Дэвид Дрога: модель холдинговых агентств устарела, а креативность остается востребованной

He traded 25 per cent of an agency for a rug, ran a $20 billion company without a university degree, and bought the domain names Droga1 through Droga6 purely to spite his brothers. Now, in his 40th year since being named the top AWARD School student, advertising’s most decorated creative is “not in the centre — by choice”. The industry should still be listening very carefully. David Droga doesn’t do many rooms in person anymore. So when the Accenture vice chair — the kid from AWARD School’s class of ’87 who became the most-awarded creative in the history of the business — took the stage in front of a packed AWARD crowd for an on-stage conversation, the room leaned in. What it got was part masterclass, part State of the Union, and part demolition job on the holding company model. “The holding companies are in a waiting game over whose iceberg melts first,” Droga said. “Traditional agencies might be in crisis. Creativity is not.” The Broken Model And The Unbroken Idea From there, Droga drew the distinction that framed the whole session: the industry isn’t over — that model of the industry is over. “I don’t think the world needs new agencies as in the past,” he said. “The business model of the industry is broken, or changed. But the necessity of the role we play — the creative thinker — is more in demand and more needed now.” His diagnosis of the holding companies was surgical. They make their money on media, he argued, and they’re giving the creative away to win accounts — “immediately telling clients creative isn’t worth paying for” — while tech companies spend millions working out how to disrupt the media supply chain they depend on. “When that happens, it’s going to take the core out of these holding companies.” The timing was pointed. WPP had days earlier declared itself in the “post-holding-company era,” describing a single operating model “powered by media, data and agentic AI”. The room was invited to spot the missing word. But Droga’s bull case for what survives was equally clear: there will always need to be a layer between the platforms — who hold all the power — and the brands. “Clients know the platforms don’t have their best interests at heart. There needs to be someone who understands consumers, understands strategy, has taste, and is beholden to the client and the consumer. That is always going to be needed. It’s just a question of what it looks like.” What it won’t look like, he said, is 850 people in a New York office — the scale Droga5 reached before the Accenture acquisition. The new independents he advises in the US don’t need that headcount to have that influence. They need seats across the C-suite, compensation tied to outcomes rather than effort, and relationships that touch more than the marketing line. “People are nostalgic. Success is not. We’ve got to stop being nostalgic for the things that got us to where we are.” The Most Devastating Sentence Of The Afternoon Droga spent his Accenture Song years inside the boardrooms of Fortune 500 companies, and came back with an observation that should sting every agency in the country. “They are greater advocates of creative people than our own industry is now. Just think about that. That is devastating and shocking — that they realise the value of creative thinkers and strategy and taste, and they’re trying to collect them, more than our industry itself, which is playing an arms-race game chasing media, coupons and discount fees.” His answer is structural, not rhetorical. Only three to four per cent of American board directors have any creative, design or product background — absurd, he noted, for companies selling creative products. So his final act at Song was building the on-ramps: a partnership with Fast Company, and work with Harvard Business School to create a business track designed to land creative people on boards and in C-suites. “I don’t want creatives running a department. I want them running the companies. Not every creative — some are better off left in the sandpit with mittens on. But there are creatives who would be awesome CEOs and chief strategy officers, and they’re either not given the opportunity, or they’re intimidated out of having the aspiration.” He’s living proof of the counterargument. “I didn’t go to college. I wasn’t the business mind. But creativity is doing more with what you inherit. If you take that philosophy as a business leader, not just an ideator, you can ideate a business into being more than it could be. If I can run a $20 billion company with high margins, anyone can.” A beat. “Not anyone.” Song grew from $12 billion to $20 billion in four years — not just by moving toward outcome-based compensation, he said, but by expanding into commerce, customer service and digital products as the marketing pie shrank. The Rug The self-belief has a paper trail. At 25, Droga held 25 per cent of OMON when it was acquired by Clemenger. To get his money, he had to wait out the typical three year earn out. Meanwhile, Saatchi & Saatchi