Declining domestic consumption and an inability to compete on the international volume market are forcing Lebanon’s olive oil producers to go niche. It’s a nice idea (selling as it does, Lebanon’s ancient olive-oil-producing heritage and a quality attributable to the country’s soil, climate and general environment), but for the $250 million olive oil sector, which accounts for only 0.2% of worldwide production, it is a strategy that is fraught with challenges, not least the need for regulation and quality control. In a local market that is defined by brand fraud and sub standard products and flooded with cheaper oil (often smuggled from Syria), local producers have little incentive to make a high-end product, especially when exports represent only 10% of production. “I don’t see any hope for regulation,” said Ramzi Ghosn, producer of NAY olive oil as well as Massaya wines and arak. “Even if the laws existed, no one would comply with them. This is a bulk market and cheating is the name of the game.” Ghosn and other olive oil producers argue that the only way to reduce the volume of inferior quality oil is by building a brand image, but he said that the conditions do not exist for such an initiative. “So far, the market is not ripe enough for the development of brands. It is only ripe enough for bulk sales and cheats,” Ghosn said. This state of affairs in a sector once touted by the UN as a potentially lucrative agro-industry has forced many producers to reconsider their strategy. Ghosn admitted that the optimism with which he began producing his olive oil a few years ago had been misplaced. “We thought it would develop fairly fast. It hasn’t. We have put our olive oil operation into a dormant phase and are focusing on wine.”
Roughly 30% to 40% of olive oil sold in Lebanon enters the country illegally. In such an environment, the opportunity for brand fraud is considerable. “Some producers import low-quality olive oil and then market it as extra virgin Koura oil,” noted Mousa Nimah, an American University of Beirut professor of agriculture and food sciences who is a specialist on olives. “It’s not good quality, but it’s cheaper.” This focus on price means that less than 10% of olive oil produced in Lebanon is of “extra virgin” quality.
The doubt over quality extends to supermarket brands, which are assumed to have a quality threshold. Spinneys told EXECUTIVE that “its own label products are tested at the Industrial Research Institute and follow the strict regulations set by the ministry of economy and trade,” and that its “extra virgin” oil came from the “finest olive trees” in Koura. However, one international agricultural consultant who is working to bolster Lebanon’s olive oil sector, said that in the absence of stringent compulsory government controls, it was impossible to monitor – or guarantee – the quality of these products. “They sell it at a higher price because they say it is ‘extra virgin’ but where is the piece of paper proving that?” the consultant asked. Wafa’a Dikah, head of the ministry of agriculture’s agro-industry department, confirmed that an informal team of international olive oil experts spot tasted alleged “extra virgin” olive oil at a variety of Lebanese supermarkets. “Not one conformed to the organoleptic (involving use of sense organs) characteristics of ‘extra virgin’ oil,” she said.
Because of the worrying domestic situation, the quality of Lebanese olive oil cannot be guaranteed abroad. Often, oil marketed as high-end Lebanese is simply foreign oil bottled in Lebanon. “There should be rigorous pre-export testing,” said Nimah. “The absence of it is probably what has killed our markets abroad. Instead of applying the law, we help those who break it, and then break it again. You have to separate politics from production and marketing.” The government should be doing more to market high-quality Lebanese oil around the world than simply buying in bulk for the army, critics say, but in the absence of export quality controls this is a well-nigh impossible task. Exporting is made harder by the restrictions on imported olive oil imposed by the European Union to protect the olive oil produce of member states like Spain, Italy and Greece, which produces further hurdles for Lebanese exporters of quality oil hoping to establish markets in Europe. “It is a hidden way of creating trade barriers,” said a condemnatory Ghosn. “The government should have included these unreasonable restrictions on Lebanese olive oil in its trade discussions with the EU to make it easier for us to sell.” Meanwhile, the absence of major producers has affected the sector’s lobbying clout. “Big producers would have had enough power to get the government to put this on its agenda,” Ghosn said. So, for the moment, marketing initiatives, with the exception of those espoused by the non-governmental Rene Moawad foundation, are individualistic, place greater emphasis on price than quality, and do little to buttress the image of Lebanon’s olive oil at home and internationally. Olive oil farmers and the NGOs helping them say they also need research, training and equipment under government rural development projects if they are to assimilate to an evolving international market and to ensure that exports conform to its standards. “To have high quality, you need special training courses. We need new machines to compete at the international level,” said Mansour Azzi, an olive grower from the Chouf region. He said olive growers also needed government assistance to fight off an insect plague that was destroying up to 60% of crops. “In Europe, the governments are doing something. Here, no.”
