Chocolate. We canât
seem to get enough of it. Each year we consume seven
million tons of it worldwide. It comes in countless varieties and
prices ranges, made by anything from small artisanal chocolate makers,
to the international giants that dominate the market. And the whole
spectrum can be seen at confectionery trade fairs like this. But the
exhibitors are also here to teach children about where
chocolate comes from. Have you heard of Ivory Coast? Itâs
the biggest cacao-producing country in the world. The fruit of
the cacao tree is called a pod. Look how big it is. We take
good care of these plants. Surprisingly, there are critical voices at
the exhibition as well. Environmental organization Mighty Earth
is here to talk about the darker side of chocolate. If youâve consumed cocoa in the past
20 years, youâve probably supported child labor and slavery. Kids work in
the worst conditions, with dangerous chemicals, sharp machetes, and have
to carry very heavy loads. This has long been known
in the chocolate industry. But many companies still insist they
are doing what they can to protect children and the environment. The industry acknowledges the problems,
like deforestation and child labor on plantations. I assure you, they are
working hard to improve the situation. Over the last ten years, more and more
cocoa producers have pledged to save the forests and send children to
school instead of work. But are they? This is the harbor of Abidjan,
the economic capital of Ivory Coast. The West African country produces
40% of the worldâs entire cocoa supply. The trees that it comes from grow on small,
remote farms. There are around 6 million of these farms worldwide, and
they are mostly left to their own devices. Their harvest then goes through
a long supply chain of traders and manufacturers before it
ends up on our shelves. Iâm Paul Moreira,
a French television journalist, and Iâm interested in the
very first link of this chain. Much of the remaining rainforest in
the Ivory Coast lies in the south west, about an eight hour
drive from the capital. The region is known as
the countryâs âcocoa beltâ. Even as we approach the main road,
children run away when they see our camera. Itâs a sign weâre
getting close to the plantations. Why did you tell him to run
away? Is he working for you? No. So why send him away? Why are you filming? Child labor is forbidden in Ivory Coast,
punishable by up to six months in prison. But itâs rarely prosecuted,
as itâs shown too hard to prove. In the far west of the country,
the roads turn into wet, muddy dirt tracks. Militias patrol the area. They say
theyâre here to protect the people. They collect money from everyone who passes
through - especially the cocoa trucks. It costs 100 francs to pass,
sometimes 500. If you've got a full truck,
itâs 1,000 francs . This is the protected Goin-DĂ©bĂ© forest
reserve, 10km from the Liberian border. It used to be part of the species-rich
West Guinean lowland rainforest. But thereâs not much left of the forest
or the âprotectedâ animals. The land was cleared to make way for
thousands of illegal cocoa plantations. The green plants are all cacao
trees -the primary forest is dead. Officially, no one is even allowed to
enter this area without permission from the forest authority. But no
one is here to enforce the rules. These hidden camps
are lawless zones. The farmers are working illegally
on land that doesnât belong to them. Journalists aren't welcome here,
so we donât tell them what we do. Weâre accompanied by a member
of an NGO for human rights. Around 40 people live in this camp,
in huts. Men and children only. They drink water from the river
and eat bananas and manioc, that they grow in the forest themselves. They pick cacao pods and cut them
open with machetes, all day. It takes a lot of care and precision - the shells
are hard, and their blades sharp. Itâs the only way to extract the precious
beans still coated in a white fleshy pulp. The beans are dried, before theyâre
bagged up and sold to a cooperative. The workers are all very young.
About a third of them are children. Theyâre extremely poor - immigrants
from neighboring Burkina Faso. Their homeland is a country plagued
by drought, hunger and violence. The cocoa business in Ivory Coast
is often their only hope for survival. Dramane is 13 years old. Why donât you go to school? Why donât I go to school? Yes. I dropped out. His parents couldnât
afford it anymore. How did you end up here? I came with my older brother. Boubacar is the
youngest in this camp. What about you?
