Trump’s victory isn’t just America’s crisis—it’s a global marketing lesson we ignore at our own peril

The world held its breath. For days, we watched with visceral intensity as the US election unfolded, knowing that its impact would reach far beyond American shores. This wasn’t just about voting on a leader; it was a nation—and indeed a world—standing at a precipice. As Hemingway put it, some changes happen “gradually, then suddenly.” Trump’s return to power feels exactly this way—unsettling yet inevitable, the result of forces that have been building for years and then burst forth in one sweeping moment. And as the world still reels with questions about how, marketing may just be where we find the answers.

For those of us in the industry, Trump’s win is a compelling case study. Strip away the political allegiances and rhetoric, and what remains is the brutal, uncompromising machinery of a masterful brand campaign—one that repositions America as a nation standing on the razor’s edge between unity and fracture. And that rebranding, like it or not, reverberates far beyond US borders, especially as Trump’s policies on tariffs and trade hang over markets like China and India. We are staring at a redefined America that will inevitably impact our economic stability, trading policies, and the cultural currents that inform our advertising landscapes.

We should pay close attention, for this election was about something we know all too well: The ability to sell a dream. Beneath the political surface lies a masterclass in campaign strategy, audience targeting, and brand resonance. Isn’t that what our work is about, too? Selling fantasies, visions, and emotions—each crafted to reach our audience on a deeply pervasive level. Every marketer knows that in the end, it’s about whose story lingers longer and echoes louder.

This fight wasn’t won on policy. It wasn’t about legislative nuances or intricate social welfare plans. It was about who could create the most potent emotional impact and strike the deepest nerves with ease. Trump’s approach was both primal and Pavlovian. He sold security, stability, and a nostalgic simplicity that cut straight through to the foundational layers of a Maslow’s hierarchy of needs—safety, belonging, and identity. Each message served as a kind of conditioned cue, like Pavlov’s bell, triggering a loyal response by affirming his supporters' fears, frustrations, and desires for a valid place in the world.

The Democrats and Kamala Harris meanwhile, appealed to ideals of self-actualisation, presenting themselves as the party of progress, diversity, and equality. Yet, in a world fraught with uncertainty, that appeal felt almost out of reach. When people crave the physiological, you can’t sell them an abstract future. It’s like placing a luxury product on the wrong shelf at the wrong price and wondering why it fails to resonate.

The former understood his product, his promotion, his placement, and his price—concepts at the heart of the very marketing model introduced by Jerome McCarthy in the 1960s, and later popularised by Philip Kotler. Trump knew his 4 Ps all too well; product: Himself, marketed as the unflinching defender of “true American values.” His price was straightforward: Unwavering loyalty and a commitment to his vision, even if that vision came with costs to personal morality or inclusiveness. His promotion was unmissable, an incessant and omnipresent narrative of protection, selfhood, and a return to less complex times. His place was everywhere his core audience resided, from rural communities to the disenfranchised middle-American voter or assimilated immigrant craving to belong.

By ensuring each element resonated and reinforced the others, Trump created a self-sustaining brand loop—one that the Democrats, for all their values, failed to achieve. Their product was layered, nuanced, and ambitious, but it felt removed from the tangible needs of voters looking for immediate solutions. Their promotion wavered, relying on celebrity endorsements and a vague aura of aspiration that often failed to reach beyond their base. They missed the first rule of branding: Always put the customer first, or at the very least, make them feel like you are doing so.

So, what does all this mean for our industry?

Well, for brands, this time will define a new reality. Marketing and communications may no longer be able to occupy a neutral space; we exist in an ecosystem charged with moral implications. We now face the question of where our values align—or clash—with those of our audiences. Statements that were once fringe—men declaring “your body, my choice” or calls for “true conservative values”—are shaping a new social landscape, and brands now find themselves in the heart of this volatile environment. The moment demands authenticity and clarity, qualities that can no longer be sidestepped. For, with over half of a nation rallying behind ideals that may not always resonate with brand missions, where does the line fall between consumer expectations and brand principles? Are we prepared to risk alienating swathes of consumers, or must we reassess our boundaries to adapt to an ever-shifting public sentiment?

Secondly, Trump’s rebranding of the US presents a profound challenge: How do we connect with audiences who are feel increasingly disillusioned or disenfranchised? The reality is that those most affected by this shift will be minorities, women, the LGBTQIA+ community, and others already on society’s margins—a truth that mirrors our industry’s own unresolved issues with representation. This election may have laid bare America’s divides, but it also casts an unflinching light on our own responsibility to confront the fractures within our industry.

For all our rhetoric of inclusion, diversity, and progress, our world can sometimes feel like an echo chamber, where well-worn ideals are recirculated but seldom realised. From the outside, we may appear as champions of equity and representation—a chamber that seems to embrace these notions wholeheartedly. But beneath the surface, our numbers often reveal another story, one that reflects the incongruity between what a campaign promises and what it delivers. This dissonance, like Trump’s effort itself, asks us to confront what we’re truly offering and to whom. Are we genuinely working towards a more levelled industry, or are we merely plugging the optics of it because we want you to want what we're selling?

It’s a moral dilemma as old as advertising itself: Even as we benefit from the foundational support and spending of marginalised groups, their voices and stories remain underrepresented in our campaigns, our content, and our leadership.

Much like the world seemed to bolster a woman with every qualification to lead, only to abandon her for the promise of a quick win, our industry too, often has a tendency to latch onto safe bets and short-term gains over lasting, meaningful change. In our pursuit of what’s profitable, the temptation to gloss over deep-rooted inequities becomes irresistible. And much like Trump’s veneered appeal to certain identities and his focus on reinforcing their sense of belonging, we too, risk perpetuating a façade of inclusivity that in reality, reinforces the status quo.

The parallels are uncomfortable but striking. We may find ourselves reaping the benefits of multifariousness while clinging to outdated norms that ultimately exclude and overlook the very audiences we claim to serve. We often celebrate diversity without questioning whether our structure truly supports it, champion sustainability without examining if our systems reflect it, and market equity while holding firm to conventions that sideline it.

This moment has left us with a choice: Take it as an indictment or answer it as a call to action. As an industry, we shape culture—and with that influence comes the responsibility to uphold the values that matter: Equality, women’s rights, bodily autonomy, and the very principle of choice itself. Our entire ethos rests on the idea that consumers have the freedom to choose, not merely the illusion of it. Even in persuasion, there must be respect for discretion. Freedom of expression too, is hollow if it comes with conditions on who grants it. These liberties are inextricably linked to creativity—the key force that sustains and defines our work.

We must ask ourselves what kind of stories we want to tell in a world that has been fundamentally reshaped, and are we prepared to adapt, to reform our values, to deepen our understanding of those we seek to reach, beyond what is easy or familiar? Because this is more than America’s rebranding; it’s our own reckoning. And whether we embrace it or ignore it will determine not only the tales we tell—but the very future we create.