Why El Salvador isn’t bringing back coffee

Álvaro Castro:

There's this lady, she lives alone in the farm, but about a month ago she calls me and says, can you please give me a job, because I'm not selling anything, because she sells eggs from chickens that she's got.

James Harper:

This is Álvaro, our economist from the last series. His mother owns a coffee farm in the same corner of El Salvador where this woman lives.

Álvaro Castro:

And this lady, she's asking me because she knows that my mom will not pay.

James Harper:

Alvaro's mother wants to employ more people, but can't. This coffee farm, like many in El Salvador, is not making any money. Álvaro, on the other hand, is.

Álvaro Castro:

I'm a financial analyst for a multinational company, but I have always worked in banks, and just been a little cog in this big capitalist machine, and that's all.

James Harper:

When this woman calls him and asks for a job in his mother's unprofitable coffee farm, he's torn.

Álvaro Castro:

I sort of have a sense of responsibility, in the sense of nobody's going to give them a job. No one. And some of them have lived in the farm or around the farm their whole life, and they know me since I'm a child, and I've known them.

And I just didn't have that much money, but I was like, yeah, sure, just start Monday. So 15 days go by, I pay her, and I told her, look, I don't have any more money. And they don't earn that much, but I just didn't have it.

James Harper:

Trump is building a wall because this woman, and tens of thousands like her, can't find work. Alvaro's mother's farm is middle-sized, not massive, not tiny. This middle-sized farm sums up El Salvador's relationship to coffee.

It did well for a long time, and then it collapsed, and the future is looking bleak. And deep in the story is our economist Alvaro. He holds the key to saving this farm.

Álvaro Castro:

And I'm trying to stay in coffee in one way or another. It's difficult.

James Harper:

And there are thousands of Alvaros who could bring coffee back to El Salvador and give Trump fewer reasons to build a wall. But they're not, and I'm going to show you why. I'm James Harper, and this is Filter Stories, the untold stories hidden in your cup of coffee.

To understand why Alvaro doesn't want to be in coffee today, we have to go right back to the beginning of the farm. And the first thing you need to know about Alvaro's mother's farm is that it's actually his father's farm. So Alvaro's mother's farm was built in the mid-1990s, and it was built by Alvaro's father.

Álvaro Castro:

I just wanted to show you something.

James Harper:

When we sat down for an interview, one of the first things Alvaro shows me is a picture on his phone.

Álvaro Castro:

Okay, this is my father's grave.

James Harper:

Do you read Spanish? Yeah, I can read Spanish. Alvaro's father came from a poor working class family.

He had six siblings. But he eventually becomes a lawyer, a rare example of social mobility in this country. And in the late 50s, Alvaro's father and grandfather plough their savings into a sizable chunk of land.

My dad's farm used to have a soccer field.

Álvaro Castro:

And they employed enough people to have two sides playing against one another. It used to employ around, at least in the worst of cases, about 20 people year-round, like fixed.

James Harper:

This farm is emblematic of El Salvador's coffee sector. They both peak in the late 70s. But just a few years later, Alvaro's father's farm and the coffee sector begin their march downwards.

The country is gripped by civil war, and Alvaro's father passes away.

Álvaro Castro:

He died in the early 80s. Yeah, a long time ago. So my mom inherited the farm, and she knew nothing about the farm.

She had been there like three times.

James Harper:

But to his mother's credit, she does a pretty impressive job. She keeps the farm alive throughout the 80s, during the civil war. She survives the global coffee price crash of the early 90s.

Her boys grow up. One becomes a doctor in America. The other, Alvaro, is an economist.

But in the late 90s, the heat gets turned up one more time. And so there was a price crash in the early 90s. Yes.

That was a bad one. And then there was a price crash in the early 2000s.

Álvaro Castro:

Yeah, that's the one I remember more vividly, because that's when my mom went broke. What's that story? One of the many coffee prices came, and she ended up mismanaging the farm and mismanaging money and using her credit cards to finance an agricultural operation.

And that put her in so much debt. And my brother, he sends money to my mom so she can pay the loan. Still?

Yeah. Those credits are from about 10 years ago. He's still paying.

James Harper:

The early 2000s is the time when making money from coffee in El Salvador gets a lot harder. You see, back in the 70s and 80s, coffee prices were quite high because of an agreement amongst growing countries that limited supply. But in the late 80s, this broke down.

And then 10 years later, Vietnam came out of nowhere to become the second largest coffee producer in the world. They flooded the market with cheap beans. Nowadays, to survive in El Salvador, especially, you need to be quite business savvy.

Álvaro Castro:

I think that the future of the coffee industry in this country is pure, differentiated coffee. Think organic or... Special, specialty coffee, you know, the one at the top.

James Harper:

And to succeed, there's one thing you need above all else.

Álvaro Castro:

But yeah, but to do that, you need capital.

James Harper:

Alvaro's mother's farm looks like what many farms look like in El Salvador, which haven't received investment in decades. He tells me this story. I was with my wife, we had just married.

A few years ago, Alvaro was really keen to show his newly wedded wife the family farm. I was with Chuz. When they get to the farm, they met Chuz, a longtime farm worker.

Álvaro Castro:

He knew my grandparents, my parents. And he told me, look, I have been telling your mom about this and she doesn't listen. So please, let's go.

So we went. They set out on foot and walked past row after row of coffee trees. It's like really, really deep into the mountain.

James Harper:

Alvaro's wife is asking questions about his childhood and what it was like growing up. They huff their way to the top of the farm and then stop.

Álvaro Castro:

And the trees, they were covered in beruco. Beruco is, it's a plague. It's a plant that covers them.