The ministry of agriculture contends that with a limited (and shrinking) budget, it is doing all it can to bolster the sector. Dikah acknowledged that agriculture was not the government’s top priority but she said that the ministry was now trying to modernize the marketing of olive oil in Lebanon and was distributing machinery and hosting educational seminars. The ministry is also working on olive-oil-specific legislation that would allow for increased regulation of quality – both on the domestic market and with respect to oil bound for foreign countries. Those in the ministry believe a crackdown on illegal olive oil imports across the notoriously porous Syria-Lebanon border could in fact be implemented although the industry says this is unlikely. Dikah also pointed to increased olive oil funds from international donors such as the Italian government and the EU. A current agreement under negotiation with Italy would provide for $3 million in assistance. But it would be channeled through the Council for Development and Reconstruction – a body that has been criticized by observers in the past over alleged impartiality and corruption. “At the ministry, we treat all regions equally,” asserted Dikah. “There is a recognition of the importance of the sector, of producing quality olive oil. But things won’t change just like that,” Dikah continued. Overall, the future is bleak and any efforts to establish Lebanese olive oil as a luxury, top-quality product is a pipe dream – a pity since, according to Naame, “virgin Lebanese olive oil is among, if not the, best olive oil in the world.”
But not everyone is pessimistic. The Rene Moawad foundation, which together with USAID has created an olive farmer cooperative, constructed technical premises, provided technical support to farmers, organized olive oil conferences, and invited olive oil experts to Lebanon, exudes optimism about Lebanon’s olive oil sector potential. It says that the ministries of agriculture and economy have understood the need for development of the sector and that Europe is not the only potential market for Lebanese olive oil. It points, in particular, to Asia. Fady Yarak, the Rene Moawad Foundation executive director, declared: “Lebanese olive oil can compete in quality terms with any other international oil on the market.” The foundation boasts that thanks to its efforts, Lebanese olive oil is now sold by French firm Olivier & Co., but it acknowledges that certain kinds of Lebanese olive oil, although as good as their European counterparts, are excluded from the EU market because of the restrictive criteria, which cannot be fulfilled by certain varieties of Lebanese olive oil.
And the foundation concedes that even if some momentum has been generated, change on the ground may not be just around the corner. “I am sure that when the proposed legislation comes before the parliament, something [negative] will happen,” said one consultant who works with the foundation. However, time for genuine change may be limited. In Choueifaat, a region southeast of Beirut once renowned for its olives, concrete has replaced groves in an ominous trend that is gathering pace across the country, much to the chagrin of people like AUB professor Naame. “Choueifaat was full of olive trees. Now you can’t find a tree,” he lamented. “Lebanon is becoming interconnected with cement.” As a consequence, he said, olive oil production had decreased by 10% to 15% over the last decade, a development hastened by the declining social status of working in the olive groves. “Young gentlemen don’t want to work in the fields,” he noted. “They don’t want to dirty their hands.” Instead, Syrian, Egyptian and other foreign workers provide cheap labor. Often, though, they lack know-how passed down from generation to generation, let alone any modern training, and unwittingly help produce the inferior quality oil that is sullying the image of Lebanese olive oil in general.
