Coffee! Americans love it.

Estimates suggest we drink over 190 billion cups per year. And spend more than $300m on it every day.

What you might not know… Coffee ended colonialism.

More specifically, a book about coffee production, and the political fallout from the abuses it exposed, ended colonialism, according to Indonesia’s most famous author.

Today Ink & Time profiles “Max Havelaar, or the Coffee Auctions of the Dutch Trading Company,” the historically groundbreaking novel by Eduard Douwes Dekker, published in 1860 under the pseudonym Multatuli (Latin for ''I have suffered greatly'').

So pour yourself a cup and get introduced to Max Havelaar.

And learn why despite the Dutch leaving Indonesia, the economics of the coffee trade haven’t changed all that much….

You can read “Max Havelaar” here in the public domain.

A most influential beverage, whose economics remain troubling

A Cuppa Political Crisis & The Long Tail of Mr. Havelaar

Max Havelaar starts in an Amsterdam counting house with Batavus Droogstoppel, a pious lover of ledgers who trusts numbers more than people. A second character, Stern, reshapes a packet of papers into the tale of Max Havelaar, a colonial official in West Java who challenges the Dutch Cultivation System. 

“The Government compels the worker to grow on his land what pleases it … and it fixes the price it pays him.”

Multatuli, recalled by Pramoedya Ananta Toer.

Between satire and testimony, Multatuli inserts “Saïdjah and Adinda,” a love story crushed by compulsory cropping. He then steps onstage to address the Dutch king himself.

Basic commerce takes on life and death drama. A price list becomes accusation and cause for political reform.

The target of criticism was the Cultivation System. Peasants were required to plant export crops and deliver them at administered prices, monitored by local elites. 

The unique brilliance of the book, especially at the time, was to unpack coercion hiding inside accounting: Quotas were like fate. Prices appeared neutral.

It’s why when it was published, the novel upended politics in the Netherlands, and why a century later Havelaar’s name was taken by a fair-trade label. 

Yet, modern economics of coffee, and many other commodities, is still haunted by the question: Who sets the terms? Who benefits and who pays the true price? 

In 2025, colonialism as Max Havelaar knew it is long gone. But in many ways it has been replaced by a more insidious web of economic exploitation. 

So where is Max now?

From Colonial Cultivation to Ethical Facades

Max Havelaar exposed the horrors of Dutch colonialism in Indonesia, where coffee farmers were forced to dedicate 20% of their land to export crops like coffee, often at the cost of their own food and lives.

Fast-forward to today, and Indonesia remains a coffee powerhouse.

The country ranks fourth globally with a projected output of 10.9 million 60-kg bags in the 2024/25 season. Yet, smallholder farmers, who make up 98% of the industry still capture only about 1-5% of the retail product's value. Shockingly, 96% of coffee producing households fall below living income benchmarks, unable to cover basics like food, education, and healthcare.

Power shifted from colonial overlords to corporate brands, yet the economic bondage persists.

In his critique of imperial hypocrisy, Multatuli didn't pull punches. Colonizers preached about bringing "civilization" to Indonesia, complete with religious sermons praising their rule. But behind closed doors, local regents—native leaders propped up by the Dutch—extorted farmers through illegal taxes, forced labor, and even violence. 

"The expenses of transport to Europe through a privileged trading company are high; the money paid to the chiefs for encouragement increases the prime cost; and because the entire trade must produce profit, that profit cannot be got in any other way than by paying the Javanese just enough to keep him from starving, which would lessen the producing power of the nation."

From Stern’s Composition, page 68

Havelaar, based on Dekker's own experiences, documented atrocities like the poisoning of officials who got too close to the truth and the heartbreaking seizure of family assets, such as in the tale of Saïdjah, whose buffalo was taken for unpaid dues, leading to his family's ruin.

Coffee auctions in Amsterdam funded about one-third of the Netherlands' national budget in the mid-1800s, while Javanese farmers starved amid famines triggered by neglected rice fields. 

