On the surface, it may seem that the board game Risk and advertising have little in common. One is played across a cardboard map of continents and armies. The other unfolds across screens, billboards, and social feeds, competing for attention. Yet both rely on the same principle: Foresight. Strategy. Understanding how people think before they make their move.
“You have to anticipate,” says Peter Krivkovich, chairman and CEO of Cramer-Krasselt. “You have to be able to see around corners.”
Cramer-Krasselt, the Chicago-based agency that Krivkovich leads, is the oldest advertising agency in the United States. With more than $1 billion in annual billings and clients including Corona, Porsche, Tropicana, and Panera Bread, it remains one of the largest independent agencies in the industry. For Krivkovich, that instinct “to see around corners” began long before his 40-year career in advertising.
Born in Austria, he arrived in the United States at the age of seven without a grasp of English. “I only knew four words,” he recalls. “Yes. No. G.I. And ice cream.” Whenever a soldier walked by, he and the other children would wave, hoping the G.I. might buy them some. “We didn’t have a lot of food,” he says, “but I had a lot of ice cream.”
The journey to America came aboard an old troop ship crowded with immigrants from across Europe. Passengers rushed up the narrow metal stairs to get a glimpse of the New York skyline. Krivkovich, small enough to slip between them, pushed his way toward the rail. On the horizon, he saw a figure rising from the harbor.
“The first time I saw the Statue of Liberty,” he recalls, “I thought it was a toy soldier.”
The moment stayed with him. He realized that, in many ways, it was the country’s ultimate marketing symbol. It represented an American ideal before he even had the words to understand it. “Before language, there are images. Before persuasion, there are symbols. We create the story in our own minds about what we need and what we believe.”
Those ideas were reinforced at home. Growing up in immigrant communities surrounded by Ukrainians, Russians, and Eastern Europeans, I found that dinner table conversations were rarely casual.
“They were always conversations about politics and history,” he says. “And they were always about propaganda.”
For families who had experienced the political upheavals of Europe firsthand, propaganda was not an abstract idea. It was something that shaped reality.
Krivkovich became fascinated by how these narratives influence belief and behavior. Initially, he planned to pursue law, but a chance decision in college changed everything. Searching for a class that fit an open slot in his schedule, he enrolled in an advertising course.
“I remember thinking advertising was just writing jingles,” he says. “Then the professor started talking about helping people recognize needs they didn’t even know they had.”
The connection clicked instantly.
“I thought, my God. This is propaganda.”
The mechanics were the same: understanding what motivates people and shaping messages that resonate with those instincts. That realization would define the rest of his career. Over more than four decades in advertising, Krivkovich has seen the industry transform through waves of technological change. New media platforms appear. Data multiplies. Today, artificial intelligence promises to accelerate everything from copywriting to visual production.
But the core principles, he argues, remain remarkably consistent.
“You still need insight,” he says. “Machines can generate outputs. They can identify patterns. But someone still has to interpret what it means.”
That interpretation begins with understanding how people see themselves. Consumers do not simply buy products. They buy identity.
Krivkovich often points to automotive advertising as one of the clearest examples of how brands operate on an emotional level. During Cramer-Krasselt’s work with Porsche, the challenge was not explaining engineering. It was understanding what the car represented.
“When we got the business, we were dealing with fanatical German engineers,” he says with a smile. “They would literally debate the size of the little screw that goes into some tiny part of the engine.”
But most consumers were not buying a Porsche because of technical specifications.
“Ninety percent of the people who buy a Porsche have no idea what’s inside the car or why it does what it does.” Instead, the campaign focused on something deeper.
“We started talking about the soul of a machine.” For drivers, the car becomes more than transportation. It becomes identity.
“It’s the feeling,” Krivkovich explains. “It’s ego. It looks. You’re saying something about yourself.”
In that sense, the car functions almost like fashion.
“It’s another extension of what you want to project and what you also want to feel.”
Even though the current conversation in the advertising industry inevitably centers on the fear of artificial intelligence, Krivkovich sees the advantages.
“AI can accelerate production and expand creative possibilities. But it does not eliminate the human element that sits at the center of persuasion. Insight still requires interpretation,” he says. “Understanding culture, emotion, and meaning remains a human skill.”
That distinction matters. Advertising has always existed at the intersection of art and psychology. It is not only about what can be produced. It is about what resonates. And resonance cannot be automated. Data may be more precise, and AI may generate ideas at unprecedented speed. But persuasion still operates on the same foundations that fascinated Krivkovich as a young child: symbols, emotion, and human insight.
“It’s the long game of persuasion,” he says.
And in advertising, just as in the game of Risk, the winning players like Krivkovich are the ones who understand the underlying strategy before they make their move.
Amy Pais-Richer is REEL 360 News’ newest contributor. She is a published author and we are lucky to have her!
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