Chang Ching-Jui's Perspective: Full of Wild Ideas, But None Achievable? — The Workplace Visionary

A former acting president of National Taiwan University, who taught physics for 30 years, uses the underlying logic of many-body physics to analyze workplace absurdities and dilemmas. The 'visionary' is likened to a 'virtual particle,' and managing them requires measurement, not just listening.

Workplace Golden Rule of This Article: The secret to managing visionaries isn’t just listening with your ears—it’s measuring with a ruler.

After explaining the physics of flattery as resonance and boasting as something else, I didn’t expect someone to raise their hand again and ask an even trickier question:

"Then there’s another kind of person. They don’t boast or flatter. They’re enthusiastic, full of ideas, but almost nothing gets done. What’s the physics behind this type?"

The entire audience burst into laughter, and many nodded in agreement.

I thought for a moment and immediately replied: virtual particle.

People don’t like this kind of person—but also find it hard to dislike them.

In every organization, there’s someone who always has many ideas. Today it’s artificial intelligence, tomorrow it’s space, the day after they want to change the company’s business model. But when you ask how, they never have an answer. When you ask when it will be done, they can’t say.

In most organizations, such people are usually called workplace visionaries—or more bluntly, 'crazy people.' This type of constant idea-generator differs from the chronic boaster who inevitably fails and never delivers. Boasters make people angry because they often 'exaggerate and lie.' Visionaries don’t, because they genuinely believe their ideas will work. They have no ill intent or calculation—just enthusiasm to help.

But the result is the same: nothing actually gets done.

In meetings, they’re always the first to speak, ideas pouring out one after another. "We should adopt AI." "Quantum technology is the future." "Our organizational structure needs to be flipped." "I have a disruptive marketing strategy."

The ideas sound visionary, but when you probe deeper: Where will the money come from? Who will execute it? What’s your implementation strategy? What can we do right now?

They respond: "Let’s first discuss the big picture. We’ll figure out execution details later."

They’re not dodging—they genuinely don’t know. They fail to realize that turning an idea into reality requires more than passion; it needs resources, networks, and a path.

Colleagues’ attitudes toward them are usually contradictory:

They like them—because they’re lively, positive, and don’t mind details.

But they’re also annoyed—because they constantly create the 'next step' but never take responsibility for 'this step.'

Managers’ attitudes are even more conflicted:

They don’t want to crush their enthusiasm—because organizations need these 'talkative' people.

But they can’t rely on them—because they almost never produce concrete results.

But here’s the question: Are workplace visionaries truly worthless?

First, the physics: Are visionaries like 'virtual particles'?

In quantum field theory, vacuum isn’t empty—it’s filled with random fluctuations. Among them, 'virtual particles' briefly appear and quickly vanish. These particles have energy and momentum but can’t be directly observed as free-standing particles. They’re used to describe internal processes in quantum theory and still relate to observable physical effects.

Physicists call them 'virtual particles.'

Their characteristics are clear:

They have energy but no real mass—like someone full of passion but lacking the resources to turn it into output.

They depend on external energy to exist—once external energy supply stops (e.g., a manager stops listening), they vanish instantly.

They can’t be directly observed—we can only see the faint traces they leave behind, like many ideas that never become reality, only disturbing employee emotions.

'Real particles': Plans with resources, manpower, and execution paths. They satisfy the organization’s 'mass-energy conservation'—energy (budget) and mass (manpower) match, allowing long-term operation.

'Virtual particles': Though accompanied by energy and momentum fluctuations, they don’t meet the physical conditions of real particles. They can’t exist stably alone or transform into tangible outcomes. In organizations, they keep emerging from 'vacuum,' appearing active but actually producing nothing concrete.

This is the physical image of the 'visionary.'

Conditions for Virtual Particles to Survive in Organizations

Virtual particles can survive in organizations under several conditions:

First, the 'vacuum' within the organization must be large enough.

