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Nestlé is the number 1 in the global coffee business. The Swiss company also wants to be the industry leader in terms of ethics: From 2025, it promises that 100% of its coffee will come from "responsible" production. However, Nestlé pursues a ruthless purchasing policy, particularly for its ground coffee. The farmers pay the price for this, as our research in Chiapas, Mexico, showed. As soon as we arrived, we found ourselves in the middle of angry protests against Nestlé.

Eduardo Camarena, a coffee farmer in the Mexican state of Chiapas, had reached a low point in his life. He had to cope with personal strokes of fate, and things were not going well on his farm either. The plants didn't want to grow and he was struggling with a drought. Then came the "Nescafé Plan". "Taking part in it," says Camarena, beaming, while cheerful music plays in the background, "was the best decision of my life." The Nestlé agronomists taught him how to manage his business and improve the harvest. Yes, he has even become a better person. And most importantly: "I can now keep the promise I made to my late grandfather and continue to run the family farm."

February 2024 - nine years after the Nestlé advertising video was produced - on the "Ruta del Café", the country road along which one coffee farm follows another: around 200 farmers from all over the region met early in the morning to block the road outside Tapachula, the main town in the Soconusco coffee region. Their anger is directed against the Swiss food company. "Nestlé - company without ethics, drives Chiapas into poverty" is written on one banner, and on another: "When poverty is a fact, demonstrating is a right". Eduardo Camarena, the farmer in the Nescafé video, stands in front of burning coffee sacks with the words "Plan Nescafé" on them and shouts: "Plan Nescafé - pura mentira!", "Nescafé Plan - sheer lie!"

What happened?

The big promise

We meet Eduardo Camarena on the Ruta del Café, around an hour outside Tapachula, where a dusty little road interspersed with large blocks of stone leads to his finca "El Capricho" - a medium-sized coffee farm with 70 hectares of land. We climb into Camarena's pick-up, which is no longer brand new but still suitable for off-road driving. He immediately starts talking: "The big problem in the region is that we have all switched from Arabica to Robusta. Agronomists from Nestlé came to the region 14 years ago. They told us that they would support us if we planted Robusta, with training and high-yielding plants. We could double our income that way."

Robusta is the type of coffee that Nestlé primarily needs for the production of Nescafé instant coffee - it is a booming market. Robusta varieties are generally more resistant and easier to care for than Arabica varieties. On the other hand, they are considered to be of lower quality and fetch correspondingly lower prices.

"We are slaves to Nestlé"

Halfway to Camarena's farm, we meet a group of men, small farmers with a maximum of two or three hectares of land - like the vast majority of coffee producers in Soconusco and worldwide. They too have opted for Robusta. They are visibly upset, one of them complains:

"We live from coffee, we have families to feed! But the price Nestlé pays us doesn't work. In fact, we are slaves to Nestlé."

In fact, the switch to Robusta has made them totally dependent on the food giant. They are not obliged to sell to Nestlé. But apart from Nestlé, there are practically no buyers for their Robusta coffee in the region.

Nestlé does not procure the coffee directly, but through intermediary companies - in Tapachula these are mainly Casemex, EGOS and Merino - which buy the dried coffee cherries from the producers during the harvest period from October to March. Farmers with larger farms, such as Eduardo Camarena, bring their harvest to the companies' warehouses themselves, while small farmers usually sell it on the farm to a middleman, known as a "coyote", who organizes the transport to the intermediary companies. There, the beans are shelled and sold on to Nestlé. As a representative of EGOS confirmed to us, 100% of their coffee goes to Nestlé.

After three years of the Nescafé Plan: "End of the fiesta"

After the spontaneous stop at the small farmers, we drive on to Eduardo Camarena's finca "El Capricho". There he shows us his Nescafé plan documents: the conditions he has to fulfill as part of the 4C sustainability standard (see black box below), school documents, diplomas. He shows us a class photo with the "first generation of the Nescafé school": he and his 54 classmateswho come from all the southern states of Mexico. Over the course of three years, he attended courses, received Nestlé seedlings, Nescafé agronomistHe was even visited by a Nestlé manager from Switzerland. "And then," he says with a sarcastic undertone, "the fiesta was over."

