Choosing Humans: Hospitality’s Next Premium

There is something paradoxical about standing on stage at a technology conference, surrounded by technology professionals, and announcing that the day's most important subject will be... human beings. Well, that's what I did during Infor Hospitality Connect in Copenhagen, where I had the pleasure of delivering my keynote on a concept I have been developing for several years: Humans-as-Luxury.

Hospitality is relational

The word hospitality comes from the Latin hospes, a fascinating term that can refer to both the host and the guest. In the same word, the Romans placed both sides of the reception desk. Whatever commercial form it takes, hospitality describes a reciprocal relationship between two people who, despite occupying different positions, participate in the same experience. The host exists because there is a guest, and the guest becomes a guest because someone assumes the role of host. Hospitality is, therefore, something host and guest create together.

The host exists because there is a guest, and the guest becomes a guest because someone assumes the role of host. Hospitality is, therefore, something host and guest create together.

This becomes particularly interesting when we discuss tecnology, AI, and automation. If we remove the human host entirely, do we still have hospitality? Or have we created something different, perhaps functional, efficient, and commercially successful, but fundamentally distinct? An automated hotel can certainly provide excellent accommodation. What I question is whether accommodation and hospitality are necessarily the same thing. In ancient Greek culture, hospitality was a moral responsibility, protected by Zeus himself. For the Greeks, hospitality was therefore much more than providing a comfortable bed, food, or shelter. It carried an ethical dimension.

For the Greeks, hospitality was therefore much more than providing a comfortable bed, food, or shelter. It carried an ethical dimension.

This led me to a question I have been asking myself recently: should hospitality professionals take an oath, much like physicians do? Not necessarily a literal Hippocratic oath, although that would be an interesting experiment, but some form of shared ethical commitment to protecting the relationship between host and guest. Because the challenge we face today may appear technological, but at its core, it is profoundly human.

Should hospitality professionals take an oath, much like physicians do?

We dont' have an "AI problem". We have a "people problem"

Hospitality is one of the world's largest employment ecosystems, supporting hundreds of millions of jobs across travel and tourism. And yet, we are facing a structural problem: we need people, but finding, retaining, and developing them is becoming increasingly difficult. Travel demand continues to grow, while demographic changes, migration policies, employee turnover, and shifting career expectations make the situation more complicated. Higher salaries can help, of course, but they are only part of the solution. As a lecturer, moreover, I regularly observe another phenomenon. We train students in hospitality management, leadership, emotional intelligence, operations, and relationship management, giving them highly transferable skills, and then... other industries hire them!

We train students in hospitality management, leadership, emotional intelligence, operations, and relationship management, giving them highly transferable skills, and then... other industries hire them!

Luxury retail, finance, technology, and countless other sectors are increasingly interested in hospitality-educated people because, ultimately, we teach them to understand and manage human relationships.

Other sectors are increasingly interested in hospitality-educated people because, ultimately, we teach them to understand and manage human relationships.

Japan, robot monks, and the automation of the sacred

When I want to understand what the future might look like, I often look at Japan. It combines extraordinary technological sophistication with one of the world's most significant "people problem": demographic collapse. Its ageing population and declining birth rate have made labour shortages a structural reality. What I find particularly fascinating is what happens when automation enters environments we traditionally consider fundamentally human. Take religion, for example. If there is one domain where we might expect human presence to remain essential, surely it is spirituality. And yet, Japan has experimented with robotic religious services, including robots participating in Buddhist funeral ceremonies and robotic figures delivering religious teachings (more on the topic here: Simone Puorto, Does AI Have Buddha Nature? Buddharoid, Kannon Mindar, and the Problem of the Self in Artificial (and in Human)).

Of course, these remain largely experimental or symbolic applications, but the philosophical implications are fascinating. If machines can participate in rituals traditionally associated with the sacred, why assume hospitality is immune to automation?

If machines can participate in rituals traditionally associated with the sacred, why assume hospitality is immune to automation?

Can a machine perform a particular activity? And, perhaps more importantly, do we want that activity to be performed by a machine? I suspect we spend far too much time discussing the first and not nearly enough discussing the second.

