The Limmatquai in Zurich is essentially a living museum of Swiss identity. Here, the scenery is curated for the world: cafes serve bubbling fondue and souvenir shops sell cowbells scaled down to the size of keychains. It is a postcard of a nation that prides itself on stability, tradition, and a certain timeless modesty.
But nestled among these tropes is a flagship store that feels like a glitch in the matrix. With its minimalist glass fronts, polished chrome, and high-concept design, the store belongs to On, the running shoe giant. The company’s presence in the heart of “postcard Zurich” is a calculated move, but it has become a lightning rod for a deeper, more contentious debate about the Swissness rules and what it actually means to be a Swiss brand in the 21st century.
On has achieved a scale of success rarely seen in the Swiss startup scene, evolving from a three-man operation into a multi-billion dollar global powerhouse listed on the New York Stock Exchange. Yet, as it conquers cities from Seoul to Berlin, it is facing an identity crisis at home. The conflict centers on a tiny piece of fabric sewn into its shoes: the Swiss cross.
For years, the company has marketed itself as being as quintessentially Swiss as Gruyère cheese or Victorinox knives. However, the reality of its supply chain is global; the shoes are produced in Vietnam and Indonesia. This discrepancy led to a high-stakes standoff with “Swissness Enforcement,” a body supported by the federal government and business associations like Economiesuisse, which questioned whether a product made in Southeast Asia has any right to carry the national symbol.
A Legal Compromise and a National Divide
The tension reached a breaking point last summer when Swissness Enforcement engaged lawyers in China—one of On’s most critical markets—to determine if the company’s use of the Swiss cross violated national branding laws. The company remained defiant, suggesting there was no basis for the criticism and threatening legal action.
The stalemate ended three weeks ago when the Swiss government unexpectedly loosened the regulations governing the use of the national cross. Under the new guidelines, products no longer need to be physically manufactured within Switzerland to display the symbol, provided that the research and development (R&D) take place within the country. The only caveat is that the cross cannot be larger than the accompanying text—which, for On, reads “Swiss Engineering.”
| Requirement | Traditional Rules | Revised “Swiss Engineering” Rules |
|---|---|---|
| Manufacturing Location | Must be primarily in Switzerland | Can be abroad (e.g., Vietnam) |
| R&D Location | Secondary to production | Must be based in Switzerland |
| Symbol Usage | Standard Swiss Cross | Cross must be smaller than “Swiss Engineering” text |
While On describes this as a “typically Swiss compromise,” others spot it as a betrayal of the national seal. Traditionalists, including the household appliance maker V-Zug and shoe manufacturer Roberto Martullo of Künzli-Schuhe, have criticized the move as a “disservice” to the industry. Some, like former Senator Thomas Minder, have even suggested a popular initiative to protect the integrity of the Swiss cross.
The Strategy of “Cool” vs. The “Bünzli” Image
The struggle over the Swiss cross is not just about law; it is about the image of the Swiss people. Historically, the global perception of the Swiss has been one of reliability, punctuality, and groundedness. These are virtues, but they are rarely “cool” in the world of high-performance athletic gear.
To bridge this gap, On employed a strategy of “image transfer.” They didn’t just sign athletes; they signed icons. The turning point came in 2019 when Roger Federer joined as both an investor and a brand ambassador. Federer provided the one thing the brand needed to transcend sport: a global lifestyle aura.
Since then, the company has carefully curated a roster of ambassadors who embody a new, urban version of Switzerland. Instead of traditional figures in Edelweiss shirts, On promotes athletes like hurdler Ditaji Kambundji and footballer Sydney Schertenleib, placing them alongside global stars like Zendaya and FKA Twigs. This version of Switzerland is diverse, networked, and unapologetically confident—a far cry from the cowbells of Limmatquai.
Yet, this global prestige has created a strange paradox at home. In many Swiss cities, On has become the “Boomer shoe.” The “Cloud” model, once the vanguard of innovation, became so ubiquitous that it earned the label of a “Bünzli model”—a term used to describe someone who is narrow-minded or overly conventional. In a cruel twist of fashion, the shoe became too popular for its own good, losing its “cool” factor among the youth in the very country where it was born.
Redefining Value Through Innovation
To defend its claim to Swissness, On is attempting to shift the conversation from where a shoe is made to how it is imagined. The company has invested heavily in the “Lightspray” technology, a process where robots spray layers of plastic filaments around a mold to create a seamless upper without human intervention.
By inviting policymakers and representatives from the Swiss business federation to witness these robots in action at their Zurich headquarters, On is lobbying for a new definition of national value creation. Their argument is simple: if the ideas, the patents, and the engineering happen in Zurich, the product is Swiss, regardless of where the assembly line sits.
This philosophy extends to the company’s leadership. On frequently hires executives from global giants like Spotify, Dyson, and Levi Strauss to maintain a corporate culture that looks outward. This internationalism is evident in the company’s financial structures; it chose New York over Zurich for its IPO to attract capital from investors who view it as a lifestyle brand rather than a simple shoe manufacturer.
This shift away from “groundedness” is perhaps most visible in the executive suite. Former CEO Martin Hoffmann, a German national who led the company for 13 years, received a compensation package of 9.8 million francs for 2025—a figure that stands in stark contrast to the traditional Swiss ideal of modesty.
the fight over a running shoe is a fight over the soul of a nation. Switzerland is deciding whether it wants to remain a collection of watchmakers and cheesemakers, or if it is ready to embrace a future where designers and marketing strategists are the new cultural exports.
The next significant checkpoint in this cultural clash will be the potential filing of a popular initiative by Thomas Minder, which could force a national vote on the protection of the Swiss cross. Until then, On continues to bet that “Swiss Engineering” is a more valuable currency than “Made in Switzerland.”
Do you think national symbols should be tied to where a product is made, or where it is designed? Share your thoughts in the comments below.
Disclaimer: This article discusses corporate branding and legal regulations. It is provided for informational purposes and does not constitute legal or financial advice.
