Ad Astra: For Alexander Schill, the Truth Is all There Is

Alexander Schill “doesn’t live for advertising.” But he sure does live. 

In fact, Serviceplan Group’s global CCO has lived a couple of different lives. The first of which was a quiet, understated childhood in which he spent most of his available hours in his own head. “I was a loner – I spent a lot of time in my room playing guitar, making art, and getting lost in my thoughts and fantasies,” he recalls. “I made up stories in my head and was far more focused on my inner world than on socialising. It couldn’t be more different than I am today.” 

It can be hard, Alexander confesses, for him to reconcile the people he used to be with the person he now is. And yet the links are there – latent, dormant – but an undeniable connection between a loner student and an outgoing, gregarious global CCO orchestrating stories for the world’s biggest brands. Throughout his time with Serviceplan (which is now approaching two decades), he’s picked up a mind-boggling 90 Cannes Lions and 82 One Show Pencils – and as a result, it’s hard to know where to start when it comes to his work. As for his career, however, there’s a clear pivotal moment from which everything else stems: Packing up an old Volkswagen Beetle in the early 90s, in order to make the move from the German suburbs to Berlin. 

“That moment marked the beginning of a big shift for me,” he says. “It was the gateway between my childhood and being part of something bigger, a broader social environment. It was a point of no return.” 

As per Alexander’s recollection, there was nowhere like Berlin in the 1990s; not even modern Berlin. “I don’t think anything can compare culturally to the time just after the wall came down”, he explains. “It was a time of no rules, limitless possibilities, and a magnetic pull for people from all over the world. Berlin was being reinvented in those days – techno music was everywhere, clubs were opening, and the city was electric. You’d go out at night and come back home asking, ‘what did I just experience?!’”

For a young suburban kid, the city’s energy was a kind of cultural tractor beam: There was no escape (“the energy of the city pulled me in,” as he describes it). The previous Alexander, the one living a solitary life of quiet curiosity and calm, had envisioned a respectable and bucolic future as a doctor. But Berlin unlocked something that had always been there – traits that would come to define his career and, beyond that, himself. 

It was a life with more of an edge, more creativity, more spontaneity, and more exuberance. “It was a place and a time where you’d see people walking naked down the street and think nothing of it. That’s Berlin – acceptance without judgement.”

Did he ever walk naked along one of those 90s Berlin streets? “Not naked, no,” he protests, “but I’d wear some outfits the younger me would never even have dreamed of. And we can leave it there!” 

Words on a Wing 

Amidst the self-expression and personal reinvention of that time, the groundwork was also being laid for Alexander’s career in the creative world. His entryway into advertising was through copywriting, or, as he puts it more simply, “words.” 

“It’s true that I started as a copywriter – but funnily enough, it was a big transition for me. Growing up, I wasn’t particularly into writing, but as a copywriter, I experienced the power of words first-hand. It fascinated me – and still does,” he says. “Simple words can make people laugh, cry, love, or hate. It’s just letters arranged to form words, then sentences, and eventually meaning.” 

At first glance, there’s something quaint and romantic about that kind of regard for the written word. It feels retro, like a celebration of the most fundamental building blocks of creativity. But, for Alexander, his love for words is something entirely different: It’s utilitarian, and fundamentally modern. “Words are more powerful today than they’ve ever been before -- you can see that in the way they entrance people and inspire such powerful emotions,” he says. “Take two politicians and compare the way they use words. Sometimes they can unite, sometimes they divide – the same words, in different formulations.”

As far as advertising is concerned, words are a similarly immense power to be wielded. “Advertising wasn’t initially my passion, but I saw it as a way to make words heard,” says Alexander. “Today, with social media, even a junior creative can craft a post that goes viral and impacts millions. That’s exciting –  and if I were a junior creative again today, that would be something that pulled me into the industry. It’s not about the industry itself – it’s the potential of words to move people.” 

Crucially, that power can only be unlocked by brands when they're communicating something that’s true on a fundamental level. “Brands need to find and stick to their truths,” he says. “They mustn’t just jump on a trend because it’s popular. People connect with truth, not fabricated or forced messaging. Advertising only works when it’s rooted in something real.” 

To remind himself of this point, there’s a song Alexander keeps coming back to. “You can’t hide from the truth,” sings Róisín Murphy on Handsome Boy Modelling School’s ‘The Truth’, “because the truth is all there is.” 

It’s a neat summation of Alexander’s own relationship with the truth – in life or in advertising. There’s no use in running from it, or trying to shield, smother, or contort it. It’s something that needs to be embraced, for better or for worse. 

