Harvester Nabil Assad looks on as he holds a freshly cut pine wood, where a pine crisis is unfolding, caused by an invasive insect that feeds on the cones. — Photos: Reuters
In the heart of southern Lebanon, where pine trees once stood tall and abundant, a quiet crisis is unfolding. The cones are barren, the trees are drying and a forest that was a lifeline for entire communities is under siege.
Farmers in Bkassine forest have watched their pine yields dwindle for years.
At first, they blamed seasonal weather changes. Then, in 2015, scientists confirmed what many feared: an invasive insect had taken hold, one that feeds on the cones that produce Lebanon’s prized pine nuts.
“It’s not just the nuts,” said Dr Nabil Nemer, a forest health expert at the Holy Spirit University of Kaslik (Usek). “This insect attacks the cones over three years. It doesn’t just reduce productivity, it wipes it out.”
In some cases, up to 82% of a cone’s seed pods are left as empty shells, according to Nemer. Trees weakened by the ravages of climate change are particularly vulnerable.
The insect, Leptoglossus occidentalis, is originally from North America and likely arrived in Lebanon via untreated wooden shipping pallets.
It has since spread across the Mediterranean to Turkiye and other areas, according to his research.
Livelihoods are under threat in the Bkassine reserve, the Middle East’s largest productive pine forest. The trees grow in other parts of Lebanon, but largely not commercially.
Various Leptoglossus occidentalis, known for its proboscis, are pictured in a lab.
For decades, Miled Hareb’s family survived on the forest’s bounty. That is no longer the case.
“This work was passed down to me. I built my house with it and raised my family with it. But then the trees started dying, and so did our way of life,” Hareb said.
Harvesting pine cones is gruelling work. Workers climb towering trees with narrow ladders, balancing on narrow branches without safety gear to collect cones nestled high in the canopy.
Injuries are common and pay has dwindled along with the yields. Nabil Assad, a Syrian labourer who has harvested pine cones in Lebanon for more than a decade, still remembers when up to 250 pine-pickers worked simultaneously in Bkassine.
“Now it’s just around 20 or 30 people. There’s no work anymore,” he said.
Nabil fills the trunk of his truck with freshly cut pine wood.
A dwindling ecosystem
Most of Lebanon’s pine forests were planted hundreds of years ago. These older trees are still within their productive lifespans, but droughts, erratic rainfall and rising temperatures triggered by climate change have made them more vulnerable to the pests.
“A healthy tree can fight back,” Nemer said. “But when it’s thirsty and starved, it has no defence.”
At November’s COP-30 climate summit in Belem, Brazil, United Nations officials stressed the importance of shielding forests from pest infestations and other risks, describing forests as “the planet’s most powerful natural defence”.
Bkassine forest was once home to around 100,000 productive pine trees, according to the UN Development Programme.
The number has fluctuated: years of climate stress and pest infestations decreased them and efforts at replanting aimed to offset those losses, but no recent studies offer accurate new figures, Nemer said.
Harvester Assad cuts a branch from a pine tree. — Photos: Reuters
In addition to the cone-eating insect, wood-boring beetles are also killing pines. Dead trees litter the forest floor, attracting more pests and accelerating the decline.
Decades of political and economic turmoil in Lebanon have also taken a toll. After the country’s brutal 1975-1990 civil war, state-led forest management fell by the wayside.
Illegal logging has surged since an economic meltdown in 2019.
As productivity drops, market prices have gone up – but few Lebanese can afford them.
A kilogram of pine nuts now sells for nearly US$100 (RM413), from around US$65 (RM268) five years ago. Families and even restaurants have swapped out pine nuts for cheaper sliced almonds for Lebanese dishes that call for a crunch.
Water drips over pine fruits.
Efforts to fight back have been slow. Spraying pesticides requires helicopters, which are controlled by the Lebanese army. Logistical delays mean treatments often miss the critical window when insects lay their eggs.
Lebanon’s agriculture ministry announced a national spraying campaign for this past August. But Nemer warns that without a broader strategy that involves farmers themselves, it won’t be enough.
In Bkassine, farmers are learning to identify pests, report outbreaks and participate in forest management, through training programmes led by Usek, the Lebanese Ministry of Agriculture, FAO and the UN Environment Programme.
“We need to manage the forest as a whole,” Nemer said. “This isn’t a garden. It’s not a farm. It’s a living ecosystem.” – Reuters
