How AI Could Keep Young Workers From Getting the Skills They Need
Who will train them? Nobody, unless companies take steps now to eliminate the inevitable skills gap
Who will train them? Nobody, unless companies take steps now to eliminate the inevitable skills gap
Whenever people talk about the dangers AI holds for the workforce, they usually have one thing in mind: technology stealing jobs. But artificial intelligence poses a much more subtle threat than that—one that will have consequences for business unless we address it.
Simply put, the way we’re handling AI is keeping young workers from learning skills.
For more than 12 years, I have been studying how work changes as a result of intelligent technologies like robots and AI. Across a number of industries, I’ve seen the same thing over and over: This new, sophisticated technology makes it easier for experts to do their jobs. Seasoned surgeons can operate more quickly and efficiently, for instance, when they use robots in the operating room.
But the efficiency comes at a cost. The technology allows experts to do more, independently, so they don’t need younger, less-experienced workers to help them out anymore—so those novices are left without mentors to teach them the skills they need to do their job. Looking at operating rooms again, it takes two people to perform most complex procedures with traditional tools. The senior surgeon generally provides “exposure” by retracting tissue while the resident does what most of us think of as surgery—incisions, suturing and so on. Residents are on task the entire time. Focused. Learning.
Now the residents mostly sit around during operations and watch veteran surgeons get the job done thanks to help from a robot. Limited work. Limited learning.
As learning opportunities like these are lost throughout more industries, the results could be profound for both individual workers and the economy. We are sacrificing skill building and human bonds of mentoring on the altar of productivity. No matter our role, tenure, occupation or industry, if we can’t collaborate with someone who knows more, we’re not going to learn effectively, and we won’t be able to keep up. And our organisations will struggle where they might otherwise race ahead—because workers won’t have the deep knowledge they need to innovate and step into senior roles.
We have decades of research showing that this situation is the opposite of what we want. We build skill by collaborating across the expert/novice divide, so novices get to see the work, help out at the edges and earn the privilege of doing more next time.
Now that mechanism is being lost. My observations, combined with primary data from other field researchers, show a destructive dynamic at work, across a range of industries. In industrial-process engineering, I have seen experts use software to do modeling on their own, instead of involving a junior engineer. In warehousing, I’ve watched area managers rely on dashboard analytics to understand staffing and process flows, instead of uncovering those things collaboratively with less-experienced line leads and workers.
My collaborator Callen Anthony at New York University found that junior investment-banking analysts were being separated from senior partners as those partners started to use algorithms to help create company valuations for mergers and acquisitions. Junior analysts—instead of collaborating with the senior partners as they had before—essentially just pulled data for the algorithms to use in their valuations.
The rationale for this arrangement was twofold: reduce errors by junior people in sophisticated work and maximise senior partners’ efficiency. Explaining the work to junior staffers pulled partners away from higher-level analysis.
This setup produced short-run productivity improvement, but it moved junior analysts away from challenging, complex work, making it harder for them to learn the entire valuation process and diminishing the firm’s future capability. Junior bankers become senior bankers, after all.
One of the most striking examples of the widening skill gap is surgery. I observed hundreds of procedures at some of the top teaching hospitals in the country, where robots deeply reshaped how work was done. Surgery, as I said, used to take four hands; minimally invasive surgical robots can supply three, all controllable from a single console. They make things so much easier for surgeons that the million-dollar tools have become the de facto standard for many complex procedures.
Most important, robots make it possible for surgeons to perform operations solo, no residents needed. And, since residents are slower and make more mistakes than an experienced surgeon would, those surgeons are opting to cut residents out of the action. Before, residents might operate for four hours during a 4½-hour procedure. In my nationwide data, their robotic average time hovered in the 10- to 15-minute range. And residents got less operating time in 88% to 92% of cases.
In this situation, we end up with much-less-capable surgeons. My data shows that many newly minted surgeons struggle mightily when they get their first jobs—not just because they don’t have robotic skill, but because their failed quest to learn robotics took so much effort they lost key learning opportunities in other procedures and practice areas, from ureteroscopy to kidney stones to vasectomies, that they would be expected to handle in most new surgical jobs.
