We are being squeezed from both ends.
A war fought between governments is being lost by people who have no part in it. Since February 2026, the US-Israel-Iran conflict has transformed the Strait of Hormuz — a narrow passage carrying a third of the world's seaborne oil — into a chokepoint that is quietly starving clinics, emptying warehouses, and stranding food meant for children. The violence of rising prices is diffuse and invisible, but its consequences are as final as any battlefield wound.
- Oil prices have surged past $100 a barrel, and every $5 increase costs major aid organizations hundreds of thousands of dollars monthly — money that would otherwise feed tens of thousands of children.
- Medical supplies, fortified food, and fuel are stranded in transit hubs like Dubai, while clinics in Nigeria and Ethiopia are rationing electricity and Somalia has seen the cost of malnutrition medications triple.
- Aid agencies are being crushed from both sides simultaneously: Western governments have slashed foreign assistance budgets even as conflict-driven shipping costs devour emergency reserves.
- The WFP has calculated it cannot reach 1.5 million people in the coming months, and is rerouting 93,000 tonnes of food on journeys thousands of kilometers longer — adding weeks of delay for the most vulnerable.
- Fertilizer shortages are now threatening planting seasons across Africa and Asia, meaning the hunger crisis already unfolding today could deepen into a generational food security collapse if the conflict persists.
The war between the US, Israel, and Iran is being fought on a second front that no military planner drew up — in oil prices, shipping lanes, and the empty medicine shelves of clinics across Africa and Asia. Since February, oil has swung from $60 to nearly $120 a barrel, driven by the repeated closing and blockading of the Strait of Hormuz, the narrow passage through which roughly a third of the world's seaborne oil flows. The current price hovers around $111, and the damage is spreading far beyond any military objective.
Aid organizations are pleading for a humanitarian corridor through the strait. The International Rescue Committee has $130,000 worth of medical supplies stranded in Dubai — supplies needed by 20,000 people in Sudan — while generator use in its Nigerian and Ethiopian clinics has been rationed to keep the most critical services running. Save the Children estimates that every $5 rise per barrel costs the charity an additional $340,000 a month, the equivalent of a month of aid for nearly 40,000 children. If oil remains near $100 through the end of 2026, the organization faces $27 million in unplanned costs.
The timing is devastating. Western governments had already cut aid sharply — the US reduced foreign assistance by 57 percent in 2025, and the UK, Norway, Germany, and France have all pulled back. Agencies are now receiving less funding while paying more for every shipment they send. The human toll is already visible: 45 million additional people face hunger on top of the 318 million already food insecure. In Yemen, food prices have jumped 30 percent. In Afghanistan, food costs have tripled, and the WFP's usual sea route is now too dangerous — fortified biscuits for Afghan children are being trucked overland through seven countries, adding three weeks to the journey.
The World Food Programme estimates it will be unable to reach approximately 1.5 million people in the coming months. Routes that once ran through the strait now detour around the Cape of Good Hope and through the Mediterranean — an extra 9,000 kilometers. The disruption is so severe that even shipping lanes that bypass the strait are feeling the strain. And the damage reaches further still: fertilizer shortages are threatening planting seasons across Sudan, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Cambodia, and Ethiopia, with up to 45 percent of the world's seeds and fertilizers dependent on strait access. Aid workers warn that the resulting food insecurity will fuel civil conflict and migration — and that even a ceasefire declared today would take months to undo the harm already done.
The war between the US, Israel, and Iran has created a crisis that no one intended to fight on the ground. It is being fought instead in the price of oil, in the cost of shipping, in the empty shelves of clinics across Africa and Asia. Since February, when the conflict began, oil prices have swung wildly—peaking near $120 a barrel, nearly double the $60 price at the start of the year. The culprit is the strait of Hormuz, a 5-kilometer-wide passage through which roughly a third of the world's seaborne oil flows. As the US and Iran have taken turns closing and blockading it, the global supply of oil, food, fertilizer, and medicine has tightened. The current price hovers around $111 a barrel, and the damage is rippling outward in ways that have nothing to do with military strategy.
Aid organizations are now pleading for what they call a humanitarian corridor—a safe passage through the strait for food, fuel, and medicine. Bob Kitchen, vice president for emergencies at the International Rescue Committee, put it plainly: supplies are stuck in hubs like Dubai, unable to move. The IRC alone has $130,000 worth of medical supplies trapped there, supplies needed by 20,000 people in Sudan. In Nigeria and Ethiopia, government oil rationing has forced the IRC to limit generator use in its health clinics. "In certain parts of hospitals, we'll have to close off the electricity to keep more important things running," Kitchen said. The math is brutal. Save the Children estimates that every $5 increase per barrel of oil costs the charity an additional $340,000 a month in shipping, fuel, and supplies—equivalent to a month of aid for nearly 40,000 children. If oil stays around $100 for the rest of 2026, the organization will spend an extra $27 million this year alone.