The automation trap

In their work on service automation (book here), Stanislav Ivanov and Craig Webster have explored the implications of robotics and artificial intelligence for tourism and hospitality. When an industry faces labour shortages, the available responses broadly include increasing the domestic workforce, recruiting workers from elsewhere, or replacing human labour through technology, but each option comes with its limitations.

When an industry faces labour shortages, the available responses broadly include increasing the domestic workforce, recruiting workers from elsewhere, or replacing human labour through technology.

Increasing birth rates is hardly an immediate solution. Even if we started producing future hotel employees today, they would not be available for the night shift for quite some time... Immigration can help, but it is increasingly entangled with political debates and restrictive policies. Automation, meanwhile, looks incredibly attractive because machines do not require traditional shifts, holidays, or career progression.

I understand why technology has become such a dominant part of our conversations. What worries me is the language we use: "Adapt or die!" "There is no going back!" "The future is inevitable!" We have somehow started describing a collection of human decisions as though they were a natural disaster. This reminds me of Mark Fisher and his concept of Capitalist Realism. Fisher explored the idea that it has become easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism. Sometimes I wonder whether we are developing a form of Automation Realism: we seem increasingly capable of imagining a world without human workers, but almost incapable of imagining a future in which we deliberately choose to preserve them.

We are developing a form of automation realism: we seem increasingly capable of imagining a world without human workers, but almost incapable of imagining a future in which we deliberately choose to preserve them.

The 3 Hotel Futures: technocentric, hybrid, and anthropocentric

A few years ago, I developed a framework inspired by the technological transformations I was observing in hospitality.

I called it the 3-Hotel-Problem.

The idea is relatively simple: hotels can follow different technological trajectories, depending on the relationship they choose to establish between human labour, automation, and guest interaction.

1. The technocentric hotel: high tech, no touch

In the first model, automation becomes the operating philosophy. Guests book online, check in digitally, enter their rooms with smartphones, interact with AI assistants, and complete most of their stay without ever speaking to another human. In extreme versions of this model, the guest effectively becomes their own host. We already experience something similar in parts of the short-term rental market: you receive a code, open a lockbox, enter the property, and communicate through an application if something goes wrong. And you know what? Sometimes that is perfectly fine. If I am visiting London for a short business trip and simply need a clean room for a few hours, I may have absolutely no interest in elaborate service rituals. The technocentric model has a legitimate place in the market.

If I am visiting London for a short business trip and simply need a clean room for a few hours, I may have absolutely no interest in elaborate service rituals. The technocentric model has a legitimate place in the market.

But it raises a question: when every interaction becomes self-service, are we still selling hospitality, or are we selling access to infrastructure?

When every interaction becomes self-service, are we still selling hospitality, or are we selling access to infrastructure?

2. The hybrid hotel: high tech, selective touch

The second model is the hybrid hotel, and I suspect it will become the dominant model across much of the industry. Here, technology handles tasks where automation creates clear value, while people remain responsible for interactions that require judgment, empathy, creativity, or personal relationships. AI can support revenue management, forecasting, reservations, distribution, administration, and countless operational processes. Robotics can assist with repetitive physical tasks. The objective should be to create the conditions for human interactions to become more meaningful, because if we automate repetitive activities only to ask our remaining employees to work faster, follow more scripts, and behave more mechanically, I am not entirely sure we have understood the assignment. The purpose of automating the repetitive should be to make room for the irreplaceable.

If we automate repetitive activities only to ask our remaining employees to work faster, follow more scripts, and behave more mechanically, I am not entirely sure we have understood the assignment. The purpose of automating the repetitive should be to make room for the irreplaceable.

3. The anthropocentric hotel: high tech, high touch

The third model is the one I find most philosophically interesting. In an anthropocentric hotel, human interaction becomes a deliberate element of the property's identity, positioning, and value proposition. Technology is still there, potentially extremely sophisticated, but it operates primarily in the background. Guests may encounter as much technology as anywhere else, but they experience human attention. The hotel has consciously decided to keep certain interactions in human hands. And this brings us to Humans-as-Luxury.

Humans-as-Luxury: when human presence becomes the premium

Luxury has always been partly defined by scarcity. When something becomes universally accessible, its capacity to function as a luxury differentiator tends to diminish.

Luxury has always been partly defined by scarcity. When something becomes universally accessible, its capacity to function as a luxury differentiator tends to diminish.

