Portugal is in the midst of a presidential election cycle. Within the framework of a semi-presidential system, the country’s constitutional model allows for a significant concentration of political legitimacy in two distinct electoral events: the election of the Assembly of the Republic – and, consequently, the prime minister – and the direct election of the president of the Republic.
The office of president of the Republic is often described as largely symbolic, diplomatic, and representative, notwithstanding constitutionally relevant powers such as a veto, dissolution of the Assembly, and appointment functions. Yet, from a political communication perspective, presidential elections in Portugal are profoundly personalised. Campaigns tend to focus less on party machinery and more on the individual candidate, such as their personality, credibility, public image, and perceived moral authority.
This personalisation has concrete strategic consequences. Presidential candidates frequently seek to distance themselves, at least discursively, from explicit party affiliation, even when they originate from established political parties. The objective is to appeal to a broader and more heterogeneous electorate, including voters who might otherwise be ideologically opposed to the candidate’s political background. This often leads to more inclusive, less confrontational messaging, and to deliberate ambiguity regarding partisan identity.
Politics in the age of visibility and digital appeal
In recent years, this phenomenon has been intensified by the growing centrality of digital platforms (for further details, see this article, in Portuguese). Portuguese presidential campaigns, much like those in other democratic systems, are now heavily shaped by social media, traditional media exposure, and appearances in live streams hosted by digital influencers. Visibility, engagement metrics, and follower growth have become informal indicators of political traction.
As a result, candidates increasingly resemble public figures whose success depends not only on political ideas but also on personal appeal. Charisma, aesthetics, narrative coherence, and recognisability play a central role. Political support is no longer generated solely through ideological alignment; it is also cultivated through emotional identification and symbolic consumption. In this context, the candidate is no longer merely a political actor; they become a communicational asset.
This evolution naturally raises questions that go beyond political science and enter the domain of intellectual property law, particularly trademark law.
Trademarks, political signs, and the question of eligibility
Portuguese trademark law does not exclude political parties or political figures from the possibility of trademark protection. Article 208 of the Industrial Property Code defines a trademark as any sign capable of distinguishing the goods or services of one undertaking from those of other undertakings. Article 211 of the code further clarifies that the right to apply for a trademark belongs to any person with a legitimate interest, not restricting eligibility to commercial companies or traditional business entities.
At first glance, one might argue that political parties and candidates lack the commercial intent traditionally associated with trademarks. Political activity is not, in theory, aimed at the commercial exploitation of goods or services, and electoral campaigns are not businesses in the conventional sense. Under this view, trademark protection could appear conceptually misplaced in the political sphere.
However, this argument becomes increasingly difficult to sustain in contemporary political practice. Modern political campaigns frequently involve the sale and distribution of merchandise: T-shirts, caps, posters, flags, tote bags, and other branded items bearing party logos, candidate names, or campaign slogans. Events are organised, tickets may be sold, and communication services are professionalised. In some cases, revenues generated through merchandising help finance campaign activities or support affiliated movements.
From a trademark law perspective, these activities clearly fall within the scope of goods and services capable of being designated under the Nice Classification. Apparel, printed matter, promotional goods, and event organisation services are routinely protected through trademarks in other contexts. There is no doctrinal reason to exclude political actors from this framework.
A political party selling T-shirts bearing its logo is, in functional terms, using that sign to distinguish its goods from those of others. Likewise, a presidential candidate selling caps or other items featuring their name or slogan is engaging in a form of source identification. The fact that the underlying purpose is political rather than purely commercial does not negate the trademark function of the sign.
Thus, the relevant legal question is not whether political parties or candidates are ‘undertakings’ in the economic sense but whether the sign in question performs the essential function of a trademark, distinguishing goods or services in the marketplace.
Personal branding and the candidate as a trademark
The personalisation of politics has also contributed to the emergence of what might be described as ‘personal political branding’. Candidates cultivate coherent visual identities, recurring slogans, colour schemes, and stylistic elements that are consistently deployed across platforms. Over time, these elements acquire recognisability and associative value. In this sense, the candidate’s name itself may function as a sign with distinctive character, particularly when used systematically in connection with goods or services.
The increasing overlap between politics, branding, and trademark law reflects broader social transformations. Political identity is no longer expressed solely through voting or ideological commitment; it is also performed through consumption, visibility, and symbolic affiliation. Wearing a party’s logo or a candidate’s slogan becomes a form of political speech mediated by market mechanisms.
Trademark law, in turn, becomes an indirect regulator of these phenomena. By granting exclusive rights over certain political signs in specific commercial contexts, it shapes how political identities are packaged and disseminated. This does not mean that political ideas become proprietary, but it does illustrate how legal tools traditionally associated with commerce are increasingly relevant to democratic processes.
Ultimately, the intersection between politics and trademark law invites a broader reflection on how democratic participation, identity, and consumption are increasingly intertwined, and how legal systems must adapt to these evolving social dynamics.
