ICE targets Kona Coffee Fields in Hawaii for Illegal Immigrants
May 25 - 2025
Coffee Geography Magazine
Nestled on the slopes of Hawaii’s Big Island, the Kona coffee fields thrive under a unique alchemy of tropical sunshine, afternoon rains, and mineral-rich volcanic soil. This rare environment produces a globally coveted brew, with eight-ounce bags retailing for over $45. For generations, the industry has been sustained by Latin American immigrants who handpick the delicate coffee cherries, their labor weaving them into the fabric of the island’s economy and culture. But this harmony is now under threat as federal immigration enforcement actions cast a shadow over the region, leaving workers and growers alike grappling with fear and uncertainty.
The Trump administration’s immigration crackdown has extended to this remote island, a 45-minute flight from Honolulu, where ICE agents have conducted sporadic raids since early 2023. Though smaller in scale compared to operations in other places in the mainland—resulting in just a few dozen detentions—the impact has been profound. Communities across the rural island, home to roughly 250,000 residents, are reeling. Families of mixed immigration status, including naturalized citizens, green card holders, and undocumented individuals, face heightened anxiety. In March, a video of agents detaining a woman and three children outside their home went viral, followed by an April incident where a first-grader was pulled from school after his father’s arrest. These events have amplified fears that even those without criminal records, including children, are vulnerable to the expanding immigration dragnet.
Kona’s coffee industry, composed of hundreds of small, family-owned farms, relies heavily on immigrant labor. Many workers lack legal status, but their contributions are indispensable. “These are good, hard workers. They aren’t gang members,” insisted one grower, echoing a sentiment shared across the tight-knit farming community. The federal seasonal agricultural visa program, designed to address labor shortages, remains inaccessible to most small-scale growers due to its complexity, cost, and bureaucratic hurdles. “If we don’t have these immigrant workers, our coffee will be hurting,” warned another farmer, gesturing to his ripening coffee cherries. “The government should make it easier for people to come here and work legally.”
Hawaii’s coffee legacy dates to the 1820s, when missionaries first planted beans on the Big Island. By the late 19th century, English settler Henry Nicholas Greenwell had elevated Kona’s reputation, winning international acclaim at the 1873 World’s Fair in Vienna. The industry flourished anew in the 1980s as global demand for specialty coffee surged, attracting Mexican and Central American laborers. Some, like Armando Rodriguez, transitioned from workers to landowners. Rodriguez, whose family crossed the border illegally when he was a child, secured legal status through the 1986 immigration amnesty. Today, his family cultivates 13 acres of award-winning Aloha Star coffee. Yet even he fears for the harvest: Seasonal workers with green cards now refuse to return from the U.S. mainland, terrified of detention or revoked status.
The human toll of the crackdown is palpable. On Don Davis’ three-acre farm, workers—many legally authorized—labor 11-hour days for $30 an hour. Davis recently posted “no trespassing” signs to deter ICE, though he acknowledges the gesture may be futile. “There is nobody else who is going to pick this,” he said, surveying his crop. Salvador Cancino, a 47-year-old Mexican immigrant with a green card and U.S.-born children, represents the older guard of workers. But younger arrivals, often Hondurans fleeing violence, now fill labor gaps. Darwin, 26, who asked to be identified by his first name, earns $400 daily during harvests—enough to bring his wife to Hawaii. Yet his undocumented status leaves him in constant fear.
Legal resources are scarce. With no immigration lawyers on the island, those facing court hearings must fly to Honolulu. Missed appearances risk deportation orders, further entangling individuals in the system. In April, ICE agents revisited Kona, sparking outrage after entering organic grower John Redden’s property. Though no workers were present, Redden joined protests, brandishing a sign reading, “ICE invaded my farm.”
Community solidarity has emerged as a counterforce. At an April 29 meeting hosted at the elementary school where the Honduran first-grader was detained, nonprofit leader Armando Rodriguez pressed local police on collaboration with ICE. Chief Benjamin Moszkowicz assured attendees his department does not engage in immigration enforcement, eliciting applause. Meanwhile, Gollita Reyes, who sells tamales to immigrant families, notes plummeting sales as families hide or flee. “People are running out of money,” she said. “Others are gone.”
As Kona’s coffee cherries ripen, the industry stands at a crossroads. The harvest depends on a workforce living in fear, while growers navigate an uncertain future. For generations, immigrants have nurtured this iconic product, their stories intertwined with the land’s volcanic soil. Now, the very hands that sustain Hawaii’s coffee legacy face the threat of being uprooted.