When Ecuadorian flower farmer Esteban Chiriboga made the decision in 1997 to adopt environmentally friendly practices, there was no playbook to tell him what to do. If he stopped using fungicides, what would prevent unsightly mold from forming on the petals? Without insecticides, how would he keep aphids from swarming in the hoophouse? And if he had to give up chemical fertilizers, could he guarantee that his  roses would be ready to ship by Valentine’s Day?

Answers to these questions were hard to find. At the time, the USDA’s National Organic Program was still under development. Chiriboga thought his roses might need a minimal dose of chemicals to pass agricultural inspections in the United States and Europe, but he wasn’t sure. Just one bug or one spot of disease could get his entire shipment rejected. And when a grower makes just a few cents of profit per rose, there’s not much room for risk. 

But Chiriboga was determined. “My decision was to work toward a sustainable production system, both environmentally as well as socially,” he says. Chiriboga established a 37-acre farm just south of Ecuador’s capital, Quito, called Ecoroses SA. Within nine months of planting, he was harvesting his first crop of roses. Chiriboga also tried to do right by his workers by offering them free meals and transportation, extra medical care, and donating computers to their children’s schools. But it would be five years before he received any kind of environmental certification for his practices—and he’s still waiting for the market to reward him for having a conscience.

A hundred years ago, most flowers were grown within a few miles of the flower shop where they would be sold. During the 20th century, flower farming moved west as growers realized they could ship their products by refrigerated truck and rail car. Denver was known for its carnation farms, and California dominated the rose market. But in the 1960s, flower farming began to move to Latin American countries like Colombia and Ecuador. The region offered several competitive advantages that American growers couldn’t beat: low wages, cheap land, less regulatory scrutiny, and a perfect year-round climate for growing staples like roses, carnations, and chrysanthemums. Ten years ago, when Chiriboga founded Ecoroses, Americans were importing 60 percent of their flowers. That figure has since risen to 78 percent.

With the rise in imports came heightened attention and criticism from journalists and advocacy groups. Unlike produce, flowers are not tested for illegal-pesticide residues when they come into the country. The logic behind this decision—people don’t eat flowers, so who cares how they’re grown?—didn’t satisfy groups like the International Labor Rights Forum. In 2003, they launched the Fairness in Flowers campaign to bring attention to a host of problems on flower farms: pesticide exposure, sexual harassment, child labor, and the inability of workers to organize. “There have been tangible results in other sectors, with other green or Fair Trade products like coffee and chocolate,” the project director, Nora Ferm, says. “We can hope for similar positive impacts [for flowers].”

From the beginning, however, the goal has not been to shut the flower farms down. Rather, activists have sought means by which farmers could improve their practices. One strategy is to create a certification program that audits environmental and labor standards. “Workers are often found in rural areas where there are few employment alternatives,” says Ferm. Instead of calling for boycotts, the goal is to use market pressure to encourage “safe, stable, and fair working conditions.”

Posted on Feb 12, 2008 at 8:01 AM
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