No school either? No,
I donât like school... I need to earn money. This forest should, in theory,
be monitored by Ivory Coastâs Ministry of Water and Forests. Do you ever see rangers here? Yes, but they leave us alone. The government does have an
official plan to save the rainforest. They want to redistribute the land,
reforest some of the areas that have been destroyed and use
legal farms more efficiently. More than 200,000 cocoa farmers
are meant to receive training. But next to nothing has actually
happened so far. Meanwhile, immigrants from Burkina Faso continue to arrive to
work on Ivory Coastâs illegal plantations. They come as children and stay for many
years. The forest becomes their prison. Aziz is just one
of its prisoners. Your parents stayed? Yeah, in Burkina Faso. You donât see them? No,
I havenât seen them for six years. You were 15 when
you arrived here? Yes, now Iâm 21. A long time without
your parents. Yes, itâs very painful. Have you been back? No, not once. Why not? This is the first year Iâve
actually started earning money. Itâs one of the darkest secrets
of these clandestine plantations. People like Aziz toil for years
without compensation. Only later do they get a small piece of land in return, to
grow their own harvest and keep any yields. He can finally make some money from
selling cocoa. This is how the camps in Goin-Débé operate: first the boys
work for food, then for payment-in-kind. Ali has also started working
on his first small plot of land. Your boss doesnât pay you? No. I didnât get any money until he
said Iâd worked enough for my own plot. You worked for
free for six years? Exactly.
- Thatâs slave labor. Yes, but thatâs just the way it is.
This year I harvested a bag and a half. A bag and a half - thatâs 180 kilograms,
which sells for 210 euros. Thatâs Aliâs new annual income. Ulisha has just arrived from Burkina Faso.
This is the start of his new life here. Someone sent him here. Can he tell me how
much money he makes? Heâll get paid.
- How much? The question is making
Ulisha uncomfortable. If he works then later
heâll receive his own plot. Okay. Right now heâs working for free,
heâs working towards getting his own plot. How old are you? Do you know how old you are? He doesnât know. Whereâs your boss? He was here but
he went into the city. The city of Guiglo is 40
kilometers east of the forest. Children from Burkina Faso whoâve
been sold by their parents arrive at this bus station to be bought
by plantation owners. To observe one of the transactions,
our NGO-helper pretends to be a farmer. Heâs wearing a hidden camera. He finds two traffickers at the station,
waiting for the children to arrive from Burkina Faso. They target
the most vulnerable ones, whoâll be willing to work just for food. They tell us
whoâs in charge of the business. The next day we meet the
âold manâ as heâs known here. Trust me, Iâll find kids for you,
no problem. Iâm willing to pay. Iâd be very happy to find
children for you. Iâll pay you a visit. Iâll be happy and so will
you. This will earn you a profit. The parents get 200,000 francs. Youâll send the 200,000 to the parents?
- Sure. How long can they work for me? Three,
four years? Theyâll stay for three,
maybe two. I canât pay more than 200,000. Donât worry,
theyâre not all the same price. Humans have different prices? Like sheep,
theyâre not all worth the same. Finish your coffee,
Iâll get the children. Right now?
- Of course! Okay. 200,000 West African CFA
francs are worth roughly 300 euros. Thatâs the cost of one slave for three
years. While our guide has a coffee, the âold manâ gets a tip-off that
there are journalists investigating the illegal plantations.
He calls off the deal. The young workers have no idea
of the dangers they face at the cocoa plantations. One of the worst
is invisible: toxic herbicides. You work in the fields? We come across a lot of children
wearing big weed sprayers on their backs, often working without a mask.
We want to find out what theyâre spraying. Isnât that harmful for you?
- No. You wonât get sick?
- No. What do you pour in
there? Does it have a red lid? Yes.
-The red lid means itâs poisonous. The bottles with the red
lid contain weed killer. Itâs sold everywhere.
