When the first golden arches appeared in Moscow’s Pushkin Square in 1990, it did not matter that it was the middle of winter. It was as if the snow in Narnia had begun to melt, and the natural state of things was being returned in glorious technicolor. Russians queued around the corner for a taste of once forbidden patties.
“If you can’t go to America, come to McDonald’s in Moscow,” an advertisement said.
Soon other global brands piled in and dotted streetscapes with their logos and storefronts. The country of Potemkin imported many such familiar facades that were effective in conferring a kind of legitimacy to its government. Whether it was McDonald’s or Hugo Boss, such frontages suggested a country hip to modernity.
On Monday last week, McDonald’s Corp decided to pulled the plug and “de-arch” Russia. That is markedly different from simply shuttering an outlet as McDonald’s and other brands did two weeks after Russian President Vladimir Putin launched his invasion of Ukraine on Feb. 24.
Employees continued to be paid and stores stood with logos aloft, still on the books of the parent company. Such actions could easily be reversed in a way that a wholesale market exit cannot be. Many other international brands did the same as a sign of disapproval, but not yet despair.
Now companies are properly leaving.
French automaker Renault SA also on Monday last week announced it was selling all of its Russian assets to a government-controlled entity.
More companies are no doubt to follow. It is like seeing Narnia’s thaw thrown into reverse.
McDonald’s chief executive officer Chris Kempczinski said that the company’s entry into the Russian market 32 years ago had been a triumph of hope: “Hope for a country that was opening itself to the world after decades of isolation. Hope that the world was becoming a little more connected,” symbolized by being able to get the same Big Mac in Moscow that you got in Chicago.
However, hope needs some kind of handle.
Kempczinski said that he considered the legal constraints on operations, whether the brand could meet customer needs and operate the business freely, whether its presence was brand-enhancing, whether it made business sense and whether it aligned with McDonald’s values.
Only the last point gave pause — what about the 62,000 employees, the franchisees and all the local relationships?
However, in the end, the humanitarian crisis in Ukraine caused by Putin’s war provided the answer.
For a company that built a global empire on a strategy of replication, what it now describes as “de-arching” — meaning the brand’s logo, name and menu can no longer be used — is unprecedented. Execution is likely to be messy and the company does not have a timeline.
McDonald’s said it is looking to sell its nearly 850 restaurants in Russia to a local buyer.
Most of the outlets are company-owned, but more than 100 are controlled by franchisees, and some of those have refused to shut down or remove the golden arches.
McDonald’s aims to keep paying its employees in Russia until a buyer is found, but those workers, franchisees and a large network of suppliers and service-providers all face an uncertain future, collateral damage of Putin’s war. Gone, too, would be Ronald McDonald House charities and Hamburger University, which taught business skills and provided career opportunities.
Government-backed entities are likely to try to convince Russians nothing much has changed or that a domestic McDonald’s would be even better.
In March, a new Russian restaurant chain revealed its logo — a Cyrillic “B,” (pronounced as a “V” in Russian) that looks like the golden arches sideways.
New York Times journalist Tom Friedman’s observation that no two countries with McDonalds would fight a war against each other seemed to hold true. It is a reminder of a rather more mundane rule: that countries without the rule of law, whose leaders-for-life are not democratically accountable, are capable of crazy things.
For a US$181 billion company, a non-cash charge of approximately US$1.2 billion to US$1.4 billion for its investment in Russia is hardly a major hit; shares barely moved in early trading.
However, the McDonald’s exit is further confirmation that a new iron curtain descended on Feb. 24. It is confirmation that Russia is no longer investible, even for a burger franchise with a presence in 100 countries. For Russians themselves, it is another sign that winter has returned. Who knows how long it will last this time.
Therese Raphael is a columnist for Bloomberg Opinion covering healthcare and British politics. Previously, she was editorial page editor of the Wall Street Journal Europe.
This column does not necessarily reflect the opinion of the editorial board or Bloomberg LP and its owners.
In a stark reminder of China’s persistent territorial overreach, Pema Wangjom Thongdok, a woman from Arunachal Pradesh holding an Indian passport, was detained for 18 hours at Shanghai Pudong Airport on Nov. 24 last year. Chinese immigration officials allegedly informed her that her passport was “invalid” because she was “Chinese,” refusing to recognize her Indian citizenship and claiming Arunachal Pradesh as part of South Tibet. Officials had insisted that Thongdok, an Indian-origin UK resident traveling for a conference, was not Indian despite her valid documents. India lodged a strong diplomatic protest, summoning the Chinese charge d’affaires in Delhi and demanding
The wrap-up press event on Feb. 1 for the new local period suspense film Murder of the Century (世紀血案), adapted from the true story of the Lin family murders (林家血案) in 1980, has sparked waves of condemnation in the past week, as well as a boycott. The film is based on the shocking, unsolved murders that occurred at then-imprisoned provincial councilor and democracy advocate Lin I-hsiung’s (林義雄) residence on Feb. 28, 1980, while Lin was detained for his participation in the Formosa Incident, in which police and protesters clashed during a pro-democracy rally in Kaohsiung organized by Formosa Magazine on Dec.
Watching news footage of Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) officials shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries with their counterparts across the Taiwan Strait, I could not help but feel a profound sense of temporal displacement. As a member of the generation born after the lifting of martial law and raised under modern civic education, I truly want to ask the KMT: “Do you not see who the true villain is?” In 1949, the Chinese Communist Party used a bloody civil war to drive the KMT into exile in Taiwan. In the decades that followed, it has sought to completely erase the existence
President William Lai (賴清德) on Sunday congratulated Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi and her Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) on their historic landslide victory in Japan’s general election. The LDP secured the largest single-party majority in post-World War II Japan, winning 316 seats. The win is expected to strengthen ties with Japan’s allies and potentially deter Chinese aggression in the region. American Institute in Taiwan Director Raymond Greene on Monday said that under Takaichi’s leadership, he anticipates deeper coordination among the US, Japan and Taiwan to promote regional stability and prosperity. US President Donald Trump has also shown his strong support for Takaichi,