Roy Jakobs has been saying the right words for a while now. At Davos in January 2026, freshly reappointed as Philips CEO, he called for an “open ecosystem” in which Philips adopts other companies’ AI into its workflows rather than trying to build everything itself. By March, he was describing Philips’ shift from standalone devices toward integrated AI platforms, while also warning that slower growth leaves less room to keep investing in innovation. Then in July, alongside the Dutch government’s €102.5 million MedTech commitment, he returned to the same theme: “innovation thrives when we come together around a shared ambition”.

That is not random messaging. It is a CEO describing something close to an orchestrator strategy. The question is whether Philips’ actual architecture matches what its CEO is now saying in public.

A simple test helps. If Philips disappeared from HealthSuite tomorrow, would the hospitals, AI vendors, and researchers connected to it keep building together on their own? Or would the whole thing simply stop? If the honest answer is “it would stop,” then Philips does not yet have an ecosystem in the full sense. It has a company-centred network using ecosystem language. That distinction – metaphor versus operating logic – is the most useful lens for reading Philips’ current strategic fork.

Metaphor versus operating logic

Using the Intelligent Intergrated Business Ecosystem (IIBE) lens, the difference is straightforward. The IIBE is designed to expose how a company’s architecture really works – where power, governance, and value sit in practice, not in slides. Ecosystem as metaphor means a company describes its partnerships, marketplaces, and platforms in ecosystem language while the real decisions still sit inside its own governance, incentives, and control logic. Ecosystem as operating logic means governance, data flows, experimentation, and value capture are deliberately designed so that outside actors can build, scale, and benefit on infrastructure the anchor company does not fully dictate.

Philips’ HealthSuite and ECG AI Marketplace are real enough, but structurally they still look like Philips-owned rails with Philips-defined terms. That is company-level logic borrowing system-level language. It is not unusual; many important ecosystems begin this way. The real issue is whether Philips evolves beyond that stage or gets stuck there.

The pendulum Philips keeps repeating

Philips has spent decades swinging between two different failure modes. For much of its history, it over-indexed on invention without reliably capturing the value. NatLab helped produce the compact cassette, the CD with Sony, early LED advances, and the semiconductor capabilities that later fed into ASML. Innovation was not the missing ingredient. The persistent weakness was converting breakthrough invention into durable, compounding, owned advantage.

Then came the swing the other way. After the Respironics crisis, Philips did what a company in shock should do: preserve cash, tighten operations, and rebuild credibility. Jakobs’ turnaround is real; Philips has reported improving sales, margins, and order intake despite tariff and geopolitical pressure. But a crisis response can easily harden into a strategic habit. When pilots narrow, experimentation slows, and near-term extraction dominates, the company may protect the core while quietly losing the next layer of strategic freedom. Philips has already seen what this looks like in practice: from the full value of the CD, to semiconductor depth, to the upside of ASML, important positions have slipped when architecture and governance lagged behind invention.

This is where the innovation-portfolio problem matters. Philips does not just appear to swing between experimentation and extraction; it appears to do so without a stable, explicit portfolio of bets across horizons. In a true innovation portfolio, some capital protects the core, some extends adjacencies, and some creates future options. Without that balance, the pattern becomes predictable: one era produces too many disconnected experiments; the next kills or starves them in the name of discipline; and the company never builds a repeatable pathway from invention to new architecture. In IIBE terms, the portfolio gap shows up as an architecture that can’t reliably turn pilots and incremental projects into system‑level capabilities and commercial scale. Research on innovation portfolios repeatedly shows that firms overloaded with incremental projects rarely generate the growth they seek, while weak portfolio design often kills breakthrough options before they scale.

The ASML lesson, properly read

This is where the Philips story becomes more interesting than the standard cautionary tale. The usual version says Philips co‑founded ASML and then failed to hold onto the value. That is true at one level, but incomplete at the level that matters.

ASML emerged in 1984 as a joint venture between ASM International and Philips, at a time when Philips did not want to carry the full cost and risk of lithography R&D on its own. In other words, ASML was not only a story of strategic foresight. It was also a story of constrained capital, risk sharing, and partial release. Philips did not create ASML by perfectly orchestrating an ecosystem from the centre; it helped create the conditions for ASML by allowing something strategically important to become more independent than its normal control instincts might have preferred.

Philips has been here more than once. ASML is the clearest case, but the later spin‑off of its lighting business into what is now Signify – separating health tech from connected LED lighting under capital and focus pressure – followed a similar pattern: when the scope and investment needs of an activity became too large to run as just another Philips division, independence and new governance followed.

That changes the lesson. Philips’ greatest ecosystem successes may not have come from holding tighter, but from loosening its grip early enough for independent governance, partner trust, and external complementors to emerge. The point is not that Philips should simply “let go” in some vague romantic sense. The point is more exact: when innovation becomes too complex, too distributed, and too capital‑intensive for one company to control end‑to‑end, value shifts toward whoever designs and governs the shared architecture.

The real strategic move: orchestrate others’ innovation

That is the sharper thesis Philips now needs. If a company is under real capital discipline and no longer wants to fund broad internal experimentation at scale, the only credible way to continue benefiting from innovation is to become a great orchestrator of other people’s innovation. In IIBE language, that is the work of dynamic orchestration and adaptive governance: creating movement and shared value in the ecosystem, and making sure the trust infrastructure and rules can adapt as more actors join. That means owning the interfaces, standards, governance rules, and system architecture that let external actors experiment and scale on your rails – without turning the whole thing back into a one‑company system.