The consequences of poor training go beyond day-to-day competence. Consider what happens to the culture of a hospital when it loses healthy expert/novice collaborations. Less teaching and learning, to be sure, but also more-limited career advancement as experts advocate less for trainees. What about hospitals’ ability to innovate in surgical practices? Limits there, too, as discoveries made by colleagues get tamped down by increasingly focused, efficient, expert-driven surgical performance. The ability to service skyrocketing surgical demand? In the short run, you serve more patients, but in the medium term you scramble to keep up as the pool of new talent dwindles.
Of course, different organisations, industries and professions in different places will feel the pinch on different time scales. They will also compensate in different ways. But in general, organisations will not sense the problem directly: Instead, they will incrementally accumulate a larger cost base—in areas such as (re)training and reduced billable or applied time—and build a bureaucracy to manage this skills gap. At law firms, new attorneys might take longer to ramp up to normal caseloads, while senior attorneys would have to spend more non billable time to handhold them.
Now imagine the consequences of similar skills gap across all types of companies, throughout the economy. Without a firm, immediate correction, this is what we can expect. This is our trillion-dollar skills problem.
Solving the problem is vital, but how should we do it? My collaborator and I found evidence of one approach that can work.
Remember, the problem right now is that senior workers are learning new technologies, such as robotic surgery, that make junior workers unnecessary. In our research, though, we found cases where junior and senior workers teamed up to learn about new technologies together .
By working closely with seniors in this way, the juniors didn’t just learn about the new technologies, they ended up collaborating with seniors on other aspects of the job. Since the older and younger workers were figuring out how the tech worked, they also needed to figure out how to integrate it into vital day-to-day tasks. So, the novices got to see firsthand how those jobs were done while performing actual work.
For instance, in my research, I saw some residents and senior urologists team up to learn robotic techniques in live surgical procedures. In those cases, the residents got much more actual hands-on operating time than residents who mostly just watched robotic procedures—10 times more. And the quality of that time was far better: Expert and novice were jointly figuring out how to use the tech, just as they had a patient on the table.
Granted, this process isn’t easy. In our research, we found that these collaborations often failed. But when they did work, they were powerfully effective. We need more companies to take the chance and implement this strategy, to figure out how to make it most effective and serve as examples.
It will not only help close the skills gap, it will give old and new workers a new sense of purpose on the job—through strengthened relationships. Research shows very clearly that we get motivation for our work when it builds trust and respect with those who share our values. Progressing to more competence therefore involves questions of the heart, like, “Have I earned this expert’s trust and respect?” or “Does this novice look up to me?”
We often treat these issues as unconnected with hard-nosed skill and results, when they are a core part of why we try at all in the first place. They are the animating force for the journey.
Matthew Beane is an assistant professor at the University of California, Santa Barbara, and author of “ The Skill Code: How to Save Human Ability in an Age of Intelligent Machines.”
A divide has opened in the tech job market between those with artificial-intelligence skills and everyone else.
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A divide has opened in the tech job market between those with artificial-intelligence skills and everyone else.
There has rarely, if ever, been so much tech talent available in the job market. Yet many tech companies say good help is hard to find.
What gives?
U.S. colleges more than doubled the number of computer-science degrees awarded from 2013 to 2022, according to federal data. Then came round after round of layoffs at Google, Meta, Amazon, and others.
The Bureau of Labor Statistics predicts businesses will employ 6% fewer computer programmers in 2034 than they did last year.
All of this should, in theory, mean there is an ample supply of eager, capable engineers ready for hire.
But in their feverish pursuit of artificial-intelligence supremacy, employers say there aren’t enough people with the most in-demand skills. The few perceived as AI savants can command multimillion-dollar pay packages. On a second tier of AI savvy, workers can rake in close to $1 million a year .
Landing a job is tough for most everyone else.
