In contemporary politics, candidates no longer compete only with speeches and policy proposals; they compete with identities. Campaigns now operate like lifestyle brands, and voters increasingly behave like consumers. In Colombia, presidential hopeful Abelardo de La Espriella has stepped decisively into that arena, launching a luxury wristwatch as part of his political fundraising and visibility strategy.
The move has sparked debate: Is it creative financing, a populist symbol, or a calculated imitation of the political-branding playbook popularized by Donald Trump?
The watch — priced at 20,000,000 Colombian pesos (approximately US$5,000) — is not merely merchandise. It is messaging. And that distinction is central to understanding the candidate’s campaign.
More than a fundraising novelty, the product reveals a deliberate strategy: Convert political identity into a tangible object. Voters are not only asked to support ideas; they are invited to wear them.
The rise of the candidate as a brand
Modern campaigns increasingly operate under marketing logic: Name recognition, emotional loyalty, symbolic aesthetics, and visual repetition. In this context, De La Espriella’s project — tied to the political movement ‘Movimiento de Salvacion Nacional’ and the platform ‘Defensores de la Patria’, seeks to transform political affiliation into a lifestyle identity.
His public persona has long relied on a strong archetype: The aggressive lawyer, the combative debater, the man who presents himself as a national defender. The nickname “El Tigre” functions as a symbolic anchor, a personal myth. Launching a watch called ‘Tigris’ is therefore not random merchandising; it materializes the narrative. Supporters do not simply hear the message; they physically carry it.
The strategy mirrors a broader global political trend. Instead of separating political and personal spheres, candidates collapse them into one cohesive brand. Clothing, slogans, accessories, and online content become extensions of the same identity architecture. In this sense, the watch functions less like campaign swag and more like a badge of belonging, a premium political uniform.
The Tigris watch: symbol, status, and storytelling
The candidate presented the watch in a recorded message as a patriotic object created by Colombian watchmaker Alvaro Moya, emphasizing national pride and craftsmanship learned in Switzerland and returned to serve the country through De La Espriella campaign.
The narrative matters as much as the object itself. Rather than a generic luxury accessory, the product is framed as a patriotic artifact: Buying it becomes participation in a cause.
Technically, the watch reinforces that message through traditional luxury horology language. The Tigris features an automatic ETA 2428-2 Swiss-made movement with 25 jewels operating at 28,800 vibrations per hour, a 42-hour power reserve, and functions displaying hours, minutes, seconds, and date.
Additionally, it incorporates a sapphire crystal, a ceramic rotating bezel, a screw-down crown, and 316L stainless steel construction, making it water-resistant to 100 meters. The deployant clasp and caoutchouc strap reinforce a sporty aesthetic aligned with the “tiger” symbolism: strength, endurance, precision.
Only nine numbered pieces were produced. According to the candidate, and as he has publicly stated, they were “selected for the Defenders of the Homeland who understand every second counts when a nation’s destiny is at stake.”
Scarcity is central to the communication. Limited supply transforms supporters into insiders. Ownership signals political loyalty at a social level, a visible hierarchy within the movement. In branding terms, the watch is not merchandise; it is membership.
Echoes of the Trump playbook?
The resemblance to Trump’s political style lies less in ideology and more in technique. Trump blurred the lines between commerce and politics by integrating his personal brand into the campaign ecosystem.
Hats, sneakers, NFTs, books, and real-estate aesthetics were never separate ventures; they reinforced the same persona: a wealthy outsider fighting elites. Supporters did not simply vote for him; they consumed his identity.
De La Espriella appears to be applying a localized adaptation of that model. First, personalization. The campaign revolves around a character, not an organization. The tiger nickname becomes logo, metaphor, and ideological shorthand.
Second, premium symbolism. Instead of traditional campaign merchandise — caps or T-shirts — the candidate uses luxury goods. This creates an aspirational association: Supporters feel they belong to an exclusive circle rather than a mass electorate.