He has invested a lot of money in converting his farm in order to meet the 4C requirements regarding working conditions and the environment. But the current prices don't add up: "Even without the expensive fertilizer, production costs me almost 30 pesos per kilo. But Nestlé pays less than that." The Nestlé courses ran under the title "Creating shared value in the coffee company". They aimed to train the farmers to become entrepreneurs, with the promise that they too would benefit. Camarena says bitterly:

"They have broken this promise."

Elmar Morales shares Camarena's experiences. The coffee farmer lives with his wife, their two young children and his parents on the family's finca. He also believed Nestlé's promises and became part of the "second generation" of Nescafé Plan farmers in 2012. He, too, is left with nothing but anger and frustration. It particularly pains him that his face and that of his mother were used on Nescafé labels with the claim that drinking this coffee would help the farmers in Chiapas to have a better life.

At the end of January 2024, Elmar Morales met with Eduardo Camarena and other coffee farmers to express their displeasure to the local media and write a letter of protest to Nestlé: The price of 26 Mexican pesos they currently receive for their coffee is completely inadequate. 35 pesos per kilo (1.80 francs, as of February 24) is the minimum required to cover the actual production costs.

The price is well below the previous year's price - even though the Robusta price on the globally authoritative London Stock Exchange climbed by 50% in the same period to its highest level in 30 years. Nestlé indicatesThe price should be based on developments on the international markets. In fact, a low price was often justified in the past with the low exchange price. Now that this is high, however, it apparently plays no role.

The low price is all the more problematic for farmers as they are currently struggling with a sharp rise in production and living costs. Those who can afford it are therefore holding back their coffee for the time being. However, many were forced to sell at the beginning of the harvest as they needed the money to finance the rest of the harvest.

Around 40 to 50 pesos per kilo would be needed to make a good living from growing coffee. However, asking such prices seems completely illusory in view of the current price war. As one farmer put it: "We are not asking for the pearls of the Blessed Virgin! All we are asking for is a price that allows us to live in dignity." However, in response to the protest letter, Nestlé initially declared that it was not responsible. The producers should address their concerns to the local intermediary companies.

On the morning of February 5, 25 coffee farmers gather outside the gates of Casemex to complain to the head of the company. Elmar Morales takes the floor. In an agitated voice, he says: "At the Nescafé school, they taught us to double our production. Then they dropped us. They taught us values, principles, ethics. Where has all the theory gone?" The Casemex boss listens to the farmers, a little pale but patiently. He confirms what has long been clear to everyone present: that he cannot change the price. This is set by Nestlé. However, he will pass on their complaints to the company and let them know as soon as he receives an answer.

A few days later, we are in a cab with small farmer Octaviano Morales Salas on the way to Villaflor, around an hour and a half away from Tapachula. 320 landowners live in the district, says the 70-year-old, who, like him, farm between half a hectare and 15 hectares of land. They all make a living from the Robusta coffee they produce for Nestlé. "El café de los pobres", the coffee of the poor, is what Octaviano Morales Salas calls it.

On this day, a "junta" takes place in Villaflor - a meeting held every two to three months at which representatives of the surrounding villages come together to discuss issues and make decisions. Today, the low price of coffee is also on the agenda. Around 40 people gradually arrive at the community hall. Octaviano Morales Salas takes the floor and laments the consequences of Nestlé's pricing policy.

"Because there's nothing left to earn from coffee, the young people all go to the USA. From our community alone, 180 have emigrated. Who else is going to cultivate our land? We are up to our necks in water. Nestlé is filling its pockets and leaving us in poverty."