came calling with a job in Asia. “I said, f*** that. I remember standing in the office, pointing at the floor, and saying: I’ll give you my 25 per cent of the agency — for that rug. And I took the rug and walked out.” Years later he walked again, from the worldwide chief creative officer role at Publicis — and the equity that comes with it — to start Droga5. “I would rather find a socio-economic level for my own company, making work I believe in with people I believe in, than fly first class not making work I believe in with people I don’t want to work with.” The engine, he insists, is not blind optimism. “My bravado is: I f***ing believe it’s going to be great. My insecurity makes me work my arse off to make sure I’m right.” On AI: When Everything Is Best Practice, Nothing Is Droga’s take on AI is neither doomer nor booster, and it turns on a single line he kept returning to. “Everyone’s caught up in the party trick — I can do what’s mediocre, faster and cheaper. Everything looks the same. Very soon we’ll realise nothing is different. When everything is best practice, nothing is.” Most creativity, he argued, isn’t creative and isn’t good — most advertising, most music, most journalism, most architecture is mediocre, produced by something far more terrifying than a machine: compromise and research. If AI does a better version of that, knock yourself out. “If you raise the floor, you also raise the ceiling. But the very top of everything — the irrational, illogical, emotional, context-based — that’s where the magic happens. That’s what we bring.” The real danger, in his telling, is a technology built entirely around certainty and predictability. “Everything great about humans is our flaws and our bugs. Our misinterpretations, our heartbreak, our audacity, our irreverence — all that quirky s*** that makes us who we are. When you harness that instead of burying it, we’re a powerful commodity.” His advice to students followed the same logic: “Students shouldn’t be thinking about how to break into the industry. They should be thinking about how to break the industry.” Think, he said, like Netflix — which didn’t try to fix the video store, it built an entirely new system. “People are busy trying to restore the industry as it was. Stop restoring. Start rebuilding.” Caring Is Out Of Scope For a session heavy on structural critique, the most quotable line was about something smaller: effort. “Caring is out of scope — but I cared anyway. Everything else can be in scope, and clients will go through it with a fine-tooth comb. Whether you give a s*** is not in the scope. But the good people do.” His hiring philosophy runs the same way. Forget the diplomas: “If I want a surgeon or a pilot, I want classic training. But if I want someone who understands people, who can move people and create things with meaning — I’m more interested in character traits. Curiosity, interest in culture, work ethic.” And forget the echo chamber: “If I have a room where 20 people agree, I don’t need 19 of you.” The 40th Year, The Six Startups, And Droga6 Next year marks 40 years since Droga won AWARD School as an 18-year-old FCB mailroom kid — a number he reportedly did not want mentioned, and which was mentioned anyway. His verdict on the course remains unqualified: it’s taught by people working in the business today, on real-time problems, which beats being taught a system adhered to in past decades. His one suggestion — open it up beyond agencies, because the creative companies of the future won’t all be agencies. The American press, meanwhile, has coined “the six startups” for the wave of independent agencies founded by Droga5 alumni in the past few years. “It makes me very proud,” he said. “It also ages me.” He advises several of them — on outcome-based compensation, on diversifying beyond disposable marketing, on not walking in the door giving away ideas. Which brings us to the name. Droga — the fifth son among six children, whose mother sewed “Droga 5” laundry tags into his clothes at boarding school — bought the domains Droga1 through Droga6 when he founded the agency, so his brothers could never use them. “I told them, if they piss me off, I’ll launch a porn site on one of them.” Asked what he’s proudest of across the four decades, he skipped the work entirely. “I think I’m the same person today as when I started — greyer and balder, but the same belief system. And the community of people I’ve worked with, who are doing so well everywhere. I can’t take credit for their success. But I feel great that I contributed to not ruining their talents.” Would he do it all again? “One hundred per cent. I found something where being creative within the constraints of business is the most exhilarating problem-solving there is. No one doesn’t need better communication, more taste, more ambition.” “Vice chair” and “not in the centre” are, on this evidence, technicalities. One bet looks safe — the footnote to David Droga’s 40th year won’t read “no longer in the centre”. As the man himself put it on his way off stage: “I’m just a squirrel trying to get a nut”.