This is not the same as “spend more on R&D,” and it is not the same as “extract more from what we already own.” It is a third move. Philips does not need to outspend Siemens Healthineers or GE HealthCare in every AI domain. It needs to become the indispensable coordination layer in the domains that matter most to MedTech. That is the difference between participating in innovation and architecting its direction.

The IIBE’s core question here is simple: will Philips be a neutral orchestrator, or simply coordinate activities within boundaries it already controls?

Tier 2 or Tier 1

Seen through that part of the IIBE lens, Philips’ current positioning looks uncomfortable. In many of its AI and data plays, Philips still resembles a Tier 2 actor: a supplier contributing data and algorithms into environments others govern, rather than a Tier 1 orchestrator that sets the shared architecture and the interfaces others must plug into. Tier 2 actors can make money. They do not usually shape the system.

A Tier 1 orchestrator sits higher in the architecture. It shapes the rules, governs the platform, and captures the optionality that comes from being central rather than adjacent. That distinction matters because optionality – future strategic room to move – is now the scarce asset. Once a company settles into a subordinate layer of someone else’s architecture, climbing back up becomes expensive and politically difficult. And every year Philips waits, the easier it becomes for rivals to lock in that upper tier.

The Dutch bet and what it really asks

That is why the July 2026 announcement matters more than the headline amount suggests. The Dutch government and Philips jointly announced a ten-year MedTech investment: €102.5 million in public funding, matched by €50 million from Philips, aimed at image-guided therapy powered by AI and robotics. The ambition is explicitly ecosystem-level: to strengthen the Dutch and European MedTech system by connecting start-ups, SMEs, hospitals, universities, and larger companies.

This is not a rescue package. It is a nomination. The Dutch state is, in effect, asking Philips to play a system-shaping role in a sector where innovation will increasingly depend on shared data, clinical workflows, software layers, and institutional trust. That is a much bigger ask than running a better internal platform.

It also brings a hard behavioral constraint into view. Hospitals, researchers, and AI partners will only contribute seriously to a shared innovation system if they believe the governance is neutral enough to protect their interests. If Philips uses public money to build a bigger version of a Philips-controlled network, the ecosystem language will stop persuading people long before the architecture starts compounding.

The control trap

This is the trap some industrial platforms fall into: trying to become the orchestrator by increasing ownership rather than increasing trusted coordination. The result is a platform that is technically central but politically unattractive. Partners join cautiously, share selectively, and hold back their best assets because they do not want to strengthen a proprietary gatekeeper.

For Philips, that is the key design challenge. The company does not need less control in the abstract; it needs the right kind of control. It should control the interfaces, quality standards, and system coherence that make a MedTech ecosystem reliable. But it cannot control the whole field so tightly that hospitals, AI developers, and academic centres feel they are simply feeding Philips’ next proprietary advantage. In behavioral terms, the ecosystem only works if other actors see enough gain, enough fairness, and enough autonomy to keep contributing.

Why the IIBE lens matters

This is exactly why the IIBE framework is useful here. It forces the question away from rhetoric and toward structure, and its full evaluation takes an organisation through extensive diagnostic and discovery so boards can see where their ecosystem design is strong, and where it quietly closes their options. Is Philips operating at company level while speaking at system level? Is it preserving strategic optionality or quietly closing it? Is it orchestrating a partner system or merely extending its own enterprise boundary?

Those are not abstract questions. They are board-level questions about capital allocation, governance design, trust, and future value capture. Philips’ fork is not simply whether to innovate more or cut harder. It is whether to remain a company-centred actor with ecosystem vocabulary, or become a genuine orchestrator of MedTech innovation in a world where no single player can own the whole stack.

The choice, stated plainly

So the choice now looks sharper than it first appears.

One path is familiar: keep running a Philips-led network, optimise extraction, limit experimentation, and accept a role as a strong but ultimately subordinate player inside larger architectures shaped by others.

The other path is harder but more consequential: build the governance, interfaces, and shared architecture that allow other actors to innovate around Philips without requiring Philips to fund all the experimentation itself. That is the only path by which a more disciplined Philips can still capture the upside of innovation at system scale.

What makes this more than an abstract choice is timing. The orchestrator role is still available in MedTech AI today; it will not be if two or three better-capitalized rivals succeed in entrenching their architectures first. In that scenario, Philips’ current Tier 2 position becomes the ceiling, not the starting point.

That is what makes Philips such a revealing case for business ecosystem thinking. It shows the difference between talking about ecosystems and building one. And it shows why, in turbulent times, the companies that still benefit from innovation are not always the ones that invent the most. Often, they are the ones that learn to orchestrate best.The Dutch government has bet that Philips can do the second. Roy Jakobs’ public language suggests he understands this direction.

The unresolved question is whether Philips is prepared to redesign not just its strategy deck, but its operating logic. In the next piece in this series, Paul Hobcraft uses the full IIBE to show what dynamic orchestration and adaptive governance look like in practice and needing to be applied to Philips through this IIBE lens, and how this can give boards a clearer basis for deciding which path to take and what to avoid.