After the meeting, the smallholder explains that it is too expensive for most farmers in the area to take part in 4C. They would have to fulfill conditions that would cause a lot of extra work and high costs. In theory, Nestlé pays a surcharge of 1.20 pesos per kilo (6 centimes) for 4C. However, according to Morales Salas, even this minimal surcharge remains mostly theoretical - in practice, buyers would push the price down again by complaining about quality, so that they would often still get the better price from the "Coyote". This is why most of them would prefer to sell to him. The middlemen with the eloquent name do not pay good prices either, but at least they do not impose any conditions on production. Many small farmers are also dependent on them because they grant them loans - albeit at usurious interest rates. This is because the money from coffee sales does not last until the next harvest, and very few of them have opportunities for additional income - so food is also scarce in July and August.

It is interesting to note that conventionally produced coffee also ends up with EGOS, Casemex and Merino via Coyote. These should actually guarantee that the coffee they buy is 4C-certified. They form so-called "4C units", which report directly to Nestlé and are therefore responsible for implementing the sustainability standard on the farms from which Nestlé sources coffee.

We wanted to confront the intermediaries and 4C certification offices with these allegations, but our inquiries remained unanswered despite repeated follow-up. Nestlé has also not answered our questions on this topic.

The coffee producerin Soconusco are currently struggling with many problems: Plagues of fungi and pests are repeatedly reducing their harvests, and they are increasingly feeling the effects of climate change. According to estimates, too little rainfall in 2023 led to a decline in the harvest of 10 to 15%. In addition, there is an acute shortage of labor for the coffee harvest and plantation maintenance. The workerstraditionally come from nearby Guatemala, where poverty is even worse than in Chiapas. They earn the equivalent of around 10 francs a day - a wage that the coffee farmers can barely afford and which makes the workers' work even more difficult.inside is almost not enough to live on. The staple food tortilla alone currently costs CHF 1.20 per kilo in Chiapas. At the moment, the peso is so weak that it is worthwhile for Guatemalans to buy it.It is hardly worth coming to Chiapas to work anymore. Many prefer to seek their fortune in the north of the country or in the USA anyway.

Toiling in a tropical paradise

We drive with Marbella Salas and her husband Luis Figueroa to their "ranchito", as they call their 5-hectare coffee farm. The smallholder points to a row of plants, all barely a meter high: "These are Nestlé's clones". She is replacing more and more of her traditional plants with the potentially higher-yielding cultivars. However, many coffee farmers in the region prefer the traditional plants, she explains. This is because the Nestlé seedlings bear little fruit if they are not fertilized - but many of them cannot afford the fertilizer. In her case, this is only possible because her husband also works in construction during the summer months. The clones also die quickly if there is too little rain, and they have to be replaced every eight to ten years, whereas the traditional plants can live for 50 years.

On the little road to their farm, we meet a man in his 60s, followed by a much younger one; both carry machetes. The older man is a small farmer and produces Arabica and Robusta for Nestlé on 2.5 hectares. While he chats with his neighbors Marbella Salas and Luis Figueroa, we talk to the young man, his worker. Like all the workers we meet, he is very reserved - in stark contrast to the farmers. Nevertheless, he quickly says: "I dream of emigrating to the USA this year." He is hoping for a work visa, as he doesn't have the money to pay for the trip. Five years ago, he worked on a large finca, but he only lasted two weeks. "On large farms, you have to get up at 4 a.m.," he explains, "and there's usually only water, beans and tortillas to eat." If you want to sleep on a mattress and with a blanket, you have to bring your own.

The misery of the workers in Soconusco was already documented in the Mexican-American film "Cosecha de Miseria" seven years ago. At a neighbor of Eduardo Camarena, a 4C farmer for Nescafé like him, the team of reporters uncovered inhumane conditions in the accommodation. On the Ruta del Café and the plantations, they also encountered children from Guatemala everywhere, picking coffee and lugging sacks of coffee weighing up to 50 kg.

Hard work for a pittance: the young man just wants to leave. © Damián Sánchez

Has the situation improved since then? "It's impossible to say," explains Julio García, consultant for the International Labor Organization (ILO) in Chiapas and author of a study on the subject. There are simply no figures. We don't encounter any scenes like those in the movie during our visit. However, the expert confirms our assumption that this is simply due to the fact that the harvest workers from Guatemala have stayed away this season - they traditionally bring their children to work with them. However, according to Julio García, the risk factors for child labor in the coffee sector in Chiapas have certainly not diminished.