But whatâs it made of? No idea what it
is... Itâs Chinese. To find out more about this weed killer,
we go further into the forest, to another illegal plantation.
The deeper we push, the more we begin to realize
why the forest is dying out. Whatâs that for? It kills weeds. First you poison everything,
then you plant cocoa? Yes,
we spray this stuff everywhere. Do the children who work
here use this product as well? Yes. Itâs glyphosate,
do you know what that is? We know the name but
we donât know what it does. We just kill weeds
and plant cocoa. Glyphosate is a broad-spectrum
herbicide that kills almost all plants. The World Health Organization
has identified it as a âprobable carcinogenâ. Especially when
applied without appropriate protection. Has no-one told you that
it might be dangerous? No. We didnât know it was harmful,
or possibly even deadly. When you see the protective gear on the
packaging, doesnât it make you wonder? We know we need
protection to use this product, but we donât have any,
so we just make do without it. That's how you make
room to plant cacao beans? Thatâs right. Once the vegetation has
been destroyed, cocoa grows quickly. What do you do to the
trees? Theyâre all white. We set them on fire,
we use dry wood to burn them down. Then you have more
space for cocoa? Exactly. Cacao trees rely on the fertile soils
of the forest. But theyâre also leaching them dry. The environmental organization
Mighty Earth documents the destruction. Once cacao arrives, it takes over
the forest as a full-sun monoculture. Masses of chemicals are sprayed
all over. 20 years later the ground is worthless so they push deeper into
the forest and do the same thing again. They keep moving further in. Thatâs
why I say the cacao plant is a cannibal. Between 1990 and 2015 over 90% of
Ivory Coastâs primary forests were cleared. Theyâve mostly been replaced with cacao
trees. This continual deforestation is having an
impact on the local, and global, climate. Less forest means less
rain. And without rain, nothing will be able to grow here,
not even cocoa. As the soil dries up, so does a
vital source of income in the region. Within a week in the Goin-Débé forest,
we witnessed all the crimes the industry pledged to eradicate,
including slave labor, child labor and the
destruction of the environment. However, every day, tons of illegal
beans enter the regular supply chain. The people who buy them
up like to keep a low profile. But we find a trading post at the
edge of the forest, that buys both legal and illegal produce. These bags
come from at least 40 different farmers. Thereâs no marking on the bags to say
where they came from. Theyâre opened and the beans are all mixed together.
Completely impossible to track. One of the biggest cooperatives
in the region, Coopaweb, used to work under
the Fair Trade label. Displaying this logo means
opposing child labor and deforestation. In 2017,
Coopaweb had its certification suspended. Was their cocoa being grown
in the protected rainforest? We have hardly any business partners in
the classified rainforest. Itâs marginal. When these trucks arrive with dozens
of bags like these, are you sure none of them come from the areas where
child labor or deforestation are taking place? Letâs be honest,
we saw child labor everywhere -- within the classified zone,
outside the zone, everywhere. It depends what
you call âchild laborâ. A man who takes his kids to the
field on Sundays, is that child labor? No.
- Thatâs not child labor. But a boy from Burkina Faso whoâs been
here 5 years, thatâs child labor right? So far I havenât heard of such cases
of kids working for one of our partners. How can you be sure? We inspect our
producers every year. The supply chain for chocolate
is anything but transparent. What exactly happens between
the forest and our supermarkets? The cocoa you process, where does it
go? How does it work? Whoâs buying? Exporters.
- Who? Exporters!
- Like who? Nestlé? Exporters from Ivory Coast. The Coopaweb manager
wonât tell us who he sells to. We come back in the evening,
and a driver spills the beans. Are those for Cargill?\- Yes, Cargill. Both?\- Yes. Coopaweb sells its cacao beans to
Cargill - a giant U.S. conglomerate that trades agricultural commodities,
among other things. Itâs an intermediary that sells cocoa to
the chocolate makers whose products we see in our supermarkets. Many
people havenât even heard the name before. Surprisingly we managed to
get an interview with Cargill. They usually prefer
to stay under the radar. Who do you sell the cocoa to?