Frustrated job seekers contend businesses could expand the AI talent pipeline with a little imagination. The argument is companies should accept that relatively few people have AI-specific experience because the technology is so new. They ought to focus on identifying candidates with transferable skills and let those people learn on the job.
Often, though, companies seem to hold out for dream candidates with deep backgrounds in machine learning. Many AI-related roles go unfilled for weeks or months—or get taken off job boards only to be reposted soon after.
It is difficult to define what makes an AI all-star, but I’m sorry to report that it’s probably not whatever you’re doing.
Maybe you’re learning how to work more efficiently with the aid of ChatGPT and its robotic brethren. Perhaps you’re taking one of those innumerable AI certificate courses.
You might as well be playing pickup basketball at your local YMCA in hopes of being signed by the Los Angeles Lakers. The AI minds that companies truly covet are almost as rare as professional athletes.
“We’re talking about hundreds of people in the world, at the most,” says Cristóbal Valenzuela, chief executive of Runway, which makes AI image and video tools.
He describes it like this: Picture an AI model as a machine with 1,000 dials. The goal is to train the machine to detect patterns and predict outcomes. To do this, you have to feed it reams of data and know which dials to adjust—and by how much.
The universe of people with the right touch is confined to those with uncanny intuition, genius-level smarts or the foresight (possibly luck) to go into AI many years ago, before it was all the rage.
As a venture-backed startup with about 120 employees, Runway doesn’t necessarily vie with Silicon Valley giants for the AI job market’s version of LeBron James. But when I spoke with Valenzuela recently, his company was advertising base salaries of up to $440,000 for an engineering manager and $490,000 for a director of machine learning.
A job listing like one of these might attract 2,000 applicants in a week, Valenzuela says, and there is a decent chance he won’t pick any of them. A lot of people who claim to be AI literate merely produce “workslop”—generic, low-quality material. He spends a lot of time reading academic journals and browsing GitHub portfolios, and recruiting people whose work impresses him.
In addition to an uncommon skill set, companies trying to win in the hypercompetitive AI arena are scouting for commitment bordering on fanaticism .
Daniel Park is seeking three new members for his nine-person startup. He says he will wait a year or longer if that’s what it takes to fill roles with advertised base salaries of up to $500,000.
He’s looking for “prodigies” willing to work seven days a week. Much of the team lives together in a six-bedroom house in San Francisco.
If this sounds like a lonely existence, Park’s team members may be able to solve their own problem. His company, Pickle, aims to develop personalised AI companions akin to Tony Stark’s Jarvis in “Iron Man.”
James Strawn wasn’t an AI early adopter, and the father of two teenagers doesn’t want to sacrifice his personal life for a job. He is beginning to wonder whether there is still a place for people like him in the tech sector.
He was laid off over the summer after 25 years at Adobe , where he was a senior software quality-assurance engineer. Strawn, 55, started as a contractor and recalls his hiring as a leap of faith by the company.
He had been an artist and graphic designer. The managers who interviewed him figured he could use that background to help make Illustrator and other Adobe software more user-friendly.
Looking for work now, he doesn’t see the same willingness by companies to take a chance on someone whose résumé isn’t a perfect match to the job description. He’s had one interview since his layoff.
“I always thought my years of experience at a high-profile company would at least be enough to get me interviews where I could explain how I could contribute,” says Strawn, who is taking foundational AI courses. “It’s just not like that.”
The trouble for people starting out in AI—whether recent grads or job switchers like Strawn—is that companies see them as a dime a dozen.
“There’s this AI arms race, and the fact of the matter is entry-level people aren’t going to help you win it,” says Matt Massucci, CEO of the tech recruiting firm Hirewell. “There’s this concept of the 10x engineer—the one engineer who can do the work of 10. That’s what companies are really leaning into and paying for.”
He adds that companies can automate some low-level engineering tasks, which frees up more money to throw at high-end talent.
It’s a dynamic that creates a few handsomely paid haves and a lot more have-nots.
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A divide has opened in the tech job market between those with artificial-intelligence skills and everyone else.