The timing could hardly be worse. Western governments have already gutted their aid budgets. The US cut foreign assistance by 57 percent in 2025. UK aid last year was at its lowest since 2008. Norway, Germany, and France have all slashed their commitments. Now aid agencies are being squeezed from both directions: less money coming in, more money needed to move every shipment. "We are being squeezed from both ends," said Willem Zuidema, Save the Children's director of global supply. "While world leaders are cutting aid budgets, conflict is driving up the cost of every shipment, every sachet of food, every medical kit we send."
The human consequences are already visible. The World Food Programme estimates that 45 million additional people could go hungry—on top of the 318 million already food insecure before the conflict began. In Somalia, the cost of importing medications for acute malnutrition in children has tripled since February. Food prices there have risen 20 percent. In Yemen, where nearly half the population already needs aid after more than a decade of war, shipping costs have climbed 20 percent and food prices have jumped 30 percent. In Afghanistan, the cost of getting food into the landlocked country has tripled. The WFP's usual route through the strait of Hormuz is now too risky, so fortified biscuits destined for Afghan children are being trucked overland through seven countries, adding three weeks to the journey. "Afghan children today are going hungry as a result," said John Aylieff, the WFP's Afghanistan country director. "Many could die."
The World Food Programme, the world's largest humanitarian organization, has calculated that it will not be able to reach approximately 1.5 million people in the coming months because of the oil price increase. The organization is re-routing about 93,000 tonnes of food—fortified biscuits, nutrition supplements—meant for communities with urgent needs, including refugees fleeing the war in Sudan. What was once a straightforward sea route from India through the strait of Hormuz now requires a detour around the Cape of Good Hope, through the Mediterranean, and via the Suez Canal—an extra 9,000 kilometers and several weeks of delay. The congestion is so severe that even shipping routes that do not pass through the strait are feeling the impact.
The damage extends beyond the immediate crisis. Planting season has begun in Sudan, Pakistan, Cambodia, Bangladesh, and Ethiopia, and fertilizer shortages driven by fuel costs and shipping disruptions will cripple farmers' ability to grow crops. Up to 45 percent of the world's seeds and fertilizers depend on access through the strait of Hormuz. Nick Jones-Bannister of Mercy Corps warned that the resulting food insecurity will have cascading effects: "That will have a knock-on impact on civil conflict and on migration." Even if a ceasefire were declared tomorrow, the damage already incurred would take months to repair. In Bangladesh, staff at Brac, the world's largest development NGO, are spending five hours a week queuing for rationed fuel—time they cannot spend helping refugee communities. Robyn Savage, Care's humanitarian director, offered a grim assessment: "We haven't even seen the tip of the damage that's already been incurred."
Citas Notables
In certain parts of hospitals, we'll have to close off the electricity to keep more important things running.— Bob Kitchen, International Rescue Committee
Afghan children today are going hungry as a result. Many could die.— John Aylieff, World Food Programme Afghanistan director
We are being squeezed from both ends. While world leaders are cutting aid budgets, conflict is driving up the cost of every shipment, every sachet of food, every medical kit we send.— Willem Zuidema, Save the Children director of global supply
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does an oil price spike in the Middle East translate to children going hungry in Somalia or Afghanistan?
Because aid organizations buy food and medicine from hubs in India and Dubai, then ship it by sea to communities in Africa and Asia. When oil prices spike, shipping costs explode. A $5 jump per barrel costs Save the Children an extra $340,000 a month. That money has to come from somewhere—usually from the aid budget itself.
So the aid agencies are paying more to deliver the same amount of help?
Exactly. And they're doing it with less money than they had a year ago. The US cut foreign aid by 57 percent in 2025. The UK is at its lowest aid spending since 2008. So agencies are caught between shrinking budgets and soaring costs.
What happens when an aid organization runs out of money mid-year?
They have to choose. Do you keep the generator running in a hospital, or do you ration fuel and close off parts of the building? Do you buy enough medication for acute malnutrition, or do you stretch what you have and treat fewer children? The IRC is already making those choices in Nigeria and Ethiopia.
Is there a way around the strait of Hormuz?
There are alternative routes, but they're much longer and slower. Food meant for Afghanistan now travels by truck through seven countries instead of by ship through the strait—adding three weeks to the journey. A shipment from India to Sudan now goes around the Cape of Good Hope instead of through the Red Sea, adding 9,000 kilometers. Every extra week means supplies arrive later, and in a crisis, timing is everything.
What would a humanitarian corridor actually do?
It would guarantee safe passage for aid shipments through the strait, keeping them out of the conflict. Right now, organizations don't know if their supplies will get through or get stuck in Dubai for weeks. A corridor would restore predictability and speed, and it would lower insurance and shipping costs because the risk would be lower.
If the war ended tomorrow, would the crisis end?
Not immediately. The damage is already baked in. Planting season is starting now in Africa and Asia, and fertilizer shortages will reduce crop yields for months. Food prices will stay high. Children who went malnourished during this period will carry the health consequences for years. The ripple effects will outlast the conflict itself.