That you get from Ivory Coast? To many big companies,
Iâm not sure exactly. NestlĂ©, Mars, Lidl,
Hershey... and some others. Without knowing it, most of us are
eating cocoa products from Cargill. The company promises that it supplies
âclean cocoaâ... but we have our doubts. We confront the manager and
his PR officer with our images. We only stayed for a few days and
we saw children on the roadside working with machetes and weeding
with dangerous herbicides. Thatâs terrible. You should already
know about this! Child labor is something we do
our best to prevent within the certified cooperative organizations that are part
of our sustainable development network. For sustainable cocoa,
we offer a 50 percent premium, compared to the price of conventional
beans. So 50% goes to the cooperative. Who do you hand the cash to? Physically? The boss. Are you sure the money
being is redistributed? The cooperative is run by
well-trained people... our system works. At Cargill, we're committed to quality. The promise commits us take make
a difference to the lives... In return for the 50 percent premium,
these cooperatives are supposed to actively improve the lives of farmers.
By building schools, for instance. This is a promise that
Coopaweb has also committed to. Is it hard to verify where children
are being forced into labor? We have to build a school
this year in one of our sections. Oh you do? For Coopaweb? For Coopaweb.
- Where? The location has already been chosen
but weâd rather keep it confidential. Next year, if you come,
Iâll show you where. I hope itâll be there. It will be there (inshallah) Whyâs the location secret? Nothingâs been built yet. Because heâs lying! He didnât tell the truth?
- Seems so. I canât promise that things are running
better in our industry than elsewhere. Cargill also pledged to no longer
destroy the rainforest to grow cocoa. They promised that by 2030 there would
be 0 deforestation in the supply chain. Deforestation is a key issue for us,
without the forest, there's no rain. And without rain we have no cacao trees,
no beans, no chocolate. This sounds wonderful, but you do
business in one of the most deforested places in West Africa. Yes itâs very difficult. Deforestation in
Ivory Coast between 1960 to 2010 was... 90 percent. And when we arrived in 2010, the figure
was already 80%. Things need to change. How can you be sure that the cocoa
Coopaweb is selling you doesnât come from the classified forest,
which is basically a lawless zone, where unspeakable
things are happening. Weâve implemented a system that enables
us to identify producers we work with. They are GPS tagged with a barcode.
We collect all this in a database, which allows us to link
the product to the producer. This system is mentioned on Cargillâs
website. Barcodes on bags, a scanner with satellite connection that offers
state-of-the-art GPS traceability. The problem is: this footage is from Ghana,
not Ivory Coast. Iâm sorry but I spent
a week in this area, I didnât see a single bag with a barcode.
Coopaweb didnât have a single one. That information doesnât
match what I have here. We asked the Coopaweb manager
about the possibility of using technology to identify the farmers
and track the bags. How can we know whether it actually
comes from the classified forest? We need a GPS position. But who
can help us with that? The state? Do you know how they do it in Ghana?
In Ghana, theyâre facing the same issues. Each bag has a barcode with GPS
identification that links to the producer. It can work like that.
Could you make it happen? If they can do it in Ghana,
we should be able to do it here. I didnât get a confirmation
about these barcodes... maybe, itâs the old system
but it is definitely certified. Weâre talking about
the worst practices here. No doubt weâre not perfect. Iâm not saying that weâve found
the perfect solution, but we are trying. After the interview,
we receive an angry message from Cargill. They checked and have
to admit we were right. There are no barcodes on the
bags from the Goin-Débé forest. But they assure us that 99
percent of farmers are registered and everything should be
straightened out within a year. All these issues, deforestation,
slave labor, child labor, it all comes down to one thing: traceability. Without
traceability, itâs all blur, itâs all in the shadows. We donât know who
to hold accountable. Everyone is hiding. As soon as we know who sells what,
to whom, when, where and how, then, all of a sudden, we have something that works.
