Throughout history, silk has been an expensive and sought-after commodity, and once upon a time, Lebanon played an important role in its production. Curiously enough, many Lebanese today have little knowledge of their country’s once-lucrative silk industry. We can argue that this is no fault of their own, as the industry was in deep decline by the mid-20th century and left barely any traces for the forthcoming generations to connect with. At its peak, there were nearly 200 silk factories in Lebanon (mainly concentrated in Mount Lebanon). Later, factories that were not destroyed altogether were converted into grand traditional-style homes or institutional buildings such as schools. More recently, a half-dozen or so that remained in ruins were repurposed, becoming part of luxury hotels, community spaces, or venues for private events. Only one, located in the town of Bsous (next to Aley), has been restored and serves as Lebanon’s official and only silk museum, since opening its doors in 2001.
So, what happened? Why did it end with not one functioning factory today? There are multiple factors that led to the industry’s eventual demise, but what is truly fascinating is the profound economic and social impact that silk production had on Lebanon, especially during its peak years (1840–1912), often referred to as the Golden Age of sericulture in Lebanon.
Lebanon’s Silk Beginnings
Let’s start with the early days of sericulture (silkworm breeding) in the region, which can be traced to the 6th century, when the Byzantine Emperor Justinian the Great ordered two priests to travel to Asia to uncover the secret behind silk making. The priests allegedly returned with silkworm eggs carefully hidden in their hollow bamboo canes. Whether this story is true or not, we do know that from this period onwards, silkworm farming left its imprint on the Levant. It was thanks to the efforts of Fakhreddine al-Ma’ni II (1572–1635), often referred to as the ‘Renaissance Prince’ for his progressive leadership and exile period in Italy, that Lebanon first saw significant progress in silk production. He pushed for economic autonomy for the emirate of Mount Lebanon, while still under Ottoman rule. He worked to develop silk agriculture and used his commercial ties with Italy for trade. Lebanese “baladi” (local) raw silk, known for its bright yellow hue, was highly sought after and was typically sold as bundles in the Qaysariyyeh (marketplace) of Deir el Qamar, as well as the khans of Sidon, Tripoli, and Beirut during his reign.
Initially, sericulture was mainly a female-led cottage industry in Lebanon. Families would cultivate mulberry trees (the food source for silkworms) and raise silkworms at home. The women would typically feed and look after the silkworms until they spun cocoons, from which they would extract the silk thread using a hand-powered spinning wheel. The French called this the ‘roue arabe’ (Arab wheel).
In contrast to Lebanon’s modest output using old-fashioned tools, France already had a thriving silk industry since the 15th century. As they had more advanced industrial methods, silk gradually became more affordable to the French middle class, increasing demand. However, a fatal disease struck the silkworm population in France in the mid-1800s, drastically reducing their production. As the French had already established ties with Lebanon, it made sense to move some of their production there, especially since Lebanon already had an abundance of mulberry trees and a good water supply. This led to the creation of the first mechanized silk factory in Lebanon, established in 1843 in Btater (Chouf region) by the Frenchman Antoine-Fortuné Portalis. From this point on, life changed irrevocably for the people of Mount Lebanon.
Economic Boom and Social Revolution
Once the French designated Lebanon as a key production outpost, teams of spinners from France came to train young Lebanese women. In no time, the number of factories increased, and by 1912 there were 194 throughout Lebanon. According to Souad Safi, our guide at the Bsous Silk Museum, all the factories had to be built the same way, whether they were small or big. Even the roof tiles had to be brought in from France. “The French would not give licenses to the Lebanese to build silk factories if they did not follow the exact same blueprint,” she stresses.
By 1911, Lebanon and Syria combined were producing around 524,000 kilograms of raw silk, which were mostly exported to Lyon (regular steamboat lines between Marseille and Beirut facilitated transport) and Italy. At its peak, silk production accounted for more than 60% of all Lebanese exports.
The silk industry became a very important sector in Lebanon and remarkably transformed the economy. The frequent transportation of silk from Beirut to Marseille led to the development and expansion of the Port of Beirut. The loans and grants made to traders and intermediaries buying silk cocoons from farmers were among the first financial instruments, paving the way for the establishment of Lebanon’s first bank.
