Oliver Benjamin
“No,” she replied, “I’m just…”
“Look. All we can do is buy what they offer us. We can’t tell
people in other countries how to run their farms. However, if the
farm owners get more prosperous, they can afford to pay the workers
more.”
“Sure. When has that ever happened? The farm owners will pay
exactly as little as they possibly can. And in nearly all cases, that’s just
enough to keep them alive. You’re not actually doing anything to help
them.”
“But what can we do? Demand that they pay their workers more?
That they give them dental benefits?”
“Why not?”
“Ellie, sugarbaby, there’s no shortage of demand for coffee. It’s
the second-most traded commodity after oil. If we don’t buy from
them, somebody else will. Right now, there are only two ways to
change the status quo in those countries: a unanimous boycott by the
buyers, or a unanimous strike by the workers. You can bet your ass
that neither of those will happen. In the meantime, we’ll have to wait
for these countries to slowly get rich enough to be able to install and
police minimum wage and welfare policies, maybe unions.”
Ellie grimaced. “But if those countries get rich and unionized,
you won’t buy coffee from them any more. It’ll be cheaper to buy
from the poorer ones.”
Morris smiled at his wife. He liked that she was clever. She
understood that the world operated on sound mechanical principles,
not bong vapors like love and hope and peaceful organic vegetables.
“Things are tough all over,” Morris said, indicating the lack of a
solution.
Ellie looked around the monstrous den in which they were
sitting. “I can’t complain,” she replied. “And I don’t think the vast
majority of your customers can either.”
“What do you propose, my lovely? Coffee communism?”
“Morris, you’re a hardcore capitalist. To you everything is a
potential commodity. Am I right?”
“All except for you, my tall americano.”
“Well, then. Put compassion on the menu. People pay more for
products that are cruelty-free to animals. Why not have products that
are cruelty-free to humans? People would pay fifty cents more for a
cup of humane coffee.”
At first he laughed. He was about to toss another patronizing
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