The ATCL provides its members with two fast charging stations. (Credit: JRB)
It was spring 2021 in Paris when Christian*, a Lebanese citizen from Ehden (North Lebanon), ordered a cab — his ride to the airport and back home.
Lebanon, his final destination, was in for a summer marred by electricity and medicine shortages. Other essential goods were already becoming scarce, and the fuel crisis was looming on the horizon.
In the City of Light, it was easy not to think of the Lebanese quagmire.
Christian is an informed man and well-versed in the automotive world. He immediately recognized the Tesla Model 100 S that came to pick him up.
Intrigued by this electric car, he examined the dashboard. The car had a mileage of “400,000 kilometers.”
“How much did it cost to maintain it so far?” Christian asked the driver. “Zero,” he replied without batting an eyelid.
Two days after his return to Lebanon, Christian went ahead and bought a BMW i3, a 100 percent electric city car.
“I didn’t buy it because of the fuel shortages. Just for fun,” he told L’Orient-Le Jour.
However, it was not too long before he sold the BMW i3 to his friend Maroun* in order to acquire its sport version, the BMW i3s, and finally opting for an Audi Q2, which was “more family-friendly.”
At first confused and even taken aback by the idea of driving these electric vehicles, the two friends now swear by them for their daily travels.
Several hundred people appeared to have followed suit and decided to give this new generation of cars, still largely unknown to the Lebanese general public, a chance.
Having identical bodies to regular cars, electric vehicles are difficult to pinpoint on the roads of Lebanon.
In a country like Lebanon, which has been in an economic and financial crisis for nearly three years and where state electricity is severely rationed, electric cars might seem a risky bet.
“The petrol shortages last summer boosted the electric car market,” said Mansour*, a former electric car dealer and himself the owner of several electric cars since 2020.
According to figures from the General Directorate of Road Traffic Department, 741 electric cars hit Lebanon’s roads between 2015 and the end of last May — 83.4 percent of those were added since the beginning of 2021.
For Mansour, “this is nothing compared to Europe, North America or even the Gulf countries.”
According to several observers, the lack of infrastructure adapted to this category of vehicles is one of the main reasons why the Lebanese, usually eager for novelty, are still lagging behind.
Électricité du Liban remains at the top of the list of reasons behind this delay.
For months now, the state electricity provider has been struggling to supply two hours of power per day to the country’s residents, who are therefore forced to spend large amounts of money on private generators, which are also subject to some rationing.
In this context, buying an electric car does not even cross the mind of most Lebanese, and remains unimaginable for many of them.
However, those who have taken the plunge are saying it loud and clear: they can’t live without them.
To better understand such a paradox, L’Orient-Le Jour went for a ride with those Lebanese who made the surprising choice to drive electric.
Silence, we are driving!
Maroun turned on the ignition and the dashboard lit up. Then, nothing. A certain confusion set in among the passengers. But when Maroun stepped on the gas pedal, the car started like a plane taking off.
The passenger could feel the car speed up but no sound was heard at all. The same goes for pedestrians and drivers on the road. Only a slight whistle could tickle some sharp ears.
Spotting a walker chatting at the window of a car stopped in the middle of the road, Maroun jumped at the opportunity to make his point.
“Look,” he warned as he sped up.
His move was calculated. He only slowed down when he drove by them. Neither the driver nor the pedestrian heard him coming. They paid attention to the passing car only when it drove past them
Delighted with his successful demonstration, Maroun, in his 60s, resumed his serious tone.
“You have to be careful with the silence of such a car,” he warned. “I’m thinking of installing a ‘beeper.’ The horn scares pedestrians,” he added.
For Christian, while the car’s silence strongly disturbed him at the beginning, it finally took him only a few days to get used to it.
“The electric car is more powerful than a thermal car and, sometimes, you don’t realize how fast you are going because of the lack of noise,” he explained.
It is even scarier.
“One day, when I was going uphill, I suddenly realized that I was going 150 km/h! Since then, I’ve set a speed limit of 90 km/h,” he said.
For thrill seekers, the lack of engine noise and vibration may prove to be a major shortcoming of electrics.
“I like speed, but with electric cars, there is no pleasure in accelerating,” said Mansour.
“Driving an electric car automatically makes you calmer and more serene. And this is true regardless of the driver’s character,” he assured.
“No more exhaust pipes, no more horses, no more ‘vroom vroom,’” he adds.
“It is as if you were becoming a more civilized human being, even more evolved,” Maroun said, in the image of this car, which is still futuristic for many.
Regenerative braking
Paradoxically, people are driving toward the future in a country that is going backwards.
With unreliable state electricity, power supply alternatives remain scarce, prompting citizens to turn to the private generator system, indispensable for charging electric cars.
“If I use a 5-amp generator to charge it, it will take seven to eight hour to charge 50 percent of the battery. With 32 amps, it will fully charge in 45 minutes,” Christian explained.
For his part, Maroun calculated everything.
Before buying his BMW i3 in 2021, he drew up “comparative tables to estimate the overall cost of using such a car compared to a thermal car.”
Having enough rechargeable batteries at home, which take over during power cuts, and using the generator of his building, Maroun, a resident of Sahel Alma (Kesrouan) has quickly tackled the issue from all angles.
