This is the third of three blog posts created with masters students of Swiss Universities of Applied Sciences from a variety of academic fields receiving the Hirschmann foundation scholarship. The goal for the students was to develop creative solutions and innovative outputs on how Swiss companies can strengthen ethical business practices and build positive, long-term relationships with local communities.
Authors: Katarzyna Elperyn, Florian Hunziker, Luana Läderach and Charly Mirambeau
Abstract: Swiss chocolate is world-famous for its taste and quality, but its history and production are
tied to darker issues, including colonialism, deforestation, and child labour. This article
explores how cultural identity influences our willingness to confront these realities, and how
ethical change may depend as much on emotions and tradition as on facts and policy.
Swiss chocolate is often seen as a national treasure – creamy, comforting, and crafted to perfection. But behind its smooth surface lies a more troubling reality, tied to colonial history, environmental harm, and child labour. To change the future of chocolate, we may first need to rethink how cultural identity shapes what people are willing to see – or to ignore.
Talks about the darker side of Swiss chocolate often stay at surface level. Awareness campaigns are launched, but resistance remains, sometimes not due to lack of knowledge, but because chocolate is so deeply linked to ideas of home, pride, and tradition. It’s not just about information; it’s about emotion.
Chocolate is personal. Many Swiss people grow up with it. It’s a treat tied to childhood memories and national pride. Asking someone to look critically at such a beloved product can feel like asking them to question a piece of who they are.
Still, the ethical problems are serious. Cocoa farming in countries like Ghana and Côte d’Ivoire has led to widespread deforestation. Over the past 60 years, up to 90% of forests in these countries have been lost—about one-third of it due to cocoa farming [WWF Schweiz]. And behind the scenes, many farmers live in poverty, with around 1.5 million children working in unsafe conditions on cocoa plantations.
So how did Switzerland become so closely tied to chocolate in the first place?
The cocoa bean was first grown in Central and South America and used by Indigenous peoples in bitter drinks. Spanish colonisers brought it to Europe, where it remained a luxury item for some time. It wasn’t until the 19th century that modern chocolate as we know it began to take shape. Switzerland’s François-Louis Cailler opened one of Europe’s first mechanised chocolate factories in 1819. His son-in-law then experimented with adding milk to chocolate, creating the famous Swiss milk chocolate [House of Switzerland]. Later, Rodolphe Lindt developed the conching process, which gave chocolate its smooth, melt-in-the-mouth texture. These innovations turned Switzerland into a chocolate powerhouse, but they also fed global demand and industrial-scale cocoa farming, with all its consequences.
Today, many consumers are becoming more aware of these problems, thanks in part to initiatives like Fairtrade and Rainforest Alliance, whose logos appear on many chocolate bars. A lesser-known but important initiative is the “Swiss Platform for Sustainable Cocoa”, which aims to make 100% of cocoa used in Switzerland traceable and sustainable by 2030 [Kakaoplattform].
Museums and cultural institutions are also stepping in. The “Swiss National Museum” in Zurich recently held an exhibition exploring Switzerland’s overlooked role in colonial trade and slavery [Le Monde]. Educational projects like “Helvetia and the Journey of a Cocoa Bean” aim to tell the stories of cocoa farmers and promote ethical consumption [Helvetia].
There’s also a growing number of ethical “bean-to-bar” chocolate makers in Switzerland, such as “Laflor”, “Garçoa”, and “Taucherli”, who focus on fair sourcing and sustainability [Financial Times].
Despite these positive steps, there’s still a gap between sustainable goals and consumer habits. Ethical labels help, but mass production and high demand continue to drive practices that are harmful to both people and planet. Efforts that challenge our consumption habits, like eating less chocolate altogether, are far less popular, perhaps because they go against both economic interests and cultural comfort.
But perhaps that’s where real change could start. Could we imagine cutting back just a little? Could knowing the true cost of a chocolate bar make us choose better, or even less often? These are uncomfortable questions. But in asking them, we may open space for new thinking, smarter education, and a slower, fairer chocolate industry.
Because sometimes, a little less sweetness can lead to a lot more justice.