Rising Food Prices and Limited Government Action Deepen Lebanon's Food Insecurity
Several days after Israel’s bombing campaign forced her from her home in the Bir al-Abed neighborhood of Beirut’s southern suburbs, Amal stood in a Hamra vegetable market, carefully selecting eggplants. Her brow was tight with worry.
“The price is now over L.L. 180,000 per kilo,” she said. Just two weeks earlier, she was paying between 120,000 and 130,000. In less than a month, the cost doubled. “We don’t know what to feed our kids anymore. Yesterday, I made a zucchini dish that cost L.L. 1.2 million; it used to cost me 900,000.”
The sharp price increases Amal confronted in the Hamra market reflect a broader national crisis. While official inflation figures have yet to capture the upheaval of recent weeks, the Ministry of Economy and Trade’s weekly price data for Beirut and Mount Lebanon shows sharp rises in essential goods between February 23 and March 9. In that short span, the price of cucumbers more than doubled; mint climbed by 25 percent; bananas by 41 percent; and lamb by 21 percent.
These increases have already exceeded the 15 percent national food inflation rate recorded for the entire previous year. In the absence of comprehensive official data, market conditions suggest a far more volatile reality — one in which a year’s worth of inflation appears to be unfolding in a matter of days.
The government set this surge in motion at the start of Ramadan in mid-February when it raised gasoline prices by L.L. 300,000 per tank — a move that triggered inflationary ripples across every food category. This domestic policy failure was further exacerbated by a global rise in food production costs driven by the U.S.-Israeli war on Iran, and compounded by the systematic disruption of Lebanon’s domestic supply chains as a result of Israeli attacks.
Then, on March 10, the Economy Ministry hiked the price of bread. The small bundle went up by L.L. 5,000 and the large by L.L. 8,000.
Today, at least 1 million people have been displaced in Lebanon and a yet-to-be determined number of them face the frightening prospect of acute food insecurity. The combined pressure of political and economic forces is straining both households and the country's already fragile food system.
Yet the government continues to treat the situation as a logistical challenge or a temporary global shock. Instead of implementing a comprehensive emergency response, it has offered technical band-aid measures and short-term solutions that fall short of the scale of the crisis.
The Closure of the Strait of Hormuz
Near a school sheltering displaced families on Hamra Street, a small bakery selling manakish posted a handwritten note over its menu: “Every item now costs L.L. 10,000 to 20,000 more than the listed price.”
The cashier said he had no other choice. “At the start of Ramadan, a gas cylinder cost $47; now it costs $65.”
This 38 percent increase over just a few weeks exceeds the 12 percent rise in gas prices recorded over the entire previous year.
On its own, an increase of L.L. 20,000 may seem insignificant. But across large-scale food provision efforts to hundreds of thousands of displaced people, the impact quickly adds up. Schools in Ras Beirut hosting displaced families depend on large daily deliveries of zaatar and cheese manakish. As cooking gas prices continue to rise, so does the cost of these food supplies, draining a larger portion of the limited donations intended for emergency aid.
The rise in cooking gas prices follows disruptions in the global supply of liquefied petroleum gas (LPG). Roughly 29 percent of the world’s LPG trade passes through the Strait of Hormuz, a key transit route that Iran has closed to vessels tied to the U.S., Israel, and their allies in response to their war against the country.
The closure of the strait has also impacted other essential inputs for Lebanon's food system. About 39 percent of global crude oil and 19 percent of refined petroleum products pass through the strait, pushing fuel prices higher. Locally, this has increased the cost of transporting food and running private generators.
The blockage has further strained fertilizer supply, with roughly one-third of global flows passing through the same route. This has added pressure on agricultural production and contributed to rising production costs.
While governments elsewhere consider measures such as releasing strategic reserves to stabilize energy markets, Lebanese officials are debating whether to reverse the recent L.L. 300,000 gasoline tax.
Limited State Response
Since the war began on March 2, the government has said it will tighten price controls and strengthen market oversight. Economy Minister Amer Bisat has called for “continuous coordination and communication” with importers and retailers, urging them to “bear responsibility” for rising prices.
This approach follows a familiar pattern. Over the past decade — from the 2019 financial crisis and the COVID-19 pandemic, the Beirut port explosion and the September 2024 war — the merchant class has repeatedly hiked prices in times of crisis.
Economists have long criticized the Lebanese government’s appeal to business owners’ sense of morality, often likening it to the ineffective market inspection practices of the Ottoman era.
Even before the current escalation, around 17 percent of the population was already acutely food insecure under market conditions — when left to market forces.
In times of war, state intervention in food markets is not optional — it is essential. The Lebanese government has both the tools and the responsibility to mitigate the food insecurity now borne by large segments of the population.
Unused Emergency Powers
The legal framework for a decisive state intervention already exists, though it remains unutilized.
A recent article by Sifr Magazine, titled “What if a Blockade Was Imposed on Lebanon?”, revisits the prospect of a siege akin to that of the 2006 war. Such a scenario would warrant invoking the National Defense Law (Legislative Decree No. 102/1983), which allows the state to declare a general mobilization — effectively a state of emergency — when the country or a critical sector of the economy faces a grave threat.
Under this framework, authorities can regulate energy supplies, monitor food stocks and industrial production, organize imports and storage, and requisition the assets and personnel necessary to sustain the population.
Beyond these legal mechanisms, the state could also finance emergency food programs to ease widespread hardship. This would require drawing on its own financial resources, including the roughly $9 billion held at the central bank, which remain largely untapped under the pretext of preserving monetary stability.
For people like Amal, watching the ever-surging price of produce, that stability is not felt on the ground. While billions of dollars sit behind bank vaults, the state’s refusal to meet the mounting national emergency with the urgency it demands means that, for the one million displaced, the next meal remains uncertain.
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