The digital discipline is the practice of deciding, for every new technology a property is offered, whether it amplifies a human being's ability to be present with a guest or substitutes for that presence, and adopting, resisting or delaying it on that basis. It keeps the machine in service of the craft rather than in imitation of it.
The argument over whether to use the new tools is finished. Torsten van Dullemen, then general manager of The Landmark Mandarin Oriental in Hong Kong, put the change in one before and after: twenty years ago guests checked in, guests checked out, and the general manager focused on service; today a manager who does not understand the pace of technology cannot run a hotel. The live question, which every senior operator I know is asking more carefully than at any point in their careers, is where the tools belong, where they do not, and how the operator decides. The digital discipline is my name for the deciding.
Much of the technology is already helping. Reservations, revenue management, allergen tracking and translation have all improved the guest’s experience of the routine. The pocket concierge is the clearest case: Marc Brugger at Rosewood Beijing described an e-butler service through which guests text a real concierge from anywhere in the city, and the model has become the upper end’s standard because the technology removes the friction while a human remains the interlocutor. In the kitchen, the briefing before service is now supported by a CRM that surfaces every allergy and prior order in seconds. The tool is an input. The acknowledgment, in person, is still the service. The boundary is drawn by what the technology cannot do, and Christian A. Hassing, then general manager of Mandarin Oriental, Singapore, drew it for me more clearly than anyone.
“Never underestimate the power of a genuinely caring, curious and kind human interaction.” Christian A. Hassing, then general manager of Mandarin Oriental, Singapore
Axel Bethke named the asset most directly. The concierge has a personal network the Internet cannot mimic: the restaurant proprietor who will hold a table at midnight for this concierge’s guest. The chef’s equivalent is the fishmonger who calls when the best catch arrives. These relationships are built over years by a specific person, and a model that surfaces information cannot make the call.
The digital discipline is often confused with resistance to technology, and the operators who practice it are among the most enthusiastic adopters in the field. The test dissolves the confusion. Adopt the technology that amplifies an attentive human being’s ability to be present with another. Resist the technology that substitutes for that presence, including the generated welcome note signed in the general manager’s name, which passes for thirty seconds and fails for the next thirty. Delay the technology whose effect on the substance has not yet been honestly measured. Hassing added the paradox at the center of the discipline: when the guest is connected around the clock, going offline is the new luxury. What the discipline asks of a leader is to slow down every vendor pitch and ask what the tool replaces. If the answer is a team member’s discretion in a moment that defines the guest’s experience, the answer is no, however well the case is made.
The idea runs through Chapter 12, The Digital Discipline, which opens Part III of the book, and Chapter 14, The Future of Luxury and Craft, carries it forward into the decade ahead.