Editorial: Ben Cohen’s Meltdown

Ben Cohen is back in the kitchen — this time not to churn ice cream but to whip up moral outrage in pint-size portions.

The Ben of Ben & Jerry’s fame has announced a new Palestine-themed flavor, after Unilever — the owner of the company he sold for hundreds of millions — refused to let him turn the Israeli-Palestinian conflict into dessert.

So, Cohen, undeterred by corporate caution or common sense, went rogue. In a video posted online, he’s seen crushing watermelons and declaring he’ll “make the flavor they wouldn’t.” The idea: a watermelon sorbet symbolizing “permanent peace in Palestine.”

Because nothing says “end the bloodshed” quite like a $6 pint of frozen fruit puree.

The symbolism, of course, is deliberate. The watermelon’s red, green, white and black mirror the Palestinian flag and have long been used as a solidarity emblem. But Cohen isn’t content with symbolism; he’s serving it up with spoons.

He even invited followers to submit ingredient ideas and pint designs, promising that the winner “gets their flavor made and design printed.” In other words: tweet your way to world peace.

Unilever, for its part, had the good sense to say no. The multinational conglomerate has enough trouble selling soap without wading into Middle East geopolitics. Cohen, though, is a man of principle — especially when those principles come with publicity.

After decades of making cookie dough a metaphor for social justice, he seems determined to prove that no issue is too grave and no tragedy too complex, to be turned into a frozen novelty.

There’s nothing wrong with caring about Palestinians. There is something absurd about turning that care into a marketing campaign. Cohen is not negotiating cease-fires or funding reconstruction. He’s branding feelings. That is political theater with sprinkles on top.

And it’s hardly his first act. Ben & Jerry’s stopped selling ice cream in what it called “occupied Palestinian territories” back in 2021 — a move that alienated Israeli consumers and sparked lawsuits.

Now Cohen has taken the performative activism solo, freed from the corporate leash, churning his way toward moral relevance one pint at a time.

It’s the perfect metaphor for modern virtue: the sweet taste of righteousness without the messy aftertaste of action. Who needs diplomacy when you have dessert? Who needs peace talks when you can post a reel about frozen empathy?

Imagine explaining this to someone in Rafah or Sderot. “Don’t worry, there’s a watermelon sorbet in Vermont calling for your liberation.” It’s not just tone-deaf — it’s parody, a sugary sermon from a man who’s never met a cause he couldn’t commodify.

Maybe Cohen’s next flavor can be “Cease-Fire Sherbet,” with a swirl of “Both-Sides Fudge.” Or “Occupation Crunch,” with chunks of self-righteousness and a ribbon of moral confusion.

The possibilities are endless when political complexity is just another topping.

The Middle East deserves empathy, seriousness and humility. What it’s getting instead is another scoop of sanctimony. Ben Cohen may believe he’s bringing peace through dessert, but what he’s really serving is the same thing he’s been selling for years: his sanctimonious self.