Or “Designing training programmes in the age of AI”

Fun fact: the first AI saw the day in 1812 under the guise of a talking mirror in the Grimm Brothers’ Snow White. “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?”  In the name of truth, the magical object taps into the Queen’s worst fear: no longer being the most beautiful. Her jealousy pushes her to hatch a diabolical plan as heartless as that snarky mirror, one that involves an infamous poisoned apple… Isn’t that mirror fascinating? An animated reflection entirely incapable of lying, that claims to be strictly objective – it is the very embodiment of soulless artificial intelligence. It doesn’t think or feel. It executes orders. Ask it a question and it replies, regardless of the consequences. The decision to act is not its own: it is a slave.

The jump from mirror to screen is small. Isn’t it thrilling to get the truth with just a few clicks? AI is incredibly responsive. All it takes is a magic formula—a “prompt.” Mirror, mirror… “Why entrust to a third party what you can do yourself?” asks my grandmother. To save time, of course! “But are you sure you can trust this external source?” She has a point: why should the mirror judge the Queen’s beauty better than the Queen herself? Nothing is more subjective than physical beauty. ChatGPT’s objectivity is relative, and so is its accuracy. Don’t take anything this reflective surface says at at face value—demand sources. Like Alice, step through the looking glass and check each link; they’re not always reliable. Be careful not to make any decisions without double-checking. And above all, take a step back and breathe: AI offers cold analysis devoid of any emotion. Temper it, digest it, make it your own. Add a human touch where there is none.

This article isn’t about denying AI’s magic but about learning how to master it. ChatGPT follows me everywhere like a loyal pup. Every morning, I whistle at my computer, and there it is at attention in my toolbar, awaiting instructions. AI supports me, assists me, informs me, and dutifully carries out all the tedious tasks I assign it. Its science is boundless, its magic limitless. But in doing so, it highlights my own ignorance. I’m the master, it’s the slave, yet it surpasses me. Hegel couldn’t have said it better. In the philosopher’s famous dialectic, the master commands but does not work: he depends on the slave to transform the world. The slave, by toiling, develops autonomy and self-awareness. In the end, only he progresses and becomes free—the master remains dependent, because true power comes from effort and experience. AI, like the universe, is in constant expansion. It feeds on our questions to grow and evolve. And our dependence on it crescendos. Instead of spending five minutes searching on our own, we sink deeper into passivity.

As trainers, we face a major dilemma: to use AI or not? How can we use it without losing our creativity? How far can we delegate training design to an entity that writes it without understanding? According to Stanford professor Andrew Ng, just as electricity transformed every industry, AI is revolutionizing our lives. And that involves risks: Elon Musk considers it more dangerous than a nuclear weapon. “We are heading towards a digital superintelligence that far exceeds any human intelligence”, he told Forbes. “The rate of AI improvement is far greater than expected.” It’s clear we can’t do without it. But that doesn’t mean the end of the human touch. The invention of the sewing machine, for example, didn’t eliminate the need for stitching by hand. Just ask a skilled leather artisan. We can apply the same logic to our use of AI in designing training programmes. Our work as craftsmen demands that we don’t give in to convenience and instead use AI in moderation. We must distinguish between the design, writing and training stages. Each has its own AI.

Let’s start with design. Don’t submit a subject to AI without thinking about it first. Under no circumstances should AI take the initiative. Start by building your structure yourself, then ask it for additional input—otherwise your plan will be flat, insipid, generic—in short, typically AI-generated. Observe its responses, judge them for their worth and adjust. Some will claim that a good prompt, in abracadabra mode, yields excellent results. No—it requires your plan to be complete beforehand. Take time to think. Ask, but don’t delegate. By being the creator of your document, you nourish your thoughts, shape yourself and, above all, protect the singularity of your thinking. My recommendation: don’t ask AI to read core documents for you. You’ll get a cold summary, whereas you could have picked up emotions, intuitions—in short, everything that will make your training session inspiring and unique.

When it comes to writing, AI will be your greatest ally—like walking sticks that help you climb. Use it to enrich your materials. Think of the time saved! Michelangelo didn’t paint the Sistine Chapel alone. He drew the plans and then got help.

And now, facilitate. This is the most human, irreplaceable part of your training. At The Wind Rose, we’re strong advocates of blended learning, which skillfully combines digital and face-to-face learning, bringing out the best in both. Digital before and after, to explore and repeat; human presence at the heart, to learn and feel. Because emotion and dialogue remain central.

“They may forget what you said,
but they will never forget how you made them feel”,

proclaimed Carl Buehner—not Maya Angelou, as often claimed (thank you ChatGPT for clearing that up).

Disappointed with his assistants, Michelangelo eventually dismissed them. He is said to have repainted their work, which he found subpar. You alone are the master—keep that power in your hands, so that artificial intelligence does not turn us into superficial beings.

And you? What are your best uses of AI?