Before setting up his plantation, José Gregorio Rojas, 69, worked for eight years as a “chemist” in the production of coca paste, an extract of the coca leaf that can be processed into street cocaine. His life was supposed to change for the better when he stopped growing coca plants and joined the National Illicit Crop Substitution Programme (PNIS), a Colombian government initiative started in 2017. However, not everything went according to plan.
“I was very close to going back to growing coca leaves because I couldn’t find a way to make money. What is the use of a piece of land if I can’t produce?” says Rojas, sitting at the dining table in the house he built overlooking the mountains where the Amazon region begins. “If the government had complied [with the agreement], I would be well organised by now. Everything they gave me, I invested here. But it’s not enough.”
Rojas left the Colombian town of La Macarena after uprooting a hectare of coca plants and moved to Puerto Rico in the rural Caquetá department, willing to join the programme and start a new life. But like many former coca growers, the dream quickly turned sour.
The crop substitution programme was a result of the peace treaty between the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (Farc) and the government and was intended to reduce drug trafficking in the country. It offers tools to peasants to transition from coca plantations to another source of income and recognises the need to improve living conditions in rural areas; 61,000 coca workers are part of the initiative.
According to Estefanía Ciro, a researcher of rural issues within coca economies in the Colombian Amazon, the state’s admission that coca crops were “an issue of development and rural poverty” was one of the key innovations of the peace treaty. For decades, coca plants were part of peasants’ daily lives in departments such as Caquetá or Putumayo. Due to their exposure to armed conflict, farmers became the most at-risk group in a profitable business.
“Coca growers are people who are not guaranteed basic rights, such as health, housing or education. They live in territories with enormous levels of violence with a market regulated by armed groups, in addition to being persecuted by the anti-drug policy,” says Ciro.
The school in Puerto Rico has been closed for years and farmers struggle to sell their products due to a lack of accessible roads. Raul – who has half a hectare of coca planted and prefers to omit his surname – says: “This land is good for planting many products but we need investment.”
Despite the risks, coca paste generates a higher income for farmers and is more easily transported than other agricultural products.
“When I used to drive a car during the harvest, a farmer brought a bulk of corn into town, but he couldn’t sell it. If you planted coca, on the other hand, buyers would come directly to your house,” Rojas says.
Fernando Liscano, a former coca grower, says that local people are used to the coca plantations “since childhood”.
“I learned to work on it from my father, who relied on it for a living,” he says. Liscano now raises cows and produces milk – the region’s primary economic activity. “Before, all the farms in this area had a coca plantation. Now, it is hard to see it,” he adds.
Just like Rojas, Liscano says that returning to coca growing is a temptation. “I renounced an income that generated 3m-4m Colombian pesos (£580-£775) every two months,” he says, stressing that it is hard to make the same amount with what he does now.
The first phase of the crop substitution programme verified that coca growers had eradicated their plantations so they could receive up to 12m pesos (about £2,300) for living expenses a year. However, according to Liscano and other coca growers, the government took more than three years to comply with its part of the deal.
“We, as peasants, don’t need donations. We need projects and bank loans at accessible rates,” says Liscano.
Ciro says the programme was underfunded during the rightwing administration of president Iván Duque between 2018 and 2022. “The previous government reduced the PNIS funding by about 90%,” she says.
In addition to cash transfers, the state has committed to developing food security initiatives and providing technical and economic assistance for farming projects. However, the farmers have complained about the disproportionate cost of the equipment and denounced the corruption of the private operators entrusted by the government to provide assistance – allegations endorsed by the National Planning Department’s evaluation report. According to Liscano, the prices dropped after complaints came public – but remained disproportionate.
Despite a challenging transition, and thanks to his son’s financial support, Rojas now earns a living from raising hens and selling guama fruits (Inga edulis), better known as the ice-cream bean for its taste and texture. He has also ventured into fish farming, though he initially failed due to a lack of knowhow and suitable equipment. Rojas has learned through trial and error and hopes to start seeing the fruits of his labour within the next six months.
“Thank God we are not plagued by hunger, but we face many difficulties in the day to day,” says Rojas, who earns about £97 a month – less than the £280 minimum wage.
Farmers also complain about a lack of schools and accessible roads, late payments, and technical problems. According to the NDP evaluation report, only 2.3% of the families received technical assistance, a crucial element for the programme’s success.
Some workers, such as coca harvesters – locally known as raspachines – also benefit less from the programme, and their compensation was limited to one year.
“Those who had a farm at least had the land after uprooting. We, as raspachines, were left with nothing,” says Omar William Vargas, who used to work harvesting coca leaves.
Gloria Miranda, PNIS director, acknowledges that assistance to harvesters has been frozen but says the state will resume it. She adds that the government is cutting out private operators and replacing them with local suppliers and is committed to improving public infrastructure and access to basic services, such as education.
According to Miranda, the government plans to use the PNIS to industrialise the countryside, creating new jobs and income opportunities. It also aims to comply with 40% of the programme by the end of this year and the remaining 60% in the first half of 2025.
Ciro says the problem could be the short time left – a year and a half – until the end of president Gustavo Petro’s leftwing administration. “Doing so two years after taking office seems to me they are short of time,” she says.
Despite Colombia’s efforts to reduce the number of coca plantations, they continue to grow as cocaine consumption rises worldwide. In 2016, when the Colombian peace treaty was signed, the UN Office on Drug and Crime documented 146,000 hectares (360,000 acres) of land being used for coca cultivation, a number that rose to 230,000 hectares by 2022.
According to Ciro, coca farmers are migrating to the Ecuadorian border. In Caquetá, she says, plantations have shrunk, but they have increased in Putumayo, for example. She acknowledges that Petro’s administration will not legalise cocaine during his administration, but advocates that governments must work on new scenarios in which cocaine and cannabis production are legal and fair.
“Prohibitionism promotes market regulation through violent means,” says Ciro.
Even so, Rojas says, this would not be a deterrent for farmers. “If the coca prices recover and people see they can’t get by, believe me, they will go back to the business. There is nothing to replace coca.”