Bitter Truths Behind Davao’s ‘Sweet Gold’ Rush

By Louis ‘Barok‘ C. Biraogo — June 15, 2025

IN THE rolling hills of Davao, where cacao trees sway under the tropical sun, farmers like Jose Saguban, 62, graft hope onto aging trunks, dreaming of a sweeter future. Davao, crowned the “Cacao Capital of the Philippines” by Republic Act 11547 in 2021, produces 80% of the nation’s 12,000 metric tons of cacao annually. Yet, beneath the glossy promise of a cacao boom—fueled by soaring global demand—lies a bitter reality: systemic failures that trap smallholder farmers, indigenous communities, and women in cycles of poverty and exploitation. When a farmer’s harvest rots from pod rot while chocolatiers profit, that’s not an agricultural challenge—it’s a moral failure.

The Broken Promise of Boom

The Davao Region Cacao Industry Development Council (DRCIDC) aims to double production within a decade, touting demonstration farms and regenerative agriculture as the path forward. But the rhetoric of abundance clashes with grim realities. Yields in Davao City have plummeted 30–50% due to soil degradation, rising input costs, and land conversion. Farmers like Saguban, earning less than ₱10,000 monthly—below the poverty line for 81.9% of cacao growers—face a cruel paradox: global prices soar, yet their costs outpace gains. “The market is there, demanding more,” says DRCIDC’s Toto Muyco, but production lags, crippled by pests, climate shocks, and nutrient-depleted soils, remnants of Typhoon Pablo’s devastation in 2012.

The push for regenerative agriculture, meant to restore soil health and reduce chemical inputs, sounds noble but falters on the ground. Smallholders, reliant on synthetic fertilizers due to the high cost of organic alternatives, struggle to adopt sustainable practices without upfront support. Meanwhile, the “Cacao Capital” branding—bolstered by firms like Kennemer Foods—risks funneling profits to corporate players while farmers toil for crumbs. Middlemen exploit price volatility, buying beans at rates that barely cover labor. The DRCIDC’s demonstration farms, slated for 2025, promise replicable models, but reports of abandoned post-assistance monitoring raise doubts about their impact. When ambition outpaces accountability, the boom becomes a mirage for those who need it most.

Those Left Behind

Aging Farmers and a Youth Exodus

Cacao farming is aging out. With 66.2% of farmers aged 56–65, and youth fleeing for urban jobs, the industry faces a demographic crisis. Saguban’s children, like many, see no future in fields plagued by low returns and climate risks. Land conversion pressures—driven by more lucrative crops or urban sprawl—further erode cacao’s footprint, threatening livelihoods. Fair trade mechanisms, which could stabilize incomes, remain scarce, leaving farmers vulnerable to exploitative supply chains. The Saloy Organic Farmers Association offers a glimmer of hope, showing how collectives can secure better prices, but such models are outliers in a fragmented system.

Indigenous Communities at Risk

In Paquibato, Auro Chocolate’s inclusive model partners with indigenous groups, weaving cacao into post-conflict recovery. Yet, across Davao, land encroachment looms as cacao’s value spikes. Indigenous communities, like the Kanawan Aytas, face displacement risks if expansion prioritizes profit over rights. Agroforestry programs offer potential, but scaling them demands culturally sensitive policies that prioritize land tenure security over corporate interests. Without these, the “Cacao Capital” risks becoming a synonym for exclusion.

Women’s Undervalued Labor

Women, comprising 44.2% of cacao farmers, dominate post-harvest tasks like fermentation, yet their labor is systematically undervalued. Paid less and often excluded from decision-making, they bear the brunt of gender gaps in access to land, credit, and training. Initiatives like the Saloy cooperative empower women, but broader systemic change—such as targeted subsidies or leadership programs—remains elusive. When women’s contributions are sidelined, the industry’s growth is built on inequity.

A Roadmap to Justice

Davao’s cacao boom can sweeten lives, but only with bold, accountable reforms. First, scale agroforestry systems, like coconut-cacao-banana models, which boost yields by 20–30% while enhancing biodiversity, as seen in Davao de Oro’s pilot projects. These systems mitigate climate risks—crucial after Typhoon Pablo’s legacy—and reduce reliance on chemical inputs. Second, strengthen farmer cooperatives, emulating Saloy’s success in collective bargaining to bypass middlemen and secure fair prices. Third, enforce transparent audits of RA 11547’s implementation to ensure subsidies reach smallholders, not just corporate players. The Department of Agriculture’s High-Value Crops Program must prioritize marginalized farmers, with clear metrics for impact.

Policy accountability is non-negotiable. The DRCIDC’s demonstration farms must be paired with sustained extension services, not abandoned post-launch. To combat deforestation from cacao expansion, enforce strict land-use regulations and incentivize shaded farming. For indigenous communities, secure land rights and expand models like Auro’s, which integrate cultural preservation with economic gain. For women, targeted training and microfinance can close gender gaps, ensuring their labor fuels progress, not exploitation. Finally, youth engagement—through tech-driven farming and fair wages—can reverse the exodus, securing the industry’s future.

Davao’s cacao may sweeten global palates, but will it ever sweeten the lives of those who grow it? The answer hinges on whether leaders choose justice over headlines, ensuring that farmers like Jose Saguban aren’t left grafting hope onto a broken system.