Suddenly, Lebanon’s feudal agricultural order was being traded for a world capitalist order, changing the dynamics of business and even family life.
For the first time, women were leaving their homes and farms to work in factories, which undoubtedly sparked a social revolution in Lebanese communities. “This was a big change in Lebanese households and at first, it was not really seen favorably in Lebanese society,” says Safi. “Some of the girls brought into work were orphans, so as not to bring shame on families.” Despite the controversies, work in these factories became overwhelmingly popular, especially as peasant families needed the extra income.
By the early 1880s, 12,000 unmarried women and girls were working in factories outside their villages, while only 1,000 men were employed exclusively as overseers, known as ‘nazzar’. It also became quite common for women to work in these factories to earn their dowries to get married.
The End of the Silk Era
By the late 19th century, silk production was at its peak. However, cracks were also slowly starting to appear, later proving that this industry was simply not sustainable in Lebanon. Multiple factors led to the downfall of silk production, which became apparent by the onset of World War I.
Safi, a former journalist who now makes a living demonstrating silkworm farming and silk production to Lebanese schoolchildren at the museum from May to October each year, takes a long sigh before recounting the inevitable obstacles Lebanon was not ready to counteract. First, many factory owners could not afford to modernize their equipment to keep pace with Europe. Then there were religious leaders (both Muslim and Christian) who tried to ban women from working, especially in mixed-gender factory spaces, causing regular disruptions. But the real nail in the coffin was the competition from cheaper silk flooding the market from China and Japan.
“Many factory owners went bankrupt. The wages were so low for women too, that they preferred to stay home and do lacework,” explains Safi. In 1975, the last fully functioning factory was officially shut in Lebanon.
Lebanon Today – Traces of Silk Ruins
Unless one researches and reads literature on this subject or visits the Bsous Silk Museum, there are few alternative sources to learn about Lebanon’s former silk industry. Luckily, several recent, exciting projects have beautifully incorporated the ruins of former factories, opening up new discussions and awakening the curiosity of upcoming generations about this fascinating period in Lebanese history.
Here are a few venues one can visit for a nostalgic glimpse into Lebanon’s silk heritage:
Silk Valley Resort & Wellness Center is situated where the Hamada Silk Works factory (also known as Magnanerie Mourgue d’Algue) once operated in the Arbanieh-Broumana Valley. The gorgeous hotel, owned by Albert Aoun, seamlessly blends heritage with modern luxury, thanks to architect Amin Iskandar, who painstakingly restored what remained of the factory and created elegant, functional spaces throughout. The original main warehouse, diesel tank areas, and cocoon storage rooms were repurposed into stunning lounges, restaurants, and a spa. The unmissable original 40-meter chimney adds a charming touch to the resort, which is surrounded by lush forests and pure serenity.
Closer to Lebanon’s coastline is Soie d’Amour, a romantic venue where echoes of the past can be felt in every corner of the sprawling former silk factory in Damour. Opened in 2022, the site was bought by Issam Yammine, who carefully cleaned up the original factory ruins without adding to them. The outdoor venue includes the factory’s two workshops (‘karkhane’) areas along with the chimney. The original management office now serves as a bridal room. Fouad Abboud, one of the partners of the Soie d’Amour Management Group, explained to us how the place was meticulously restored. When guests come to see it, they are given a mini history lesson. “We always tell new clients the backstory of this silk factory. We talk about the women who worked here and their grandmothers before them. It’s very important that we pass on the legacy of the place and the people who served here,” explains Abboud.
The Silk Factory by Zita was once used to manufacture and export parachutes for the Allies during World War II. After the war, it became a regular silk factory. Located in Fidar, by the beach road near Byblos, it has been cleverly redesigned and now serves as a concert hall where musical performances are regularly held. Closer to Beirut, in Sed El Bauchrieh, is the currently closed La Magnanerie, another neglected factory that was acquired by the Ghanem family in the 1970s. It too was refurbished to high standards for holding special events. In addition to these splendidly repurposed venues, one can also marvel at the untouched ruins of former factories, such as Kfarmatta, Maaser Beiteddine, and Ain Trez.
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