For decades, hospitality has associated luxury with physical assets: architecture, location, room size, materials, amenities, and increasingly personalised services. But what happens when artificial intelligence makes personalisation almost universally accessible? When every hotel can generate personalised recommendations, communicate in dozens of languages, anticipate preferences, and automate an increasing number of guest interactions, what becomes scarce? Potentially, the human being. Speaking to a person could gradually shift from the default experience to a premium service.

Speaking to a person could gradually shift from the default experience to a premium service.

We can already see elements of this in other industries. Think about banking. Digital-only services are often cheaper and more convenient. But when something goes seriously wrong, the possibility of speaking with a knowledgeable human being suddenly becomes incredibly valuable. Sometimes we are willing to pay more simply because we know that someone will answer the telephone. I believe hospitality may develop a similar distinction.

Alongside star classifications, amenities, and review scores, we may eventually evaluate hotels according to their human-to-machine ratio, because when everything can be automated, choosing not to automate becomes a statement of luxury.

We may eventually evaluate hotels according to their human-to-machine ratio, because when everything can be automated, choosing not to automate becomes a statement of luxury.

There is also an interesting ethical dimension. An anthropocentric hotel could differentiate itself not only through exceptional service, but through an explicit commitment to preserving meaningful human employment and interaction. Of course, this only makes sense if human labour is fairly compensated and working conditions are appropriate. Employing people is not automatically an ethical achievement. But it opens an interesting possibility. Perhaps, in the future, we will ask hotels not only what technologies they use, but also which technologies they have consciously decided not to use.

Perhaps, in the future, we will ask hotels not only what technologies they use, but also which technologies they have consciously decided not to use.

The Reverse Uncanny Valley: when humans become too robotic

Most people working in technology are familiar with the Uncanny Valley, a concept introduced by Japanese roboticist Masahiro Mori. It describes the discomfort we may experience when an artificial entity becomes almost human, but not quite. Think about WALL-E or Johnny 5. They are obviously machines, and that is precisely why we find them charming. We recognise their artificial nature, and we are perfectly comfortable with it. The problem begins when machines approach human realism without achieving it convincingly.

But I have been exploring a complementary phenomenon that I call the Reverse Uncanny Valley. What happens when the problem is reversed? What happens when humans start behaving too much like machines? Imagine a typical hotel check-in. You approach the reception desk, and the employee barely looks at you. "Passport, please. Credit card. Breakfast from 7 to 10. Elevator on the right. Next." Technically, everything is correct. The procedure has been followed. The information has been delivered. The interaction may even have been exceptionally efficient. And yet, something feels wrong. You have just interacted with a human being who behaved like an automated interface. Paradoxically, I find that more uncomfortable than interacting with an actual machine. When we encounter another human being, we expect at least the possibility of recognition, reciprocity, and emotional connection. When that expectation is disappointed, the experience can feel strangely artificial, and uncanny. This is why retaining human employees is only a starting point. A hotel can employ hundreds of people and still deliver impersonal hospitality. Human presence and human connection are not the same thing.

A hotel can employ hundreds of people and still deliver impersonal hospitality. Human presence and human connection are not the same thing.

Which brings me to another rather unexpected reference.

Jacques Lacan and the art of being a baby in a hotel lobby

One of the stranger connections I have made in recent years is between hospitality and the psychoanalytic work of Jacques Lacan. Lacan's theory of the mirror stage explores how a child develops a sense of self through identification with an image of bodily unity. It is a complex theory, and I am certainly taking some interpretive liberties here. As infants, our needs are answered by others. We cry; mommy comes. We are hungry; daddy feeds us. We are uncomfortable; someone tries to make us comfortable. We do not understand the complicated systems of care, responsibility, and labour that make all of this possible. We simply experience the world responding to our needs.

I believe that exceptional hospitality works in a surprisingly similar way. You enter a hotel, and someone notices something you need before you even ask. Perhaps you wear glasses, and a staff member leaves a cleaning cloth in your room (right, Alan Young?). Perhaps someone remembers how you take your coffee. Or a concierge notices that you are exhausted and quietly simplifies your arrival. For a brief moment, the world seems organised around your needs. Someone has made you feel like the centre of the universe. Good hospitality is about being a little baby in a lobby. It may sound ridiculous, but I think it captures something essential about the emotional experience of hospitality. Exceptional service temporarily suspends everyday friction. Someone else notices, cares, and takes responsibility. And, crucially, we experience that care as coming from another person. A machine may eventually reproduce many of the observable behaviours associated with this experience, but whether we experience machine-generated responsiveness in the same way as human care is a very different question.

