Think Different, Act the Same
On January 22, 1984, Apple, then doing business as Apple Computer, Inc., aired a commercial that would become one of the most iconic advertisements in history. Directed by Ridley Scott, the ad evoked a dystopian world, its industrial setting painted in oppressive blue and gray tones. A line of people, indistinguishable from one another, marched in unison through a long tunnel monitored by telescreens—a direct nod to George Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four. The imagery was stark: uniformity, obedience, and an absence of independent thought. The people sat in rows, their gazes locked onto a leader delivering a speech:
"Today we celebrate the first glorious anniversary of the Information Purification Directives. We have created for the first time in all history a garden of pure ideology, where each worker may bloom, secure from the pests of any contradictory true thoughts. Our Unification of Thoughts is more powerful a weapon than any fleet or army on earth. We are one people, with one will, one resolve, one cause. Our enemies shall talk themselves to death, and we will bury them with their own confusion. We shall prevail!"
Then, a disruption. A lone woman, clad in bright colors, sprinted through the tunnel, pursued by security guards. She hurled a sledgehammer into the telescreen, shattering the illusion. The voice-over concluded: "On January 24th, Apple Computer will introduce Macintosh. And you'll see why 1984 won't be like 1984."
The message was clear: Apple was the rebel, the disruptor, the company challenging conformity and authoritarianism.
Over a decade later, in 1997, Apple doubled down on this identity with Crazy Ones, an advertisement directed by Jennifer Golub. The one-minute spot, narrated by Richard Dreyfuss (with an alternate version featuring Steve Jobs), showcased black-and-white footage of 17 cultural revolutionaries: Albert Einstein, Bob Dylan, Martin Luther King Jr., John Lennon, Muhammad Ali, Mahatma Gandhi, Amelia Earhart, and others. The ad closed with a young girl opening her eyes, as if awakening to possibility, while the words appeared on screen:
"Here's to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes... the ones who see things differently—they're not fond of rules... You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them, but the only thing you can’t do is ignore them because they change things... they push the human race forward, and while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius, because the ones who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world, are the ones who do."
Apple, once the underdog, championed the unconventional—the visionaries who saw the world differently. It was a rallying cry for those who refused to conform, embodied in its Think Different campaign, a tribute to those who dared to defy convention.
Fast forward to 2017, and I was clocking into my shift at the Apple Store on Fifth Avenue, New York. A 24-hour Apple Store. Another "crazy" idea that skeptics claimed would never work. But Apple, ever the contrarian, pushed ahead. By then, I was reading Walter Isaacson's Steve Jobs, immersing myself in the mind of a game-changer. I was inspired, hungry to make my own mark on the world.
Every shift began the same way: a daily meeting where we received company updates, followed by a pep talk. That day, as my manager spoke, something clicked. The words, the delivery—they felt eerily familiar. He called us the "Crazy Ones." He spoke of our greatness. "We will be great!" It echoed the leader's declaration from the 1984 ad: "We shall prevail!"
I looked around at my colleagues, hoping to meet someone’s eyes, searching for recognition, an acknowledgment of what was happening. But no one met my gaze. They were transfixed, nodding in unison. We all wore the same Apple t-shirts, standing in uniformity. Listening. Complying. No questions, no dissent.
That was the moment I realized: Apple had become the very institution it once set out to challenge. The rebel had become the establishment.
Companies grow. They evolve. And sometimes, they calcify. The agility that once made them great becomes impossible at scale. Apple was no longer the challenger; it was the status quo—the very thing I was taught to question.
Google, another former disruptor, had reportedly developed an advanced language model in the mid-2010s. But releasing it would have disrupted their core business: search. Large companies, after all, tend to spend enormous sums but take minimal risks, while smaller companies operate on tight budgets yet make bold moves. So Google hesitated. And in that hesitation, a new player—OpenAI—seized the moment.
Disruption doesn’t come from within. It comes from the new players, the ones willing to move fast and break things. The ones crazy enough to change the world.
Just like Apple once was.