If management structure is loose, goals unclear, and no regular review mechanisms exist, virtual particles have enough space to keep emerging. Without 'boundary conditions' or strict KPIs, they can freely fluctuate in the 'vacuum.'

Second, managers must be willing to provide 'energy.'

Virtual particles depend on external energy input. Every time a manager patiently listens to a new idea, it’s like injecting energy into the vacuum, allowing the particle to survive a little longer.

Third, the organization lacks an 'observation mechanism.'

If no one demands an execution plan, checks KPIs, or follows up on progress, the virtual particle won’t collapse.

Here’s the key: Virtual particles aren’t frauds or bad people. But the most effective way to manage them isn’t 'listening in'—it’s 'measuring down.'

Effective Management of Virtual Particles

First, set boundary conditions.

When they propose a new idea, don’t say 'this won’t work'—that crushes their enthusiasm. Don’t say 'great, let’s try it'—that wastes organizational resources.

Say:

"This idea is interesting. Please submit an execution plan by next Monday, including: budget requirements, staffing, and specific action steps for the first two weeks. If the plan is feasible, we’ll launch it."

This action is called 'observation' in physics.

Virtual particles can only exist in a vacuum. Once you set boundary conditions—budget, staffing, time—they lose their environment. They either collapse into a real particle (they actually write a feasible plan) or disappear (they say, 'Oh… so detailed? I’ll think more,' and never follow up). But usually, after observation, they disappear—rarely producing real results.

Second, never provide 'free energy.'

The activity of virtual particles comes from how much time managers spend listening. If you always patiently listen, they’ll be motivated to generate more virtual particles.

Be polite, but shorten interactions. When they start drifting into abstract arguments, interrupt:

"Sounds good. Can you write it into a two-page proposal and put it on my desk tomorrow? I’ll read it carefully."

Third, extract value during 'decay.'

The positive effect of virtual particles is that 'they occasionally offer inspiration.'

Among their ten abstract ideas, one might touch the edge of a real problem. You can absorb only that real part, not the entire fantasy.

For example, if they say, 'We should adopt AI,' what you should hear isn’t 'adopt AI,' but 'they’ve noticed customer replies are too slow.' Address only 'slow replies,' ignore the 'AI' part, and customer satisfaction might still improve.

This is the value of virtual particles: they don’t produce output themselves, but they might release an observable signal.

Besides using 'observation' to collapse abstract ideas, resource-holding managers have a higher-level method: triggering 'phase transition.'

Why do visionary-type subordinates fail to ground their ideas? Often because the organization lacks a 'condensation nucleus'—like in physics, supersaturated vapor condenses into droplets only when attached to a tiny particle. In organizations, 'execution-type talent' is the real particle that solidifies passion into plans.

When you find a visionary idea potentially valuable and beneficial to the company, assign an 'extremely execution-capable (real particle)' colleague to discuss it. This real particle is the system’s 'condensation nucleus.' When passion meets solid structure, the idea may undergo 'phase transition' and condense into a real plan.

In practice, managers must never just force the two into a 'project'—that becomes a disaster for the executor. The key is structured role division: let the visionary handle only 'early ideation and scenario exploration,' and clearly stipulate that once the project enters the 'scoping and roadmap' phase, leadership and veto power must fully transfer to the execution-type talent. The executor, like the 'nucleus' in crystallization, cools and pulls out a concrete skeleton from the drifting gas; the visionary steps back to advisory, offering side ideas only when stuck. This protects the executor’s energy and truly enables phase transition.

Managers shouldn’t just be noise-canceling observers—they must become physical catalysts that induce phase transition.

For example, a visionary proposes to a manager: 'Our company should immediately fully adopt AI customer support!'

The manager should respond: 'Please provide a one-page briefing by next Monday, assessing budget and the first-phase trial team.' And simultaneously introduce a condensation nucleus: 'I’ll have engineer Zhang discuss system integration possibilities with you these two days, and Zhang will decide the scope of the first phase.'

Whether it collapses and disappears or undergoes phase transition, either outcome benefits the organization.