Cadbury, Conscience and Commerce: The Cost of Staying in Russia

By Matthew Parish, Associate Editor

Thursday 18 June 2026

One of the most enduring debates arising from Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has been the question of corporate responsibility. When war breaks out on the European continent and a state launches a large-scale military assault against its neighbour, what obligations do multinational companies owe to their shareholders, their customers and the wider international community? The controversy surrounding Mondelēz International, owner of Cadbury, illustrates these questions in unusually stark form.

Since February 2022, hundreds of international companies have withdrawn from Russia, sold their local businesses or dramatically reduced their operations. According to research compiled by academic and civil society organisations monitoring corporate activity in Russia, a substantial number of Western firms have accepted significant financial losses in order to distance themselves from the Russian market.

Mondelēz chose a different path.

The company announced that it would scale back certain activities, halt new investments and seek to make its Russian operations more self-sufficient. However it did not leave Russia. Instead it continued manufacturing and selling products through its Russian subsidiaries and factories. The Russian market has remained a significant contributor to the company’s revenues. Critics argue that this decision allows tax revenues, employment and economic activity generated by Mondelēz operations to continue supporting the Russian state while the war in Ukraine persists.

The company’s position has generated a sustained backlash. Ukrainian authorities previously designated Mondelēz as an “international sponsor of war”, while investors, employees, campaign groups and consumers across Europe have repeatedly questioned the morality of maintaining normal business operations in Russia during wartime. Boycott campaigns emerged in Scandinavia, Australia and elsewhere, specifically targeting Cadbury and other Mondelēz brands. Several airlines and institutions removed Mondelēz products from their procurement chains.

The criticism has not been confined to activists. More than 30% of Mondelēz shareholders supported proposals demanding greater transparency regarding the company’s continued presence in Russia. Large institutional investors expressed concerns that the company had failed adequately to address the reputational and ethical risks associated with its Russian operations.

Cadbury’s involvement has proven especially symbolic. Cadbury is not merely another confectionery brand. For generations it cultivated an image rooted in the Quaker traditions of its founders — philanthropy, social responsibility and ethical business conduct. To many consumers, particularly in the United Kingdom, the idea that a company associated with those values would remain active in Russia during a destructive war appears contradictory.

This perception has carried tangible consequences. Campaigners urging British institutions and consumers to reconsider their relationship with Cadbury pointed to Mondelēz’s continued Russian presence. In late 2024, Cadbury lost its Royal Warrant after more than 170 years. Although no official explanation was provided, campaigners had explicitly highlighted Mondelēz’s Russian operations in their appeals to the Royal Household.

Defenders of Mondelēz argue that food companies occupy a special category. Chocolate, biscuits and snacks are not weapons; they observe. Food products are generally exempt from sanctions, and a sudden withdrawal might transfer factories and assets into the hands of politically connected Russian interests while achieving little practical effect. They also note that many other food manufacturers have maintained some presence in Russia.

Yet this argument has never fully persuaded the company’s critics. The issue is not whether chocolate bars are military equipment. The issue is whether multinational corporations should continue generating profits in a country conducting a major war of aggression when numerous competitors have demonstrated that withdrawal is possible, even at considerable cost. For many consumers, the answer is straightforward.

Consumers who wish to register their disapproval have only one practical mechanism available: they can choose not to purchase the company’s products.

Amongst the best-known Mondelēz and Cadbury brands are:

Consumers contemplating a boycott should verify ownership carefully, as product portfolios can change over time and may vary by jurisdiction. Nevertheless, these are among the principal brands associated with Mondelēz internationally.

Whether a consumer boycott materially alters corporate behaviour is difficult to determine. Large multinational companies make decisions based upon complex calculations involving shareholders, markets, supply chains and regulatory environments. Yet consumer choices remain one of the few direct means by which ordinary citizens can express their views on corporate conduct.

The controversy surrounding Cadbury and Mondelēz therefore extends far beyond chocolate. It raises a broader question about the obligations of global corporations during wartime. Is a company merely an economic actor with responsibilities to shareholders, or does it also bear moral responsibilities to the societies in which it operates?

The answer offered by Mondelēz has thus far been one of commercial pragmatism. The answer offered by its critics is that there are moments in history when commercial pragmatism is not enough.