Argan Oil's Popularity Threatens Morocco's Drought-Stricken Trees

The Value and Vulnerability of Argan Oil in Morocco

Argan oil, often referred to as liquid gold, has a unique texture that glides through fingers like a luxurious balm. It is celebrated globally for its cosmetic benefits, but in Morocco, it holds a deeper significance. For rural women, it represents a lifeline, offering a modest income in an economy where opportunities are scarce. However, the growing demand for argan oil is placing immense pressure on the very forests that sustain this tradition.

The process of making argan oil involves women working tirelessly at stone mills, grinding down kernels. One kilogram of oil requires roughly two days of labor, earning them around $3—enough for a modest living. This work connects them to generations past, preserving cultural practices passed down through families. Fatma Mnir, a cooperative worker, emphasized that these traditions are deeply rooted in nature and heritage.

Long a staple in local markets, argan oil has now found its way into luxury hair and skincare products sold worldwide. Yet, its popularity comes with consequences. Overharvesting, combined with droughts, is straining the argan forests, which were once considered resilient in harsh conditions.

Hafida El Hantati, owner of one of the cooperatives, highlighted the broader implications of losing the argan trees. “We must take care of this tree and protect it because if we lose it, we will lose everything that defines us,” she said at the Ajddigue cooperative near Essaouira.

A Forest in Decline

For centuries, argan trees have thrived in the arid hills between the Atlantic Ocean and the Atlas Mountains. They support life by feeding people and animals, stabilizing soil, and preventing desert expansion. These spiny trees can survive in areas with less than an inch of annual rain and temperatures up to 50 degrees Celsius (122 Fahrenheit). Their deep roots allow them to endure droughts, and goats play a role in their regeneration cycle by eating fruit and dispersing seeds.

Moroccans use argan oil in various ways, from adding it to nut butters to drizzling it over tagines. Rich in vitamin E, it is used to moisturize dry skin and hair, and some even apply it to treat eczema or heal chickenpox. However, the forest is shrinking. Trees bear fewer fruits, and many areas have been replaced by cultivated land for citrus and tomatoes, often grown for export.

Communities once managed the forests collectively, setting rules for grazing and harvesting. But today, the system is breaking down, with theft becoming increasingly common.

Ecological Challenges

Scientists warn that argan trees are not invincible. At the turn of the century, the forest covered about 5,405 square miles (14,000 square kilometers), but it has shrunk by 40%. Zoubida Charrouf, a chemist researching argan at Université Mohammed V in Rabat, described the slow disappearance of the trees as an ecological disaster.

Climate change is contributing to the problem, with shifting seasons causing fruit and flowers to sprout earlier each year. Goats, while essential for seed dispersal, can be destructive when they feed on young seedlings. Overgrazing has worsened as herders and fruit collectors move into new areas. Additionally, camels bred by wealthy locals also pose a threat, as they can strip entire branches from trees.

Economic Struggles and Market Pressures

Today, women across hundreds of cooperatives peel, crack, and press argan seeds for oil. Much of it moves through middlemen to be sold in products by major companies like L’Oréal, Unilever, and Estée Lauder. However, workers say they earn little while profits flow elsewhere. Prices have skyrocketed, with a 1-liter bottle selling for 600 Moroccan dirhams ($60), up from 25 dirhams ($2.50) three decades ago.

The coronavirus pandemic disrupted global demand and prices, leading many cooperatives to close. New competitors have flooded the market just as drought has reduced oil yields. Despite being set up to provide women with base pay and shared profits, few make more than Morocco’s minimum wage.

Some businesses claim that large multinational companies use their size to control prices and push out smaller players. Khadija Saye, co-owner of Ageourde Cooperative, expressed concerns about monopolies. “Don’t compete with the poor for the one thing they live from,” she said. “When you take their model and do it better because you have money, it’s not competition, it’s displacement.”

One company, Olvea, controls 70% of the export market, according to data from local cooperatives. Cooperatives say few can match its capacity to fulfill big orders for global brands.

Efforts to Preserve the Forest

On a hill overlooking the Atlantic, a government water truck waters saplings planted as part of a 2018 initiative. The project involves planting 39 square miles (100 square kilometers) of argan trees on private lands adjacent to the forests. To conserve water and improve soil fertility, argan trees are alternated with capers in a technique called intercropping.

The goal is to expand forest cover and demonstrate that argan can be a sustainable source of income. Officials hope this will ease pressure on overharvested areas and encourage reinvestment in the land. However, the trees, expected to start producing this year, have not done so due to ongoing drought.

Another challenge is the supply chain. Between the woman in the village and the final buyer, there are four intermediaries, each taking a cut. Cooperatives struggle to store goods and often sell cheaply to those who pay upfront.

The government has attempted to build storage centers to help producers negotiate better deals. So far, these efforts have not worked well, but a new version is expected in 2026 with fewer barriers to access.

Despite the challenges, there is still potential for profit. During harvest season, women walk into the forest with sacks, searching for fallen fruit. For El Hantati, the forest feels quieter now, with only the winds and creaking trees audible. Goats climb branches in search of remaining fruits and leaves.

“When I was young, we’d head into the forest at dawn with our food and spend the whole day gathering. The trees were green all year long,” she said. She worries about the future as younger generations pursue education and opportunities in larger cities.

“I’m the last generation that lived our traditions—weddings, births, even the way we made oil. It’s all fading.”