Becoming Life’s Lighthouse

“I never aimed to be a leader,” notes Alexander, reflecting on his journey to becoming a chief creative officer. “I didn’t follow a specific ‘10 steps to leadership’ approach or anything like that. But one principle that I have always held is that to be a good leader, you need to be honest. That’s a fundamental prerequisite.”

Through honesty, Alexander arrives at consistency. “Whether I’m drunk, focused, or woken up in the middle of the night, I like to think you’ll always get the same answer from me,” he says. “Consistency makes leadership easier, because people trust you when you’re honest and authentic. It’s about being a lighthouse – maintaining a clear signal, especially when things get stormy.” 

Coupled with that consistency is an understanding of what motivates people – especially the creatively-inclined. It’s something intrinsic – a deep-wired urge to arrive at the finish line in a winning position. That’s a quality he’s recently recognised in himself away from the office and away from work – specifically, whilst racing motorcycles. 

“That’s something my wife wishes I’d do less,” he ruefully concedes. “I’ve never deeply analysed why I enjoy it, but I do know that it brings me immense joy. There’s a moment at the starting line where a switch flips in my brain. I’m fully focused on winning.”

On one occasion, the CCO set up a camera pointed at himself from the front of his handlebars during a race. “Because it’s such an out-of-body experience, I was interested to look back at my emotions,” he says. “I was struck by how genuinely happy I looked. It was one of those rare experiences where I’m completely in the moment, free from distractions.”

That mindset is an effective replica, he goes on to explain, of his mental state when encountering a creative brief. “Both scenarios demand complete focus and problem-solving under pressure. For instance, racing on a beach means adapting to unpredictable sand conditions, imagining what lies ahead, and figuring out the best path forward. Similarly, in a pitch or creative process, I don’t just want to participate – I want to win.”

Competition, conviction, and consistency – three ingredients that Alexander considers to be shared by great leaders and work for great brands. But all this talk of ‘truth’, in leadership and in advertising, is taking us dangerously close to one of the modern industry’s most dominant buzzwords: Authenticity. 

When I put that word to Alexander, and ask whether it’s becoming overused, he tells me that he doesn’t really care. “Maybe it’s overused, but it’s essential. The nature of advertising has evolved,” he explains. “It used to be about brands speaking from a stage to an audience. Today, it’s about being part of the audience’s world – engaging on an eye level. Modern consumers don’t want to be passive recipients of a message; they want authenticity and alignment with their values.”

Going further than that, Alexander believes that even the term ‘audience’ feels outdated. “It suggests a passive, anonymous group,” he suggests. “And that simply doesn’t reflect how people see themselves today. I might enjoy being part of an audience for a show I’ve chosen to attend, but when it comes to marketing, being lumped into an anonymous group of one million feels disconnected. People today see themselves as individuals, with unique perspectives and desires.” 

For Alexander, it’s beholden on creatives to market to people as individuals, “rather than monolithic groups.” And that’s a deep, cultural trend which Alexander has seen develop during his time with Serviceplan. “People are more critical and demand honesty from brands”, he posits. “Consumers are more informed and value sustainability, transparency, and quality. They don’t want brands dictating what’s good for them. Treating people as participants rather than an audience fosters trust and, yes, authenticity.”

That gets to a fundamental paradox at the heart of modern creativity, marketing, and media, as Alexander sees it. That, on one hand, the business is complex and full of layers – but on the other, it’s enticingly simple. To borrow a phrase, it’s simply that the truth is all there is. 

No Guests In Life 

But then, Alexander is no stranger to paradox. After all, this is someone who, thirty-ish years ago, underwent a metamorphosis from a bookish, shy, passive teenager to a riotious, clubby, inspired, and experimental creative. Those are two different people who cohabit within him. 

Going back to those days in Berlin, he recalls opening up a nightclub of his own alongside a few friends. Based in a repurposed slaughterhouse, formerly named ‘SCHULZ UND SÖHNE’, Alexander suggested a subtle two-letter rebrand to ‘SCHULD UND SÜHNE’. It’s the German translation of 'Crime and Punishment'. That’s Dostoevsky’s seminal novel exploring guilt, aspiration, and an impoverished ex-student’s desperate and doomed attempt to escape from the truth. For poor Rodion Raskolnikov in Dostoevsky’s fictional version of Saint Petersburg, there’s a similar epiphany as there was for Alexander Schill in real-world Berlin: The truth, inescapably, is all there is. 

But, happily, the similarities end there. The truth for Rodion was a prison, trapping him in anguish and paranoia. For Alexander, it’s a liberation, the freedom to know yourself and live life as an individual in the way that only you can. 

“I’ve never wanted to be a guest in life”, he surmises. And he isn’t. In fact Alexander has made himself very much at home.