Third, narrative consistency. The message, the object, and the rhetoric reinforce each other. The lawyer who promises strength sells an object symbolizing power and precision. Political psychology calls this cognitive coherence: Voters trust what feels internally consistent.
Fourth, controversy as amplification. The debate over whether it is appropriate to sell a US$5,000 watch during a political campaign is itself free publicity. Every criticism multiplies visibility — a communication technique Trump mastered.
At the end of the day, and somewhat in the style of Trump, De La Espriella has been imprinting his personal brand in a bold and highly independent way, enabling him not only to attract large crowds but, more importantly, to inspire a degree of fervent loyalty, much like Donald Trump did during his campaign.
Thus, imitation does not lie in copying slogans but in copying mechanics: Provoke attention, monetize identity, and convert supporters into brand ambassadors.
Does branding win votes?
The key question is whether this strategy persuades undecided voters or merely energizes loyal followers. Political branding works primarily on three levels.
First, emotional clarity. In fragmented political landscapes, many voters lack time to analyze policy platforms. A strong personal brand offers a shortcut. Instead of evaluating programs, voters evaluate personality. The clearer the persona, the easier the decision.
Second, community formation. Buying or displaying branded items creates group belonging. Humans gravitate toward groups; political merchandise accelerates that instinct. The watch, because of its price and exclusivity, intensifies that dynamic — it signals elite membership inside a populist narrative.
Third, media efficiency. Traditional campaigns pay for visibility; branded controversies generate it organically. A single luxury product can produce more headlines than dozens of policy proposals.
However, branding has limits. It mobilizes supporters effectively but may alienate moderates. A luxury object can simultaneously project leadership strength and economic detachment. For some voters, it signals success; for others, distance from everyday realities.
Therefore, the strategy does not necessarily expand the electorate; it intensifies it.
Campaign financing or personal enterprise?
Another debate centers on whether the candidate leverages political exposure to build personal commercial value.
Modern politics increasingly rewards recognition beyond election cycles. A strong personal brand has economic afterlife: conferences, media platforms, books, consulting, and merchandise. Even unsuccessful candidates can become influential figures if their identity resonates.
Selling a watch blurs the lines between campaign financing and entrepreneurial positioning. Supporters fund the campaign, but they also invest in the personality. The candidate gains not only resources but market identity.
Critics argue this transforms democracy into influencer culture. Supporters are no longer only citizens; they become customers. Political loyalty risks becoming consumer loyalty.
Supporters counter that voluntary purchases reflect authentic engagement, a decentralized financing model replacing dependence on large donors.
Both interpretations may be true simultaneously. The campaign raises money and strengthens the candidate’s long-term personal brand ecosystem.
The politics of image in Colombia’s new era
Colombian political culture has historically relied on party structures, regional networks, and ideological labels. But digital communication has weakened those intermediaries. Candidates now compete directly in the attention economy.
In that environment, narrative beats programmatic detail. A memorable identity travels faster than a policy document. The Tigris watch operates precisely in that symbolic economy: An image capable of circulating through social media far more effectively than legislative proposals.
The real impact may therefore be cultural rather than electoral. Even if the watch does not add thousands of votes, it shifts expectations about how campaigns operate. Politics becomes performative storytelling rather than institutional negotiation.
That transformation reflects a broader global trend: democracy adapting to branding logic. Abelardo de La Espriella’s watch is not just a luxury accessory. It is a communication device, a fundraising mechanism, and a statement about how modern campaigns function.
By merging personality, symbolism, and commerce, the candidate positions himself within a political model where leaders operate as brands and supporters act as communities.
The parallels with Trump lie not in ideology but in strategy: identity over institution, emotion over program, visibility over structure.
Whether this approach ultimately translates into votes remains uncertain. Branding can mobilize enthusiasm, but cannot entirely replace trust built through governance proposals. Yet its influence on political culture is undeniable.
The campaign suggests a future where candidates are not merely elected, they are followed. And in that future, a watch may measure more than time. It may measure loyalty.