"It is a fact that the poor Javanese is thus driven away from his rice-fields; it is a fact that famine is often the consequence of these measures."

From Stern’s Composition, page 69

It is not difficult to see why the book caused an uproar, even in 1860, at a time when the abolition of slavery was on the near horizon in America.

The "benevolent" narrative was a sham, much like today's glossy marketing.

Behind the Labels: The Illusion of Fair Trade

Enter fair trade certifications, the supposed heroes of modern coffee.

The Max Havelaar Foundation, founded in 1988 and named after the novel itself, promises better prices and sustainable practices. But dig deeper, and certifications apply to just 7% of Indonesia's coffee exports. The premiums on offer are a mere $0.20 USD per kg, hardly enough to lift farmers out of poverty.

Primary producers retain only a thin slice over the overall value chain.

Take Lampung Province, a key Robusta-growing area: Farmers earn an estimated IDR 13-15 million (roughly $800-940 USD) annually, falling short of the living income benchmark by IDR 25-30 million ($1,560-1,875 USD). In Bengkulu, 81% of smallholders live below the poverty line, scraping by on $95-125 USD monthly.

Rural poverty grips 14 million Indonesians, 50% of whom are tied to agriculture, forcing many to diversify or migrate.

In Aceh province, farmers earn on average only 40% of fair trade reference prices ($0.38 USD per kg versus the needed $0.95 USD), deepening cycles of debt and despair. Predatory interest rates as high as 20-50% go unchecked, much like the regents' unchecked power in Havelaar's time.

For a $4 cup of coffee, producers get less than 10% and usually around 1-2%, while roasters and retailers pocket 60-80%.

Real equity remains a dream for most, reminiscent of colonial farmers getting one-fourth to one-fifth market price. Only 3.4% of certified farmers actually reach living incomes, proving labels are more marketing than miracle.

Multatuli Spoke to the King

"I know that this accusation is serious; yet I maintain it, and feel myself capable of proving it. Whosoever is angry because of this undisguised utterance of my opinion, let him consider how many millions of money, how many human lives might have been spared to England, if the eyes of the Nation had been opened in time to the true condition of affairs in British India."

"Look here, O King, that happens in your empire, in your beautiful empire of Insulinde!"

From Multatuli's direct address to the Dutch King

Multatuli was an insider on a moral crusade.

He took his mission all the way to the top, delivering a scathing indictment to the king, in the reality-based docu-drama.

Today, multinational corporations and retailers hold the reins, using supply chains that squeeze farmers via intermediaries who skim 20-30% in fees. Meanwhile, Indonesia's 1.8 million smallholder families face volatile prices and rising costs. Climate change adds further unpredictability, slashing yields by up to 20% in 2023, while regulations like the EU's deforestation rules have cut exports by 18%, hitting smallholders hardest.

With Indonesia's domestic coffee consumption climbing to 4.9 million bags in 2024/25, there's potential for local markets to empower farmers directly but it takes challenging the entrenched system of financial interests.  

So, where is Max Havelaar now?

He's in your cup, whispering to educate us on the past, and present economics of our favorite foods and drinks. He’s not there to make you feel guilty, but to think.

One wonders if he would agree with his namesake fair trade schemes? Or if he would consider them a facade, and think they are helpful or harmful.

“The book is multifarious… disjointed… straining for effect… the style is poor… the author inexperienced… no talent… no method… Fine, fine, all of it fine! But… THE JAVANESE ARE MISTREATED! THE MAIN POINT of what I have written is irrefutable!

- Multatuli in the final pages of Max Havelaar

Ink & Time resurfaces lost or forgotten authors and the ideas that changed the world, in the process supporting your book discovery and helping expand your world.

Stay tuned for the next edition of Ink & Time, usually published every weekend.

If you want to go deeper into the price of our favourite drink…

 

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