We can hold people accountable for this child in particular, for this case of
slave labor, for this deforestation. And so we can fix the problem.
Traceability is the key to everything. We also want to explore areas of the
Ivory Coast where cocoa grows legally, rather than on secret plantations
in the classified rainforest. In 2012, the Ivory Coastâs government
launched its first National Action Plan to crack down on child labor. Its third
and latest plan has expanded to include supply chain traceability and
illegal plantations in classified forests. Itâs allocated a little over 100
million euros for the daunting task. Kouamé Assoman works for one of
the NGOs implementing the program at the local level. Our role is to help children in
trouble. Children being abused, sent to slave away on cocoa plantations.
Those are the ones weâre here to help. I work with the Ministry of Family to
raise awareness in these villages about the child exploitation that
takes place within cocoa farming. Children in Ivory Coast often help their
parents in the fields on the weekends. Thatâs not illegal. KouamĂ© is targeting families who
donât even send their children to school. He works for a small NGO
funded by international donors. He himself was a buyer
for the cocoa cooperatives. So he understands why the
farmers rely on their childrenâs help. They help you to pick
up the pods that fall, right? Yes they pick up the pods. You need to understand that these
children shouldnât be doing this work. If cocoa farming paid well then
everyone here could afford to send their kids to school. When I explain to
them that children need to go to school they tell me theyâd love that but
they simply canât afford it. There are farmers with four or five children and
no money to put them through school... they donât know what else to do. The only way to put children through school
on a cocoa farmerâs salary is to make sacrifices elsewhere. Mr. Zongo has been working in
the cocoa business for 30 years. Heâs very proud of his son Guelilou,
who will soon go to college. He helps his dad during
the school vacations. So youâre studying?
- Thatâs right. What subject? Iâm going to start history this year. I
just graduated from high school and Iâll continue my studies at college.
Paying the tuition fees is very difficult. I can manage the first
installment, but the cocoa earnings will only last for two months.
Then thereâs nothing left. Next to Guelilou is his little brother.
He doesnât go to school at all anymore. His dad had to make a choice - it
was either Guelilou or his brother. We donât have enough money. Last year,
we made 700 francs a day, this year 750... Thatâs not enough. Weâre
too exhausted and too poor. We work our fingers to the
bone. We have nothing left to give. Thereâs no money. My children
help me out where they can. Do you go to school?
- Not anymore. If your dad could afford it,
would you rather go to school or work? The chocolate industry turns over
more than 100 billion euros a year. Meanwhile, itâs estimated that a cocoa
farmer earns less than one euro a day. Would raising the price of cocoa
beans put an end to child labor? Could the solution
really be that simple? Thatâs a question we wanted to put to
the representatives of the industry. We travel to Davos, a small town in
Switzerland thatâs known for hosting large, international business events.
Every two years, Swiss chocolate manufacturer Barry Callebaut invites
the cocoa industryâs leaders to the conference Chocovision. Since 2012
theyâve declared it their goal to end the abject poverty in
cocoa-producing countries. Barry Callebaut notified us by e-mail
that we were not welcome at the event. We go along anyway in the hope of
meeting some people we can talk to - after all,
they claim to promote âtransparencyâ. But the hotel security
has strict orders. No camera. HNo finger on the camera. Weâre outside the hotel,
let us work, please. No, donât cause any trouble, ok? If youâre going to cause trouble,
Iâll notify the police immediately. Go right ahead, call the police. No camera here! We stay on the sidewalk. Minister, a question please? A former Minister from Ghana almost
talks to us but is quickly led away. Weâre starting to become a nuisance,
so they send us someone to interview as long as we promise
to leave afterwards. Is the camera a problem? No, itâs... I mean, camera is the
problem but that comes on top of the fact that in principle, weâre not
allowing any additional journalist, other than the ones that weâve
already spoken to. But listen, letâs agree youâre going to send me your questions
and Iâm going to reply as soon as possible. The burning question is: why is
nothing changing? Back in 2001 the big chocolate makers committed to end
child labor. That was almost 20 years ago. Traders and manufacturers set up the
lobby group âWorld Cocoa Foundationâ that was supposed to improve
conditions - both social and environmental. Simple solutions are very hard to find
for something as complicated as the child labor phenomenon.
