Rethinking thought leadership in the AI age

NY: Let’s set the scene. We’re in a moment where almost anyone can use AI to produce pitch-perfect copy on demand. Well, at first glance, it reads beautifully – but when you look closer, it often starts to fall apart, like a hastily assembled IKEA bookshelf.

There’s a certain irony here: to get the most out of AI, you need to be a skilled analogue operator – someone who can sense when something’s off, ask better questions, and coax it into saying something useful.

And at the same time, our discourse has been bent out of shape by social media algorithms. The combined effect of these two forces – AI-generated content and algorithmic distortion – is that the loudest voices often say the least. Meanwhile, the valuable, useful signals are getting drowned out. 

Or are they?

A brilliant LinkedIn post by brand strategist James Kirkham gives me some hope. He talks about the emergence of a quiet countermovement. On the lip of the volcano, as it were, a vibrant and hardy cultural ecosystem is springing into life. He describes it as “lo-fi, discreet, decentralised” – a new type of discourse thriving in the cracks: closed chat groups, shared folders and docs, voice notes. Access to these forms of content is contingent on relationships, networks, local context – not visibility in the open feed. There’s a shift, or maybe an expansion, beyond the performative noise of mainstream platforms, towards smaller, more thoughtful spaces. Spaces where people can think better, together. 

What do you make of this, Imogen? Should comms professionals see themselves less as message-makers, and more as space-makers?

IR: I think the context you’ve just described shows exactly why we can’t forget the fundamentals of our job – to create genuine connections. That’s at the heart of my frustration with AI-generated content and social media algorithms. The interplay between them seems to be dulling the impact of real connection. We’ve hit a saturation point, leaving us numb to viral content and second-guessing the value of messaging. 

So it’s no surprise that new spaces are emerging. I have friends who are part of closed WhatsApp groups created by fashion brands for select customers. They get early access, discounts, event invites. These spaces feel more like communities than marketing channels – and there’s clear loyalty to be gained from getting that right. But as comms professionals, it does require a mental shift around what success looks like.

So I suppose my question back is: how can we, as communicators, engage with these quieter spaces in ways that are both respectful and impactful?

NY: That’s a great question. I think one way is by tapping into a uniquely human trait, one that AI hasn’t synthesised – yet! – our curiosity.

You mentioned those WhatsApp groups. They work not just because they’re exclusive, but because they spark curiosity – they offer discovery. It’s the same instinct that makes someone scan a QR code on a lamppost. Not because it’s loud or viral, but because it feels like a doorway to something new.

It’s not just the spaces themselves that matter – it’s the entrances, the invitations, the signposts. Maybe our job isn’t just to command attention, but to help design the paths in. To show people where the valuable conversations are happening, and to know when to step aside and make room for others.

So if our role is shifting – from commanding attention to designing invitations – what skills or mindsets do you think communicators need to nurture next?

IR: We’re going full circle, because I think answering this question takes us back to how we view AI in communications. You mentioned curiosity as a way of engaging audiences – but it’s also something we need to hold onto as communicators. The worst thing we can do is over-rely on AI and lose our own sense of enquiry. 

Why does this message matter? Who needs to hear it? What is it about this moment, this context, that gives me the right to speak to this topic? My plea to all communicators is that we don’t lose the mindset that allows us to be genuinely curious for ourselves, and for those we advise.