Exceptional service temporarily suspends everyday friction. Someone else notices, cares, and takes responsibility.

From Promethean shame to Promethean pride

In the 20th century, philosopher Günther Anders developed the concept of Promethean shame. Broadly speaking, it describes a sense of human inadequacy in the face of the extraordinary technological systems we ourselves have created. We become impressed, even intimidated, by our machines. They are faster, more consistent, and capable of processing information on a scale no individual human can match. Eventually, we begin measuring our own value against their performance. And because machines are better at certain activities, we conclude that human beings must become more machine-like to remain competitive. To put it with David Poprawka 's words: we evaluate humans using technology KPIs and technology using human KPIs.

[Machines] are faster, more consistent, and capable of processing information on a scale no individual human can match. Eventually, we begin measuring our own value against their performance. And because machines are better at certain activities, we conclude that human beings must become more machine-like to remain competitive.

But why? Why should technological superiority in one dimension imply human inferiority in every other? I use artificial intelligence extensively. I have dozens of AI agents working on tasks that would previously have required significant human time, and I believe these technologies can create extraordinary value. But I see no reason why we should feel ashamed of being less efficient than the machines we build.

We evaluate humans using technology KPIs and technology using human KPIs.

In fact, I would propose the opposite attitude. Call it Promethean pride: the recognition that we can create extraordinarily powerful technologies without reducing our own worth to their performance metrics. We can admire what machines do better than us while continuing to value what makes human experience meaningful. And some activities may deserve to remain human even when automation becomes technically possible. What can be automated and what should be automated are two different lists, and knowing the difference is what I call technological maturity.

What can be automated and what should be automated are two different lists, and knowing the difference is what I call technological maturity.

The future will be high tech by necessity, and human by choice

Let me return to the original paradox. We are facing genuine labour shortages. Operating costs remain under pressure. Travel demand continues to evolve. Artificial intelligence and robotics are becoming increasingly capable. For many hospitality businesses, automation will be an operational necessity. I accept that. But necessity still leaves room for choice. Which interactions should we automate? Which should remain human? What kind of hospitality experience do we actually want to create? Some hotels will embrace fully automated experiences. Others will combine technology with selective human interaction. And some may deliberately position human presence as their defining luxury. All three models can coexist.

Some hotels will embrace fully automated experiences. Others will combine technology with selective human interaction. And some may deliberately position human presence as their defining luxury. All three models can coexist.

What matters is that we recognise them as choices rather than treating technological evolution as some supposedly inevitable path toward removing people. The hotel of the future will be the one that best understands where technology creates value and where it risks destroying something more important.

The hotel of the future will be the one that best understands where technology creates value and where it risks destroying something more important.

The ancient Romans understood something significant when they placed the host and the guest within the same linguistic relationship. The Greeks went further, treating hospitality as a sacred obligation toward the stranger. Thousands of years later, surrounded by technologies those civilisations could never have imagined, we are still confronting essentially the same question: what do we owe to the person standing on the other side of the door? My answer is that we should become sophisticated enough in our use of technology to know when to put it aside.

We should become sophisticated enough in our use of technology to know when to put it aside.

A very "Humans-as-Luxury" ending

After a full day discussing artificial intelligence, the future of human interaction, and the challenges of explaining hospitality to extraterrestrial hotel investors (more info soon...), there was only one sensible way to end it all: the Infor party. But what happens in Copenhagen, stays in Copenhagen...

A big thank you Alan, David, Jessie (Galleano) Cano , Tamara Zijlstra, Christophe Rigault, Katharina Jiménez Weese, Joe Vargas , Douglas Young-Koontz, Myra Marlow, and everyone who joined the conversation in Copenhagen. It was a pleasure to share these ideas with an audience that understands the potential of technology while remaining curious about the human questions behind it.

The concepts discussed in this article are explored further in the Humans-as-Luxury research paper and related publications on ROBONOMICS: The Journal of the Automated Economy : https://humansasluxury.com/