- But we all agree that the solution of paying more to the growers h
as not been implemented yet? Weâre looking at ways to scale up
approaches to how farmers can improve their income. 18 years have passed and youâre still
looking at what to do in the future... still nothing has been done
that can effectively stop poverty. I wouldnât say that
nothing is being done. As Iâve mentioned before, we have
companies that are committed to paying premiums to farmers to help
them increase their income levels. The cocoa business is worth
a total of 100 billion dollars. The growers get just six percent
of that. Do you think thatâs enough? What I can say is that this is
not unusual for commodities. If you think of cotton, I mean,
how much does a cotton farmer get compared to how much we pay for a pair of
jeans or any other article of clothing that is made from cotton. So this is
not something thatâs specific to cocoa. Ok, so weâll meet in 20
years and see whatâs going on. Okay.\-Every 20 years, Iâll come back. Hopefully, sooner than that. The power doesnât rest solely in
the hands of the chocolate makers. What about the lawmakers? Chocolate
is a widely consumed product in Europe. So we pay a visit to the
European parliament in Brussels. Astoundingly, thereâs for sanction
on illegal practices within the cocoa supply chain. Heidi Hautala, an MEP from Finland,
has regular meetings with manufacturers. A third of the workers
there are children. Yes itâs a tragedy. We are busy preparing an action plan
on what to do with cocoa so that cocoa would no longer cause deforestation
and child labor. And what is really remarkable is that more and more
companies are saying that we need this mandatory due diligence and obligation,
we need law.In former times, you would have said that companies are masochistic,
that they are asking for law, yes. But they want what they
call a level playing field because they donât want to be irresponsible,
and then they see that the irresponsible companies are reaping the profits for
a cheap price. So thatâs the question, because to be responsible
may cost a little more. Are you facing a lobby that
you have to fight against? Well, if I may, I would just like to
show you an example that of course, there is this kind of fancy side of the
industry but thereâs not a word about these huge human rights issues and
environmental issues that are hidden in the supply chain of chocolate.
So I was invited to this reception, but I just couldnât go
because this is not honest. A simple question is
why donât they pay more? I donât have a good answer to that. But
everybody who works on the problems of cocoa say that, yes, you can maybe,
you can come into terms with deforestation and child labor, but there is the
deep deep question of living wage. I think itâs a terrible thing that we
can taste these fancy chocolates here in Brussels but then a simple cocoa
worker in Cote dâIvoire probably didnât even taste chocolate,
because itâs too expensive. Itâs a luxury product, out of their reach.
So living wage is the real issue. Itâs so simple: If they had
just a little more money, then more of their
children could go to school. Back in Ivory Coast,
in the village of âTroya 2â, farmers are investing the little money
they make in their childrenâs future. Theyâve all chipped in to hire a
teacher. 200 children attend this class. When we see children going to the fields,
we tell their parents to send them to school instead. We take
kids between the ages of 6 to 9. How do you get paid?
- I get paid each month. By the parents?
- By the parents. They all chip in?
- Yes. The state doesnât contribute?
- No. Because the state canât afford to hire
teachers in poor remote areas like this? Thatâs right. In 2019, Ghana and Ivory Coast joined
forces and decided to set the price of cocoa themselves,
the way the OPEC countries do for oil. The exporting countries demanded
the industry pay 30% more to the farmers. That only translates into
30 cents per family, per day. But itâs hopefully one small
step towards a bigger change.
Excellent watch.