A reflection by Noorie Sazen, CEO of Saffron Interactive
Twenty-five years is a long time to spend asking one question: why do people resist learning so fiercely, and yet crave it so desperately when it matters? That paradox has kept me fascinated since Saffron Interactive first opened its doors in 2000.
Hanif’s Vision: A Pioneer at the Dawn of Digital Learning
Saffron was founded by my late husband, Hanif Sazen. He was an early entrepreneur in digital learning, a man deeply passionate about education, and convinced that technology could unlock human potential. In 1999, CD-ROMs were cutting-edge, broadband was a luxury, and mobile learning was still science fiction. Hanif looked at this clunky, dial-up world and saw a future where learning was personal, purposeful, and powerful.
His sudden passing in 2010 was a devastating loss, both personally and for the company. Stepping into the role of CEO wasn’t simply about keeping the lights on – it was about carrying forward a vision that learning could be more than compliance, more than “click next to continue.” It could actually matter.
The Great CD-ROM Delusion (And Other Misadventures)
Back then, organisations were convinced that a spinning logo and some clip art could transform mind-numbing training into blockbuster entertainment. We rode that wave –– but having a consultancy background, we knew something the industry had overlooked: people don’t resist learning because it’s boring, they resist because it feels pointless. Once you give it meaning, behaviour changes. It’s the difference between owning a sports car and remembering you need petrol to make it go.
Transforming Organisations, One Contradiction at a Time
Working with clients has been a masterclass in human contradictions.
Transport for London showed us this in the starkest terms. The people taking our programmes weren’t anonymous Londoners – they were TfL’s own frontline teams: train drivers, track workers, station and platform staff. In a traditionally macho, safety-critical environment where talking about mental health had been quietly stigmatised, something counterintuitive happened.
Inside a well-designed digital space – with structure and a little anonymity – colleagues began speaking honestly about stress and resilience. The programme didn’t just lift wellbeing scores; it helped reset the conversation so people felt permitted to ask for support.
Hilton taught us that luxury isn’t champagne and caviar – it’s the predictability of excellence, everywhere, every time.
BT showed us that scale doesn’t have to crush individuality if you design learning like jazz rather than a marching band: structured, but with room for improvisation.
Nesta and the Department for Education inspired us to pioneer AI employment coaching two years before Chat GPT was released to the public and realised our dream to make learning at the heart of social mobility.
Awards and “Participation Trophies”
The industry loves handing out trophies for “innovation” and “learner engagement.”, and other shiny metrics. Nice to have, sure. But what we really need are awards for things like “actually changed behaviour” or “didn’t waste everyone’s time.”
Our Comic Relief project on violence prevention came close to that ideal – not just recognition, but genuine social impact and a change to government policy. That’s when learning stops being corporate virtue-signalling and starts being a force for good.
People, Misfits, and Makers
Behind every breakthrough has been a team of brilliant misfits. Instructional designers who treat learning like disguised therapy, developers who look at a perfectly functional system and ask, “But what if we made it weird?” and consultants who can walk into a boardroom and politely suggest everything is upside down. Together, they’ve created a culture that thrives on productive disobedience and an almost suspicious passion for making learning matter.
The AI Revolution: Systems That Finally Understand Us
Now, with AI, we’re entering the era where technology is finally catching up with what we’ve always known about people: we’re predictably irrational. Traditional systems treated humans like broken computers. AI, at its best, treats us as brilliant biological machines that need understanding, not fixing. That shift changes everything. Suddenly, we’re not forcing people to learn – we’re designing systems that make learning feel inevitable.
Looking Forward
As I look back on this journey – from Hanif’s pioneering vision to today’s AI-powered possibilities – I’m grateful. For the man who made it happen. For clients who let us experiment on their biggest challenges. For the team who make the impossible look easy.
And for the reminder, year after year, that combining empathy with technology doesn’t just change how people learn. It changes how they grow, perform, and contribute to something larger than themselves.
So here’s to 25 years of beautiful problems, frustrating paradoxes, and the delightful realisation that in a world obsessed with artificial intelligence, the rarest resource is still genuine human understanding.
Let’s carry that into 2026…and beyond.
