Who Holds the Mic? The Power and Politics of Speaking for Ghana’s Smallholder Cocoa Farmers

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It is a daunting question but still needs to be asked. who truly speaks for the smallholder cocoa farmer? In Ghana, a country whose very identity is tied to the cultivation of this “cash crop”, this question feels urgent yet elusive. At face value, it might appear that numerous voices claim to champion the farmer: cooperatives like Kuapa Kokoo, advocacy groups, sustainability organisations, chocolate companies, and even the Ghana Cocoa Board. I am sure you are not surprised by this question as various individuals (like myself), institutions, regulations, initiatives, academics, and interventions are all claiming to be the best at speaking on the exact issues that Ghanaian smallholder Cocoa farmers face. Each of these entities operates with the supposed aim of addressing the farmer’s plight, properly representing the farmer’s challenges, helping uplift them out of poverty or ensuring their rightful place within the global cocoa value chain. But do they really?

Take Kuapa Kokoo, a cooperative often heralded as a shining example of farmer representation. Its slogan, "Pa Pa Paa," meaning "the best of the best," encapsulates the hope that farmers can take control of their destinies. Yet, even the most idealistic structures are not immune to the corrupting influence of centralised power. The arrest of Kuapa Kokoo’s leadership in recent years is a grim reminder of this. How can farmers trust the very systems meant to empower them when they are marred by scandals? Corruption not only erodes trust but also shifts attention away from systemic problems, creating further barriers to authentic representation. But if you think the corruption was just one sided, then you must be mistaken. International cocoa organisations that partner with Kuapa Kokoo as one of the largest cocoa cooperatives in Ghana with over 100,000 farmers, are very complicit. But we will discuss this later.

Then there is the Ghana Cocoa Board, the state agency that oversees everything from pricing to exports. Farmers’ connection to the global trade network ends here, at a door firmly shut. Most cocoa farmers in Ghana have no idea how much their beans sell for on the international market. It is a deliberate design, one that keeps them removed from any potential influence or bargaining power. If they don’t know the rules of the game, how can they even begin to play, let alone win? And this isn’t just about farmers lacking access to international data, it’s about the systemic impoverishment that keeps them preoccupied with survival rather than strategy. When your daily focus is on putting food on the table, there is little room to think about commodity pricing or futures trading. To better understand this, ask yourself how it feels like to not know what you are supposed to know and have been trained not to even understand them when they are placed in front of you.

This disconnection is compounded by the complexity of the cocoa value chain itself. High-frequency trading, derivatives markets, and hedge fund activities have become central to the global cocoa trade. These are layers of abstraction so far removed from the farmer’s reality that they may as well exist in another universe. Even the most educated analysts struggle to navigate these waters, so what chance does the farmer have? The global trading system is designed not only to exclude them but also to ensure that those at the bottom remain perpetually dependent on the structures that exploit them.

Advocacy groups and sustainability organisations often step into this gap, claiming to amplify the farmer’s voice. But here, too, lies a contradiction. Many of these initiatives are funded or shaped by the very companies whose business models perpetuate the farmer’s poverty. The lofty language of sustainability masks a troubling truth: these programmes often tackle symptoms rather than causes. A project might provide temporary relief for school supplies for children or training on ‘modern’ farming techniques or “adult education” supposedly, but it rarely addresses the systemic inequities that keep farmers poor. Worse still, such initiatives can redirect attention from the real issues, creating the illusion of progress while entrenching the status quo. So you will hear about “Supporting women in Cocoa farming” as if Ghana is one country where cocoa farming is a gendered issue. In fact most people do not know that the Akan tribe, whose regions are the main if not only producers of cocoa in Ghana, are matriarchal. The intricacies of this can be discussed separately.

Chocolate companies, for their part, have mastered the art of public relations. They speak of ethical sourcing of commitments to improving farmer livelihoods, yet they resist any meaningful shift in the distribution of value along the supply chain. Farmers see only a fraction of the profits generated by their labour, a fact that remains unchanged despite decades of corporate pledges. While these companies might fund studies or partner with NGOs, their actions often serve to reinforce their own dominance rather than empower the farmer. I am sure you know of the chocolatier that says they have removed 50% of child labour from their supply chain (hahaha). My question is why did you keep the other 50%? Well it’s another conversion for another day but they used this as a great public relations to soar up their sales and brand goodwill.

The irony is plain. Farmers, the very foundation of the cocoa industry, are systematically excluded from every level of decision-making that affects their lives. They are not just marginalised they are intentionally disempowered. Even cooperatives, which should be their strongest advocates, can become vehicles for external interests, whether those of the state or the market. This exclusion is not just a matter of knowledge or access; it is structural. The systems that govern the cocoa trade were never designed with the farmer in mind. From colonial times to the present, the emphasis has been on the extraction of resources, of labour, of value. The smallholder farmer, despite being the backbone of this industry, remains at the mercy of forces far beyond their control. And while many voices claim to represent them, the reality is that representation without power is little more than a performance.

Perhaps the most profound injustice lies in the farmers’ inability to define