• by Robert Passikoff , Op-Ed Contributor, 4 hours ago

You don’t have to be a farmer to recognize the green-and-yellow tractor. John Deere is one of the most iconic brands in America, right up there with Coca-Cola, Levi’s, and Ford. But unlike soda or blue jeans, John Deere is a matter of survival for the people who use it. And that makes its story all the more revealing and more critical.

Here’s the paradox: John Deere is one of the most admired brands in America, and its customer loyalty numbers prove it. They’ve ranked No. 1 in Agricultural Equipment in Brand Keys’ Customer Loyalty Engagement Index for nine straight years.

Among large-scale farmers, 98% say Deere meets their expectations.

Contractors rate them at 95%.

On the broader loyalty landscape, Deere climbed from No. 38 on the top 100 list in 2024 to No. 23 this year – a remarkable jump. From an emotional engagement and loyalty standpoint, the brand isn’t just strong; it’s legendary.

And yet it’s also a company under pressure. Tariffs on steel and aluminum have added nearly $600 million to costs. Farmers, squeezed by shrinking export markets, can’t afford new equipment, and many have retreated to the used market. Deere’s profits are down, and yet loyalty to the brand remains extraordinarily high.

That should make every CEO sit up. Because if John Deere can hold loyalty in the middle of a trade war, what excuse does your brand have?

The reason is simple but profound: brand loyalty isn’t built on transactions -- it’s built on meaning. Deere isn’t just selling tractors; it’s selling an identity tied to self-reliance, perseverance, and the American dream of feeding the nation. That symbolic weight keeps customers tethered to the brand, even when economics tell them to walk away.

Brand loyalty, in other words, is an insurance policy. When tariffs raise costs or when markets wobble, loyalty is what keeps customers from defecting. You can’t hedge it, you can’t import it, and you can’t fake it. You either have it -- or you don’t.

But don’t mistake resilience for invincibility. Loyalty buys time, not immunity. Farmers may prefer Deere, but if affordability keeps slipping out of reach, loyalty risks becoming nostalgia. That’s the warning for every brand leader: test the limits of loyalty long enough, and eventually you’ll find them.

The Deere lesson comes down to three imperatives for leaders today:

1. Build on values, not just features. If you’re competing on horsepower, there’s always someone faster. If you’re competing on patriotism, heritage, or purpose, that’s harder to dislodge values like that.

2. Protect loyalty like a balance sheet asset. Treat it as capital you can draw down in hard times—but know it requires reinvestment.

3. Never confuse loyalty with forgiveness. Loyal customers are six times more likely to stay loyal through crises, but they won’t tolerate being ignored.

In an age of volatility, loyalty is the last true competitive advantage. John Deere proves it: even under the weight of tariffs and global trade disruptions, the brand’s gravity keeps farmers in orbit.

The takeaway? The time to invest in brand loyalty is not when the storm hits -- it’s long before. Because when the tariffs, downturns, or disruptions inevitably come, brand loyalty is the one thing that can’t be tariffed, outsourced, or undercut.