Advertising isn’t weak. It’s obedient. And now it’s proud of it

The campaign is on the screen.

Big screen. Clean deck. Sharp typography. The kind of visual hygiene that tells you, immediately, that nothing dangerous is about to happen. Heads nod. Not with conviction. With relief.

Someone says, “It’s solid.” Someone else says, “Very on-brand.” Legal stays quiet. That’s the real approval.

Campaign of the year.

No one asks if it will be remembered. No one asks if it will still hold when the pressure hits, when the brand is challenged, when the context shifts, or when things stop being polite.

There was a time when bad campaigns had a place. Advertising has never been pure. Anyone who pretends otherwise is lying.

But there was a rule.

You did those campaigns. You invoiced them. And then you hid them.

They didn’t go into reels. They didn’t go into portfolios. You didn’t celebrate them.

My mentor, creative director and a New England advertising legend, Dick Pantano, had a name for that kind of work. He called it “De Luxe Pizza”. It looked good. Warm. Familiar. But you knew what it was made of: cheap ingredients, safe recipes, zero risk. You ate it because you were hungry, not because you were proud.

That rule is gone.

Today, those same campaigns are framed, posted, and awarded. Work designed to avoid risk, avoid tension, and avoid memory is now presented as intelligence.

Agencies call this strategy. Brands call it alignment. In reality, its obedience is polished until it looks like maturity.

Agencies don’t just deliver this work; they showcase it. Creatives don’t just make it; they put it in their reels. Brands don’t just approve it; they point to it as proof that they’re being responsible.

This is the real shift.

Advertising isn’t weak. It’s obedient. And now it’s proud of being obedient.

Proud of passing approvals. Proud of offending no one. Proud of work that survives decks but collapses under pressure.

Because when real pressure arrives – political, cultural, or economic – this work disappears instantly. It gets reframed. Softened. Deleted. Everyone takes one step back and says the same sentence in different ways:

“That wasn’t really what we meant.”

Of course it wasn’t. De Luxe Pizza is not made to be defended. It’s made to pass inspection.

This isn’t a creativity problem. It’s not a talent problem.

It’s a pride collapse.

An industry can survive bad advertising. It cannot survive when it starts celebrating work it knows is hollow.

So, here’s the only question that still matters, and it doesn’t belong in a deck:

What’s the last piece of advertising you made that you would still stand behind if it stopped being convenient, if it cost the brand something real, and cost you something too?

If the answer is silence, don’t take it personally.

Silence is no longer a side effect. It’s the model.

And yes, the pizza still looks great.

(Ercole Egizi is a Global Brand Transformation Leader with over 15 years of experience helping international brands and agencies navigate growth, repositioning, and digital reinvention. Connect with him on LinkedIn.)