The Freedom to Leave Is Also Dignity

It was nighttime on the coffee farm, and our accommodation was a shack made of concrete and repurposed wood. Ten of us were seated in a circle under an exposed lightbulb that struggled to illuminate the living space.

This was a fellowship we had all been anticipating for months. These were the children of coffee farmers in Sierra Madre, and we didn’t just come for their parents. We came to hear their stories.

There’s a lot of pressure on the children of Filipino coffee farmers to carry on their parents’ legacy. Coffee is one of the Philippines’ most promising high-value crops. Many coffee farms, including these ones, have been passed down through generations. Coffee is their heritage. Their trees are old, wild, and reach into the sky. For many, a well-processed, fairly priced coffee is a symbol of hope.

There’s a problem the global coffee industry still hasn’t adequately addressed: farmers are getting older, and fewer young people want to take their place. Who will take over the heritage coffee farms of the Philippines?

A farm in fog, like a future still forming — the children of farmers stand between both.

On that evening, around a short, makeshift table, we laughed together, sharing stories of the culture, land, and history — our hands kept warm by mugs of instant coffee.

Then I asked the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” A harmless question, but a particularly heavy one in this community.

Two teenagers dreamed of studying agriculture and turning their parents’ farms into thriving businesses. They had it all mapped out — school, tuition, boarding, and everything. And it’s no wonder they were so drawn to specialty coffee. The local cooperative had invested in a greenhouse, drying beds, training, and were sending their coffee to national quality competitions. Another shared her excitement about growing new varieties — red and yellow bourbons, caturra. I felt relieved knowing that their farms would be taken care of. There was a future for Sierra Madre coffee.

Then one farmer’s daughter said something that caught me off guard…

“I want to be a computer scientist.”

Here’s why it surprised me. Her family owned one of the first coffee farms on the mountain range, and there wasn’t a single computer in their community. Admittedly, my first thought was doubt. Then came worry and confusion. But listening to her share her excitement about school and opportunities, I realized I had put her in a box.

My philosophy when it comes to the specialty coffee industry is that we exist, as The Better Coffee Standard now teaches, to bring dignity to humans along the entire coffee value chain. In many places around the world, farming is not a choice. It's a necessity. We all want the freedom to carve our own path. Dignity isn’t evaluated solely in green bean cost per kilo. It’s measured in degrees of freedom. So, that must include both the freedom to choose the farm — and also the freedom to leave it behind.

That’s why, when she told me her dream, I didn’t push back. I encouraged her to pursue it. My initial worries revealed a hidden prejudice I think exists in many of us who work in this industry. Perhaps we need to do away with structures that remove choice. Instead, let’s work to set up an infrastructure that allows people to choose coffee because they’re free to do so, because it fulfills them, and because it’s truly sustainable.

The Philippines is establishing its coffee infrastructure. My hope is that our model properly incentivizes coffee farming so that a career as a farmer looks like an attractive option. And maybe that model needs to expand so that people in non-traditional roles, like computer scientists, know they have a place in this industry too.