I return to my favourite writer, John Thornhill, and borrow from him that rare glint of insight. When he replaced the Strait of Hormuz with Apple, the analogy seemed exaggerated at first glance, almost too bold. But the more one contemplates it, the more its precision reveals itself.
The Strait of Hormuz is not merely a waterway; it is a choke point of power, a bottleneck through which energy flows and from which the world is watched.
Apple, in Thornhill’s metaphor, performs the same function—only in the digital geography. When it comes to how artificial intelligence is deployed in consumer services, Apple controls the technological equivalent of the Strait of Hormuz. Not because it is always the most innovative, nor because it leads the AI race, but because it owns the passage—the passage to the user.
Apple can be both partner and toll collector, much like the strait itself. It can license a third‑party model, wrap it in its own cloud‑based service, and take a cut of every subscription sold through the App Store.
And just as a fifth of the world’s oil passes through Hormuz, Apple’s platforms, App Store rules, and sheer volume of transactions give it immense power to shape entire markets, tax them, or redirect them altogether.
This analysis arrives at a delicate moment—one filled with speculation about Apple’s future leadership. Tim Cook, who carried forward the legacy of the late visionary Steve Jobs with quiet managerial discipline, was not the maker of the myth but its custodian. He transformed Apple from the genius of an individual into the machinery of a system—from inspiration into infrastructure.
Since taking over as CEO in 2011, Cook has overseen Apple’s expansion from a company valued at around $350 billion to one exceeding $4 trillion. Revenues have nearly quadrupled, and Apple has grown into a global ecosystem of more than 2.5 billion active devices.
Today, the company is undergoing one of the most significant leadership transitions in its modern history. After more than a decade at the helm, Cook will move into the role of Executive Chair, while John Ternus—Apple’s long‑time head of hardware engineering—prepares to assume the CEO position on 1 September 2026.
Ternus represents continuity, but also a shift in emphasis. A mechanical engineer by training, he has spent most of his professional life at Apple, rising through the ranks to lead hardware engineering for its flagship products. His track record is deeply intertwined with Apple’s core identity: building tightly integrated, high‑performance devices. He played a pivotal role in the evolution of the Mac and iPhone, in Apple’s transition to its own silicon, and in the launch of products such as AirPods.
But the question now is whether guardianship is enough in an age of technological explosions.
Thornhill hints at a striking paradox: power no longer lies solely in invention, but in controlling the channels of passage. AI companies multiply, ideas flow, models compete—but the user remains held within the grip of a screen. And at that screen stands Apple, the gatekeeper. The phone is no longer a device; it is a closed system of decisions.
What can be installed, what must be paid for, how a service is presented—all of it passes through a single filter. Not merely a technical filter, but an economic one. And here lies Apple’s own “Hormuz tax.”
Every app that crosses, every service that reaches the user, every subscription activated—there is a percentage taken, a decision made.
In geopolitics, the danger of chokepoints is well known: any tension raises oil prices, any threat rattles markets. In technology, the threat is quieter—but deeper.
When one company becomes the passage, innovation itself begins to adapt to it. Developers stop thinking about what is possible and start thinking about what is permitted. Creativity becomes negotiation. AI amplifies this contradiction.
Revolutions happen in laboratories, but usage happens in pockets—and the pocket, for the most part, is governed by Apple. A small company may develop a groundbreaking model, but it still needs a window. And the window is neither free nor neutral.
Apple does not need to dominate AI research to dominate its distribution. By controlling the most important points of sale and the most advanced silicon production lines, it can impose its terms on everyone. This is why the new CEO, John Ternus, promises influential AI products—and why Tim Cook becomes a global ambassador. Ternus must keep Apple’s devices and developer platform attractive enough for companies to continue relying on them, while Cook must keep diplomatic channels open in Brussels, Beijing, and Washington.
READ: Hormuz is the war’s invoice—and Washington can’t pay it
In the past, knowledge was power. Today, access is power. Apple does not need to be first in AI; it only needs to be the gate through which everyone must pass. This is a silent shift—but a profound one.
The question that imposes itself is whether this strait can be broken.
History says yes, but only under difficult conditions: either a technological revolution that changes the very shape of the device, or regulatory intervention that redistributes power.
So far, neither has fully materialised.
Apple, in this sense, is not merely a company. It is a form of invisible infrastructure—unseen by the consumer, yet decisive. It resembles the pipelines that no one notices but that determine what reaches the end user.
In the end, Thornhill is not praising Apple as much as he is warning about it. Warning of the moment when technology becomes a strait, and innovation becomes a compulsory crossing. At that point, the question is no longer: Who is better? but rather: Who is allowed to pass?
What began as a geographical metaphor ends as an economic truth: Apple is not a company, but a strait—and whoever controls the strait controls the passage.
The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.
