Disruptors

The way “disruptor”, as a buzzword or business approach, is used in the film Glass Onion isn’t admiration. It’s satire. It’s a label worn like a badge by someone who wants to be seen as visionary, while mostly rearranging existing ideas and calling it revolution. The joke works because we recognise the type.

In the film, the character Miles talks about “disruption” as though it’s a moral quality. As if breaking things is automatically brave. As if scale equals substance. But the story slowly exposes what that kind of self-declared disruption really looks like: borrowed ideas, shallow thinking, and a lot of distracting noise.

That word has aged badly.

Once, disruption meant something specific. It described a shift in markets or models that genuinely redefined how something worked. Now it’s a shortcut. A way of bypassing scrutiny. Call it disruption and you don’t have to explain the detail. You don’t have to show the evidence. You don’t have to admit you’re iterating on someone else’s groundwork.

In higher education, we’ve seen this before. MOOCs were “disruption.” Microcredentials were “disruption.” AI is now “disruption.” Most of it isn’t. It’s adaptation. It’s evolution. It’s the slow, practical work of integrating new tools into old infrastructure that still have to meet regulatory, pedagogical, and human realities.

Calling something disruptive doesn’t make it transformative. Often it just makes it loud or craves attention.

There’s also something uncomfortable about the narrative attached to “disruptors” in the film. It centres the individual; the maverick, the billionaire, the founder. It rarely credits the teams doing the actual design, governance, and implementation work. The people who make sure the “disruption” doesn’t collapse under its own ego.

Real change usually looks boring. It looks like consultation. Policy revision. Risk assessment. Pilot phases. Staff development. Student feedback loops. It doesn’t photograph well. It doesn’t trend. But it lasts.

The rush to label yourself a disruptor often masks something else: impatience. Or worse, opportunism. A get-rich-quick posture dressed up as innovation. The bandwagon is easier to board if you can convince others the wheels are revolutionary.

The irony, of course, is that genuine transformation doesn’t need to shout. It shows up in outcomes. In sustainability. In trust.

Maybe the better question isn’t “who’s disrupting?” It’s “who’s building something that still works five years from now?” That’s probably less cinematic. But it’s a lot harder to fake.

• This post is Day 99 of my #100DaysToOffload challenge. Want to get involved? Find out more at 100DaysToOffload.com

Photo by Marina Juli on Unsplash