Ben Cohen Took a Stand for Gaza. Unilever Takes the Profits.

When Ben Cohen – co-founder of Ben & Jerry’s and lifelong social activist – was arrested in the U.S. Senate for disrupting a hearing on military aid to Israel, his words echoed louder than any headline.

“Congress kills poor kids in Gaza by buying bombs, and pays for it by kicking kids off Medicaid in the U.S.,” he said, moments before being escorted out of the building in handcuffs. The 73-year-old business icon was protesting what he sees as a grotesque moral failure: the U.S. government’s role in funding war abroad while cutting care for the vulnerable at home.

Yes, Cohen broke the law. Protesting inside congressional buildings is illegal – a rule meant to preserve order during official proceedings. But civil disobedience has always been about confronting the limits of legality to expose something greater: injustice.

Cohen’s message wasn’t vague or performative. It was specific, urgent, and rooted in values: stop funding the killing of civilians in Gaza. Stop financing war while denying healthcare to Americans. Stop acting as if these two policies – military aggression abroad and austerity at home – are separate. They are part of the same violent logic.

Cohen has always used his public platform for activism. From LGBTQ+ rights to climate change, he and co-founder Jerry Greenfield built Ben & Jerry’s into a company that embraced political courage. But since the brand’s decision in 2021 to stop selling ice cream in illegal Israeli settlements, that courage has come at a cost – including political backlash, a legal feud with parent company Unilever, and growing pressure to keep quiet.

Unilever now claims that Cohen was acting as a “private citizen.” Legally, that may be true. But morally, Cohen is doing exactly what he has always done: speak uncomfortable truths and accept the consequences. That’s not just protest – that’s principle.

And the question he forces us to confront is this: if peaceful, wealthy, wildly successful Ben Cohen cannot say these words inside the halls of Congress without being hauled out of the committee room, handcuffed, escorted away and charged, then who is allowed to speak? And what are we allowed to say?

In the aftermath of Cohen’s arrest, many social media users posted messages of support, pledging to buy Ben & Jerry’s as a way of standing with him. While the sentiment is admirable, it’s based on a misunderstanding. Ben Cohen no longer profits from Ben & Jerry’s. He and co-founder Jerry Greenfield sold the company to Unilever in 2000, and they no longer hold any ownership stake. They receive no income from the sale of its products. Although they remain publicly associated with the brand and its social mission, their influence today is symbolic rather than financial.

As such, buying Ben & Jerry’s ice cream does not materially support Ben Cohen. It supports Unilever – a multinational conglomerate that controls the company’s profits and key decisions. While an independent board exists to safeguard the brand’s values, the economic power lies elsewhere.

That irony – that a man arrested for protesting violence and inequality is being symbolically defended through purchases that enrich a global corporation – adds another layer of complexity to the story. Cohen doesn’t want your money. He wants your attention. And maybe, your outrage.

Because his arrest may have been legal. But what he said – about bombs, budgets, and forgotten lives – still demands to be heard.

Luisa Gabriel