Silicon Valley adores a viral story, but it’s unlikely for one of tech’s giants to take one and turn it into an actual corporate initiative. That is precisely what happened at Palantir after a video of its chief executive, Alex Karp, fidgeting and pacing and shifting in his chair — truly he could not sit still — during an interview went viral. What might have been only another TikTok moment was cast instead as something larger — a public discussion of neurodiversity, leadership and who should “look” like the C.E.O.
Rather than ignore it, or let PR teams bury the noise, Palantir went straight at the moment. The company unveiled a new “Neurodivergent Fellowship,” a program designed to help recruit, support and promote people whose brains do not operate in the standard corporate manner. And it didn’t seem coincidental. It was as if Palantir, in my dream, had said: If our CEO doesn’t move among C.E.O.s the way others do, then maybe workers shouldn’t be expected to either.
That viral clip was ripe for misunderstanding. Critics poked fun at Karp’s restiveness. Others called him nervous or unprepared. But anyone who has known someone with neurodivergence would have clocked the behavior in an instant — the ceaseless movement, the physical impatience, his mind racing ahead of everyone else’s pace. The online response turned from humor to empathy within hours. People started sharing their own experiences of having A.D.H.D., autism, and anxiety-driven motion and sensory overload.
And that’s where Palantir saw an opportunity. The fellowship, insiders say, is not designed to be performative or symbolic. It’s based on a true fact: Some of the best technical minds, problem solvers and high-focus engineers are neurodivergent, and the typical office place doesn’t bring them in so much as push them away. Tech companies will tell you they treasure “nonlinear thinkers,” but most hiring systems aren’t set up to find them.
Palantir’s move is novel not simply because of this particular initiative; neurodivergence is everywhere in Silicon Valley — but never acknowledged. Your industry is filled with people whose brains are wired differently, process differently and learn differently. It’s part of why the Valley has always been weird, brilliant, messy and out to change the world. But the vast majority of companies continue to expect their neurodivergent employees to camouflage, perform or “tone it down.”
But Karp’s viral moment chipped away at that facade. It demonstrated to the public — and his own staff — what unvarnished neurodivergence looks like when it’s perched at the very pinnacle of a multibillion-dollar defense-software empire. And, in launching the fellowship, Palantir was effectively saying: perhaps all of those who don’t sit still, think linearly or communicate in the polished corporate way — maybe they’re precisely what we need more of.
The fellowship is to take on mentorship, housing, specialized onboarding and direct bridges into technical roles. But even more than the structure, what matters is the emotional message. Neurodivergent workers are weary of being told that they’re “too much” or “not professional enough.” They’re weary of sounding so misunderstood on the page, in interviews, not because they don’t know how to speak but because it doesn’t happen the way the template writes it up. They’re done with spaces that reward sameness.
It’s not as if Palantir is claiming this program will be a silver bullet. It’s not going to have an immediate effect on attitudes within every engineering team. It won’t erase the stigma. And it certainly won’t be a magic wand that makes neurodivergent workers feel safe in all workplaces. But it is a signal — an emphatic one — that difference isn’t merely tolerated. It’s an asset.
For years, tech culture has been host to a cult that worships the magic of “genius founders” and their ability to think differently, obsess intensely and exist above the concerns of things like “money” or “literally any other human being.” But when non-executive workers exhibit those characteristics, they are often punished. There is only one distinction between “eccentric” and “unprofessional,” and that’s power.
Karp turned the tables on that dynamic with his viral moment. It was a reminder that leadership doesn’t always look placid, or quiet, or polished. Sometimes it’s someone tapping his foot throughout an interview because that’s how he thinks best. And rather than pretending that reality didn’t exist, Palantir sought to develop a program that would say: if that’s you, we want you to be here.
The fellowship could encourage other firms to reassess their own hiring biases. It could nudge HR departments into recognizing that fitting in the corporate mold has nothing to do with talent. Or maybe it simply provides a handful of brilliant, hyperactive brains an entry point to an industry that is silently populated with people quite similar to them.
Either way, Palantir transformed a viral moment into something rare in tech — not an exercise in damage control but an invitation.