The greatest risk continues to be the very low income of farmers, primarily due to the low coffee prices. As a result, child labor is widespread within families, particularly among small farmers in Chiapas and around the world. Many fall into a spiral of poverty with devastating consequences, from inadequate healthcare and a lack of educational opportunities to seasonal food insecurity.

Vera Espindola is a development economist, she worked as a coffee expert at the Mexican Ministry of Agriculture and now works for a specialty coffee company. "The prices that coffee producers receive - for both Arabica and Robusta - usually barely cover the production costs," she says. In most cases, they mean a life of poverty.

According to Espindola, the main reason for the low prices is the "fundamental information and power asymmetries between buyers and farmers". This imbalance has worsened over the last 15 years. This contrasts with the fact that coffee companies have launched countless voluntary sustainability programs and industry initiatives during this period, which have improved the living conditions of producers.should have improved. According to estimates, around 5.5 million coffee farmers worldwide - that is just under half - continue to live in poverty, and the vast majority of coffee growers are still in poverty.The number of people working inside the company is far from reaching a living wage. This is despite the fact that the right to such a wage, which covers the most important basic needs, is a human right enshrined in the UN Social Covenant. While coffee companies have been making more and more profits in recent years, the proportion of value added that goes to the producers is still very low.even fallen further. The workersThe employees inside are usually not even included in this calculation.

For Ric Rhinehart, coffee expert and former CEO of the Specialty Coffee Association, the global umbrella organization for specialty coffee, it is no surprise that these sustainability efforts have not borne fruit: "The promises are completely misleading, because the companies are using their own sustainability logic - which is geared towards squeezing maximum added value out of the farmers."

The negotiations with Nestlé - a farce

"Precio justo, precio justo!", "fair prices, fair prices!", echoed from the group of around 200 people who had gathered on the Ruta del Café in the early morning of February 15. After waiting in vain for a response from Nestlé, they emphasized their demand with a road blockade. Throughout the morning, they blocked the road on the outskirts of Tapachula, where the intermediary companies are located. In front of the local media cameras, they burn Nescafé Plan coffee bags and Nestlé Robusta seedlings.

The pressure works: a local government representative arrives and promises the protesters a meeting with Nestlé in Tuxtla Gutierrez, the capital of Chiapas. At the meeting ten days later, however, the coffee producers who had traveled from Tapachula were told that no one from Nestlé's purchasing department had turned up and that those present had no authority to discuss the price. However, they would receive an answer to their price demand in three days. This came right on time. It was: No.

The whole thing was "Una burla de Nestlé", says coffee farmer Julio Castillo, who was at the meeting, a farce. They spent the entire harvest season, from October to February, fighting for a fair price. As was the case last year, the price was gradually increased - but not to the minimum price demanded. Adjusted for inflation, the price is even lower than last year. But farmers are now being forced to sell: Slowly but surely, the coffee is spoiling and they are in danger of losing everything. Many also urgently need to pay off debts.

The farmers have run out of steam for now. Julio Castillo explains: "We are coffee farmers, we don't want to and can't spend our time arguing with Nestlé." All they are asking is that the Nescafé Plan becomes what it should be: a program in which coffee producers and the company work together for the benefit of all.

Castillo says they now want to use the months until the next harvest to organize themselves better so that this year's price tragedy is not repeated. But Eduardo Camarena says he is not very optimistic. He fears that Nestlé will intensify its aggressive low-cost purchasing policy and that the next harvest could be even worse due to the current drought. However, like most coffee producers in Soconusco, giving up is not an option for him. "I love coffee," he explains succinctly. What's more, most people here could not afford to switch to a different product.

What was that again in the Nescafé commercial? Eduardo Camarena has promised his grandfather that he will continue to run the farm. However, for this to be possible not only in the movie but also in real life, he would need neither courses in farm management nor highly cultivated seedlings, but actually only one thing: that the food giant from Switzerland pays him a price for the coffee that is enough to live on.