About

A 20-Year European Tobacco Industry Insider’s Reflections on Cigarettes

When I first walked into that Brussels factory in 2005, I smelled more than tobacco—there was the weight of centuries of tradition mixed with the tension of an industry under constant scrutiny. Twenty years later, my relationship with cigarettes has evolved from technical curiosity to something far more complex: a deep understanding of their place in culture, commerce, and controversy.

The craftsmanship still surprises people. Few realize that premium European blends involve leaves aged for up to five years, monitored in climate-controlled cellars like fine wine. I’ve overseen blending rooms where master blenders—some with fourth-generation knowledge—mix dozens of varieties, adjusting ratios by grams to achieve that distinctive “profile.” A single batch might combine Virginia tobaccos for sweetness, Burley for body, and Oriental leaves for that subtle spice note smokers recognize instantly. It’s meticulous work, born from a heritage that predates modern regulations.

But tobacco’s story isn’t just about craft—it’s about human connection. I’ve met farmers in Greece who tend tobacco fields as their grandparents did, their hands stained brown from harvesting. In Germany, I’ve talked to corner shop owners who remember regulars asking for their “usual” for decades. These aren’t just commercial transactions; they’re rituals, small constants in people’s lives. Of course, we’ve always known cigarettes carry risks—that’s why, long before strict laws, our packaging began including mild warnings. But seeing firsthand how deeply ingrained smoking is in social rituals—after-work conversations, café meetings, quiet moments of reflection—shows how complicated the relationship really is.

The industry’s transformation during my career has been profound. When I started, advertising was still common in some European countries. Now, we operate in a world of strict regulations: plain packaging, graphic health warnings, complete bans on promotion. At first, these changes felt restrictive, but they forced us to adapt. We invested heavily in harm reduction research, developing alternatives that aim to provide nicotine without burning tobacco. It’s a shift that reflects a broader truth: the industry doesn’t ignore public health concerns anymore—it engages with them, even if progress feels slow.

Do I have regrets? Absolutely. I’ve seen the impact of smoking-related illnesses, and it’s a reminder that our products demand responsibility. That’s why I’ve always advocated for stricter age verification and against youth smoking. But I also recognize that adults make informed choices. Many of our consumers are aware of the risks; they continue because smoking serves a purpose in their lives—comfort, stress relief, a moment of pause in a busy world.

After two decades, I see cigarettes not as a simple product but as a reflection of human complexity. They’re tied to tradition and innovation, pleasure and caution, individual choice and collective health. My time in this industry has taught me that nuance matters—rejecting oversimplification, respecting both the risks and the realities of adult consumption, and always prioritizing responsibility.

As I look to the future, I’m curious to see how tobacco evolves further. But whatever changes come, I’ll carry these lessons: that even in controversial industries, there’s craftsmanship worth acknowledging, and that understanding comes not from judgment, but from seeing the full picture.