsibly and grounding every decision in discernment and ethics.
Evaluation. Higher education must teach students to think critically and ethically, assessing not only results but the implications of their choices.
Communication. Graduates need to express ideas clearly, listen deeply, and bridge perspectives. Communication becomes the skill that turns knowledge into shared understanding.
Execution. Leadership demands follow-through. Universities should cultivate discipline, collaboration, and accountability so students learn to turn ideas into action.
These nine steps form a human curriculum, which is a developmental pathway universities can use to help students remain adaptable, self-aware, and capable of leadership in any environment. They’re not soft skills; they’re the essential muscles of leadership.
The Microsoft Moment and the Meaning of Being Human.
Last week with an open article, Microsoft AI CEO Mustafa Suleyman cautioned against confusing machines with people, calling the idea of granting AI human rights “dangerous and misguided.” His statement reinforced an important truth: AI, no matter how advanced, remains a tool, not a being. It can reason through data, but it cannot possess consciousness.
That clarity matters—because in an age when machines appear to “think,” society must remember what only humans can do: discern purpose, feel compassion, and create from soul, not code.
This truth also aligns with my own faith-based view. AI is not and never will be a conscious being. It is not of God. It cannot love, hope, or pray. It cannot relate to the Divine or experience the moral weight of a decision. It can replicate language, but it is not of the Spirit and cannot reflect spirit.
The moment we forget this distinction, we risk handing moral agency to an algorithm. Students—and all future leaders—must hold fast to their humanity and lead technology, rather than be led by it.
The “Human Advantage.”
AI continues to evolve faster than any educational syllabus can adapt. The task for schools and universities is to prepare students not just to use AI, but to guide it, and the future belongs not to those who compete with AI; it belongs to those who direct it.
AI can simulate answers. Only people can discern meaning and assess moral application.
So, to students everywhere: embrace this technology, but let your humanity define your use of it. The goal is not to be better than AI. The goal is for leaders to be brilliantly, courageously human.