28.11.2025 06:33

The Quiet Empire of Gummy Bears: How Haribo Conquered the World by Refusing to Do Anything Else

News image

In an industry dominated by sprawling confectionery giants that churn out chocolate bars one day and sour candies the next, one company has spent over a century stubbornly doing just one thing: making gummy candy. And it’s absurdly good at it.

Haribo isn’t a household name in the same flashy way as Mars, Hershey’s, or Mondelez, yet it quietly generates around €3 billion in annual revenue and sells its iconic Goldbears in more than 100 countries. The secret? Laser-focused specialization in a category most people consider a kids’ snack.


From a Kitchen in Bonn to Global Dominance

The story starts in 1920, when Hans Riegel, a former candy-maker, and his wife Anita set up shop in a modest kitchen in Bonn, Germany, using a copper kettle, a marble block, and a sack of sugar.

Two years later, in 1922, Riegel invented the Gummibär — the dancing little gummy bear that would become one of the most recognizable candies on earth. The company name is simply HAns RIegel BOnn — Haribo.

While competitors diversified into cookies, chocolate, hard candy, and seasonal novelties, Haribo doubled down. No chocolate bars. No lollipops. No seasonal Easter eggs (unless they’re gummy). Just chewy, fruit-flavored perfection.

That obsessive focus paid off. Today Haribo operates 16 factories worldwide — 15 in Europe and, remarkably, only one in the United States, which opened in 2023 in Pleasant Prairie, Wisconsin.

Yes, you read that right: for a full century, every single Goldbear eaten in America was made in Europe and shipped across the Atlantic — a journey that could take up to 14 weeks.


The $300 Million Bet on Wisconsin

In 2023, Haribo finally broke its century-long European manufacturing monopoly and opened a 500,000-square-foot factory in Wisconsin capable of producing 60 million gummy bears per day. The investment? Roughly $300 million.

Why now? Because the U.S. is Haribo’s second-largest market after Germany, and demand had outstripped the ability of ocean freight to keep shelves stocked. Before the factory opened, popular flavors like raspberry (the red bears) would routinely sell out, because Americans devour red bears faster than any other color — a preference so strong that Haribo quietly adjusted U.S. bags years ago to include more red ones.

The new plant didn’t just solve supply issues; it slashed lead times from months to weeks, letting Haribo react quickly to trends (think limited-edition sour watermelon bears or Halloween-themed mixes) without risking empty shelves.


Local Taste, Global Recipe

Despite its rigid focus on gummies, Haribo has mastered the art of subtle adaptation:

  • In Scandinavia, salty licorice gummies dominate the lineup.
  • In Turkey and the Middle East, all products are halal-certified (no pork gelatin).
  • In France, you’ll find Tagada strawberries and crocodile-shaped foams.
  • In Belgium, chocolate-coated gummies exist (yes, really — a rare concession).

Yet the core Goldbear recipe has barely changed in 100 years. The company still uses the same six flavors in the same bear shapes. Consistency is part of the brand religion.

The Economics of Extreme Focus

In a world where conglomerates chase quarterly growth by acquiring everything from gum to granola bars, Haribo’s strategy looks almost defiant. It has no interest in being the next Nestlé. Instead, it owns a niche so completely that “gummy bear” is practically synonymous with its name in many countries.

This deep specialization creates massive barriers to entry. Competitors can make decent gummies, but they can’t replicate Haribo’s scale, brand recognition, or century-old mastery of gelatin texture. The result? Insanely high margins on what is essentially flavored sugar and cow-derived collagen.

And unlike many legacy brands that stumble during digital transformation, Haribo has quietly modernized behind the scenes: new factories, better logistics, data-driven flavor mixes — all while keeping the packaging and product feeling timeless.


Also read:

The Takeaway

In an era of endless diversification and private-equity roll-ups, Haribo is proof that sometimes the smartest business move is to refuse to expand your product line at all.

Do one thing ridiculously well for a hundred years, adapt just enough to local tastes, and eventually the world will beat a path to your gummy door — even if it takes a century to build a factory on the other side of the ocean.

That’s not just smart business. That’s sweet revenge on an industry that thought variety was the only path to growth.


0 comments
Read more