This is not to mention that this would mean no more long hours waiting in line at the gas station — a great deal.
All in all, and even when calculating recharging from a private generator only, driving an electric car is two to three times cheaper than a thermal car of similar size, for Maroun.
This is a bill that would be even cheaper if the power was supplied by EDL or from solar panels — a main goal for Maroun who is seeking to consume only renewable energies and thus drive “100 percent solar.”
“With a fully charged battery, the range is over 220 kilometers,” he explained.
Therefore, since he bought his new car, Maroun has established a new routine.
“As soon as I get home, I plug my car into the electric terminal, regardless of the battery’s charge level,” he said.
The terminal is connected to a 220-volt grounded outlet.
“There is no risk of overheating because the batteries stop charging when they are full,” he explained, adding that “the plug connected to the car is blocked to prevent theft.”
In addition to this recharging system, there is an indisputable element in favor of electric cars’ consumption in a country like Lebanon: regenerative braking, which allows the battery to recharge while driving.
‘Range anxiety’
Christian finally playfully revealed the cherry on the top: “On the way down, it recharges itself.”
Christian left the coast of Jounieh (Mount Lebanon) with 270 kilometers of total battery range, driving up toward the mountainous area of Aley (Mount Lebanon). When he reached his destination, he was left with 85 kilometers. But when he drove back to his starting point, “it was [charged] up to 269 kilometers.”
While he is used to this pattern, Maroun still calculates his distances by reflex.
“The range anxiety is real, especially at the beginning,” he said.
A dozen charging stations have been installed throughout Lebanon, including at large gas stations owned by Medco and IPT, in private locations such as the Automobile and Touring Club of Lebanon (ATCL) and in the parking lots of some dealerships and commercial spaces such as ABC or Spinneys.
This is mainly the case between the capital and the Mount Lebanon area. Beyond that, “there are none or not enough,” according to the three interviewees.
For now, these terminals offer “one kilowatt-hour (kWh) at about LL12,500,” Mansour notes, a rate that adjusts each month to the price of the kWh produced by private generators set by the Ministry of Energy and Water (LL12,568 in May).
“But it will go up,” he said
However, "I only use these terminals when I need to, since I have electricity at home and at my workplace,” Maroun said.
Moreover, putting aside public transport, few drivers travel more than 200 kilometers a day.
“On average, I only charge it twice a week,” said Mansour.
“Given its small size and mountainous nature, Lebanon is an ideal terrain for these vehicles,” Christian said.
Another upside of an electric car is that it requires very few spare parts or periodic maintenance.
Only the replacement of the batteries would require a serious outlay, “but they are designed for nearly 400,000 kilometers, a distance too long for a country like ours, unless you are a cab driver,” Christian added.
These arguments are rather convincing since, according to several Lebanese dealers, the number of sales continues to climb. The electric car market in Lebanon seems ready to catch up.
The state lags behind
Sitting behind his desk in his office in Dbayeh (Metn), which overlooks a fleet of nearly a hundred cars, Rabih Tohme, one of the largest importers of used electric cars through his company Tohme Motors, was talking with a customer.
After getting enough information, the customer leaves the dealership with a satisfied look on his face.
“You’re just in time! He will come back in a few days to finalize the purchase of an electric Smart,” Tohme announced.
Between two phone calls, he told L’Orient-Le Jour that he embarked on this adventure in 2020.
“At the time, the concept of driving electric was almost unheard of in Lebanon. Sensing the opportunity, I imported half a dozen of them to test the waters. I sold them all in the same year,” he said.
Encouraged by this result, Tohme thinks bigger in 2021 and decides to import 20 more.
The result is the same, all the cars were sold. The unending queues around the gas stations that began in mid-2021 played a major role in these purchase decisions.
So, for 2022, given soaring global fuel prices and the specter of the previous summer’s shortages looming, Tohme is no longer hesitating.
“I have about 40 electric cars on my lot today and, if all goes according to plan, they should all be sold by the end of the year,” he said.
Smart, BMW, Audi, Volkswagen, Nissan, Renault: there’s something for every taste and budget.
While some vehicles can exceed $100,000, like the Tesla, which is only available on order, a large proportion of electric cars are sold for between $18,000 and $40,000, depending on the model and the production year.
Mostly paid for in cash, they are therefore not out of line with the overall car market.
Nevertheless, the profile of the buyers is quite similar: Financially well off, the vast majority are between 30 and 50 years old and have a reliable source of electricity at home or at work. This is a privileged profile, certainly.
But while the Lebanese are taking the lead, the state continues to lag behind in this field.
In many countries the authorities offer incentives and bonuses for the purchase of electric vehicles. In Lebanon, the only positive point to note in this respect is the exemption of imported new electric cars from customs duties since 2018.
But expanding the scope of these exemptions to include used electric cars and the 11 percent VAT (which is added to the sales price) would come at a loss of revenue for the state, which is currently fighting a seemingly losing battle to clean up its public finances.
In any case, the electric car “is the future,” Mansour said.
With the global problems related to hydrocarbons, “the world is slowly but surely moving in this direction,” he added.
It remains for Lebanon to follow.
*Family names are withheld at the request of the interviewees.
This article was originally published in French in L'Orient-Le Jour. Translation by Sahar Ghoussoub.