They look like corpses. You know, they were sort of crucified with all the beruco. And my wife was just like, she just went silent.

And she talked a lot. And from that moment on, she has tried to convince me to just, yeah, just throw the towel.

James Harper:

The farm is in such a state, Alvaro's mother can't even sell it.

Álvaro Castro:

Oh, yeah, I know this guy. He visited my mom's farm trying to buy it, but the thing was so beat up that he didn't want to buy it anymore.

James Harper:

Some wealthy coffee farmers are buying land, but not around Alvaro's mother's farm.

Álvaro Castro:

Nobody's buying. My mom has tried to sell that against my will for years. Nobody is buying that thing.

So what happens to all these farms? They're abandoned. They're just jungles.

Half my farm is a jungle. You know, one day my mom's going to die and I'm going to inherit the farm. That will be my last chance to sort of rebuild it.

James Harper:

Today, Alvaro, like many high earning Salvadorans, have access to money to get into coffee farming, to give jobs and to give Trump fewer reasons to build the wall. And there are so many reasons people like Alvaro want to do it. They want to be proud of their country.

Álvaro Castro:

It's an engine, not only for economic growth, but it's part of your identity. It's part of being Salvadorian. It's great for the environment.

Obviously, shade-grown coffee is environmentally relevant.

James Harper:

And this matters because El Salvador is the second most deforested country in Central America and the Caribbean. We're second behind Haiti. Coffee farms might also help against the gangs.

It gives you a job. It keeps you busy. It keeps you out of the gangs.

And then there's the other side. Coffee growing today in most countries is so unprofitable, banks aren't interested.

Álvaro Castro:

They don't lend to coffee growers anymore. They think it's too risky. And I understand that.

For them, it's not a charity. It's a business. And for bankers, they won't do it.

James Harper:

But this shouldn't be a problem for Alvaro because he's been a banker most of his life. He knows what to say to get a loan. The key that's holding him back from investing in his father's farm is climate change.

Álvaro Castro:

There's this scientific study that said that by 2050, climate change will be so harsh. In 31 years, you will only be able to grow coffee from 1,500 meters up. That will make it impossible for my farm to grow coffee because I'm at 1,300.

And the amount of land that will be suitable for coffee in El Salvador will be just a small percentage. I just have a question for you. How many of the growers that you have interviewed are around my age?

They're all old. Exactly.

James Harper:

So during our interview, I mentioned to Alvaro that I met many older coffee farmers who own small farms. They didn't want to give up, despite literally living on rice and beans. But there were some younger farmers too, and they were eager to continue.

And I told Alvaro that, frankly, I think they're naive. They don't see it from a financial… They're very idealistic about the…

They don't see the realities. Sorry. My little observation strikes a nerve with Alvaro.

It reveals how hard it is for him to remove coffee from his life completely.

Álvaro Castro:

It's about seeing it as a business. But I say that because I also try to convince myself and to detach myself. Do you know what I mean?

James Harper:

Oh, so you saw yourself in my comment.

Álvaro Castro:

I saw a younger version of myself in your comment. And there's a part of that that's still here inside. And I just try to get rid of it, and it's hard.

James Harper:

If Alvaro gives up on coffee, he's severing a connection to a father who passed away in between him learning to walk and learning to run.

Álvaro Castro:

It's what I grew up in. And my dad did that, so how can I not do it? How can I not do it in some sort of way?

James Harper:

Alvaro has since told me that he will keep the farm, but he's going to invest a considerable amount of money diversifying it away from coffee. Cocoa for chocolate, timber, pulses, vegetables. Crops that can better handle climate change.

And the woman who called Alvaro asking for a job? She has since found a job in a neighbouring farm. But those younger, poorer farmers I mentioned earlier who wanted to stay in coffee?

They are still in a pickle. But the good news is that there are coffee roasters who buy directly from these younger, poorer farmers. And I've made a list of them.

You can find it at marginalizedfarmers.org. I use the term marginalized because these producers don't have very much money and as a result, don't have many options. So roasters who buy from them directly offer them a sustainable price and that helps them invest in their farm and also give their kids a better education.

I should also mention that these roasters aren't necessarily speciality coffee roasters. And marginalizedfarmers.org has nothing to do with fair trade. If you want a deeper understanding of the situation for marginalized farmers, I recommend checking out two series from Filter Stories, Big and Small in El Salvador and Is Your Coffee Building Trump's Wall?

I couldn't decide whether to spell marginalizedfarmers.org with a Z or an S, you know, Americans, Brits. So I got both websites. Thank you for taking the time to check it out.

So thanks for listening. I'm hard at work on a new series and I hope to drop it in a month or two. You know how it is.

These things take forever. But in the meantime, I wanted to recommend this cool podcast player I came across called Castbox. The reason I recommend it is because, well, for one, it's very easy to use.

Like the Apple podcast player. You never knew when a new episode dropped. Oh, and Spotify is even worse.

And the other cool thing. So Castbox has this community of people and they all discuss their favorite shows. And it helps me learn more about you because I can see what other things you like to listen to.

So I see that listeners of Filter Stories are also listening to, for example, the audiobook of Karl Marx's Communist Manifesto. Does that mean I'm a communist? Does that mean you're a communist?

Are we communists? Whatever. But what that tells me is that you are very socially aware, conscientious listeners.

So yeah, check out Castbox. There's a link in the episode description. I want to give a shout out to Dom Edgley for mixing the piano music.

He's a Berlin-based sound professional. If you need a sound guy, you can find him at domedgleysound.com. And the Filter Stories logo was created by Headquarters, a branding and packaging design team.

You can find more of their work at headquarters.studio. Thank you so much. And until next time.