ChatGPT on Adam Grant
Having lost an article I’d written about three of Adam Grant’s books, I asked an AI-ologist friend to find it in my laptop. Unfortunately he couldn’t, so instead he kindly asked ChatCPT to write it on my behalf. He fed thirty of my past columns into the app so it could get a feel for my style, and then gave it this prompt: “Extract the style of Mike Eldon from the document and use it to analyse the books of Adam Grant listed above.” Here’s what emerged with the usual AI speed…
On Being Bold, Humble, and Human: Adam Grant’s Lessons for Kenya Today
In my years of working with Kenyan leaders, teachers, youth groups, and executives – from Kisumu to Kilifi – I’ve often found myself returning to one quiet question: Can kindness survive the pressures of performance? Can empathy and ambition walk together? Adam Grant seems to think so. And as I reflect on his ideas, I find echoes of our local struggles, and, our quiet triumphs.
Take for example the idea that we should learn to “think again” – to unlearn, to remain curious, to admit we might be wrong. This, I find, is deeply counter-cultural in many Kenyan institutions, where hierarchy can freeze dialogue and where a title sometimes carries more weight than an idea. But I’ve also seen young professionals in Nairobi tech hubs and rural community organizations challenge outdated assumptions, ask better questions, and surprise even themselves. As Grant reminds us: intellectual humility isn’t weakness—it’s wisdom.
Then there’s the myth of raw talent. In a country where exam results define futures and where brilliance is often measured by a grade, Grant’s notion of hidden potential is both refreshing and liberating. He tells us that coachability, not credentials, is the true predictor of greatness. And indeed, I’ve witnessed it – an overlooked intern in a county office who becomes an indispensable problem-solver; a high school dropout in Kakamega who leads her peers in microenterprise. What they needed wasn’t a head start. It was someone to believe in their stretch.
But belief isn’t enough – we must also act. In Give and Take, Grant distinguishes between takers, matchers, and givers. I thought about this as I mentored a young NGO leader struggling with burnout. She was giving too much. Yet, Grant reminds us, being a giver isn’t about being a martyr—it’s about sustainable service. In Kenya, where communal responsibility often collides with individual limits, this is a vital lesson. Generosity needs boundaries. Philanthropy needs self-care.
One of Grant’s most profound collaborations is Option B, which speaks to resilience after tragedy. And here, we need not look far. From post-election trauma to pandemic loss, Kenyans carry many invisible wounds. I think of teachers who show up after personal grief, boda boda riders who persist after injury, single mothers in Mathare who rise each day with quiet strength. Option B gives us language for their courage and, more importantly, tools for healing. In it, Grant and Sheryl Sandberg offer what I would call structured empathy—a kind of practical compassion we need more of in our workplaces and homes.
Finally, Originals is perhaps the most Kenyan of all the books—though not in the way you might think. We are a deeply creative people. From handmade jikos to high-tech startups, we are natural innovators. But what Grant does is dignify the slow-burning rebel, the one who doubts before they disrupt. He teaches us that being original isn’t about being loud—it’s about being committed. This lesson could guide many a changemaker in our counties and ministries.
Adam Grant is not writing for Kenyans, and yet, his work reads like a mirror. It reflects our potential, our mistakes, our hopes. It challenges us to lead without ego, to mentor without condescension, to grieve without shame, and to grow without limits.
What I take from Grant, and what I hope others do too, is this: Success isn’t what you have; it’s what you share. Leadership isn’t dominance; it’s dialogue. Progress isn’t perfection; it’s permission—to rethink, relearn, and rise again.
In Kenya today—where we hunger for ethical leadership, where our youth brim with restless energy, and where communities demand both dignity and development – Grant’s work reminds us to remain bold enough to speak, humble enough to listen, and human enough to feel.
So there it is – very thoughtful and articulate, although not fully a reflection of my style. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll have another go at the topic myself, using my human intelligence.
