Who are we buying the food away from?
A war whose fires burn in the Middle East has reached into the soil of every farm on earth. The blockage of the Strait of Hormuz has severed the flow of nitrogen fertiliser, and with it, the quiet arithmetic that feeds billions. What begins as a shipping disruption ends as a question of moral geography — which nations can afford to eat, and which cannot.
- Half a million tons of nitrogen fertiliser go unproduced every week, threatening to cut crop yields in half before a single harvest is lost.
- Fertiliser prices have surged 80% since the conflict began, trapping farmers between soaring input costs and crop prices that refuse to follow.
- A global bidding war for food is forming — one that wealthy nations are already winning, pricing developing countries out of their own survival.
- The UK faces 10% food inflation by December, a manageable sting for some, but a signal of catastrophe for nations with no financial cushion.
- Yara's CEO is pressing European policymakers to reckon with a hard truth: the purchasing power of the rich is not neutral — it decides who goes hungry.
The war in Iran has sent a shockwave through the world's food supply, one that most people will not feel until they stand at a checkout or face an empty plate. At its centre is a simple but devastating chain: the Strait of Hormuz is blocked, fertiliser cannot move, and without fertiliser, crops fail.
Svein Tore Holsether, chief executive of Yara, one of the world's largest fertiliser producers, has put a number to the silence: up to ten billion meals per week will go unmade. Half a million tons of nitrogen fertiliser that would ordinarily be produced each week simply are not. Farmers who skip that application face yields cut by as much as half in the first season alone.
The pressure is not only on harvests. Fertiliser prices have climbed 80% since the conflict began, and farmers are absorbing the blow from both ends — paying more for everything they need while receiving no more for what they grow. The economics of planting are quietly breaking down.
The cruelest arithmetic falls on the poorest nations. Holsether describes a coming bidding war for available food supplies, one that wealthy countries like those in Europe are positioned to win. When European buyers outbid developing nations, the most vulnerable populations face not just higher prices but the collapse of food affordability altogether.
Britain will not see empty shelves, but it will feel the shift. Food inflation could reach 10% by December — a strain for struggling households, and a stark reminder that the same market forces causing inconvenience in wealthy nations are causing hunger elsewhere. Holsether's warning to policymakers is unsparing: the act of outbidding a poorer nation for grain is itself a moral choice, and the window to resolve this before the planting season becomes a season of scarcity is narrowing.
The war in Iran has created a crisis that reaches far beyond the Middle East. Shipping through the Strait of Hormuz has ground to a halt, and with it, the flow of fertiliser and its raw materials has stopped. The consequence, according to Svein Tore Holsether, the chief executive of Yara—one of the world's largest fertiliser manufacturers—is staggering: up to ten billion meals per week will not be produced globally as a result.
Holsether laid out the arithmetic plainly. Half a million tons of nitrogen fertiliser that would normally be manufactured each week is simply not being made. Without that fertiliser, farmers cannot maintain their crop yields. Skip the nitrogen application entirely, and some crops will produce half of what they normally would in the first season alone. The math is brutal and immediate.
But the crisis is not just about production. Fertiliser prices have jumped eighty percent since the conflict began. Farmers are caught in a vise. Their input costs—energy, diesel for tractors, fertiliser itself—are climbing steeply. Yet the prices they receive for their crops have not risen to match. They are absorbing losses with every planting season, squeezed between what they must pay and what the market will give them.
The poorest countries will suffer most acutely. Holsether warned of a coming bidding war for food, one in which wealthy nations like those in Europe have the resources to outbid developing countries for available supplies. When that happens, he said, the most vulnerable populations—those already living on thin margins—will face the highest prices. Food affordability will collapse in places least able to absorb the shock. Hunger will follow.
The United Kingdom itself is unlikely to face actual food shortages. British supermarket shelves will not empty. But the cost of food is already beginning to move. The Food and Drink Federation has forecast that food inflation in the UK could reach ten percent by December. That increase will show up in weekly shopping bills within months. For households with comfortable incomes, it will be an annoyance. For families in poorer nations competing against European buyers for the same grain and protein, it will be catastrophic.
Holsether's message to European policymakers was direct: consider the consequences of your purchasing power. When you bid up the price of food, you are deciding who eats and who does not. The fertiliser shortage is a technical problem with a global solution, but the distribution of its burden is a moral one. The question now is whether the conflict will be resolved before the spring planting season turns into a summer of scarcity.
Notable Quotes
Up to half a million tons of nitrogen fertiliser not being produced in the world right now because of the situation we are in. What does that mean for food production? Up to 10 billion meals that will not be produced every week as a result of the lack of fertilisers.— Svein Tore Holsether, CEO of Yara
In a bidding war on food, Europe is robust enough to handle it, but we need to keep in mind who we are buying the food away from. The most vulnerable people pay the highest price for this in developing nations where they cannot afford to follow that.— Svein Tore Holsether, CEO of Yara
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
When you say ten billion meals won't be produced, what does that actually mean for a person living in, say, Bangladesh or Kenya?
It means less food available in their markets, and what is available costs more. If you're already spending seventy percent of your income on food, a price spike of even twenty or thirty percent can mean your family eats less. Skipping meals becomes a choice you have to make.
But couldn't farmers just use less fertiliser and accept lower yields? Why is this a crisis rather than just an adjustment?
Because a fifty percent drop in yield in a single season isn't an adjustment—it's a collapse. A farmer in sub-Saharan Africa doesn't have reserves to absorb that. They're not operating with margins. One bad season can mean debt, loss of land, or worse.
The UK won't face shortages, but prices will rise. Is that fair?
Fair is the wrong word. It's logical given how markets work, but it's also revealing. Wealthy countries can outbid poor ones. So the shortage gets distributed by ability to pay, not by need.
What does Holsether want Europe to do about it?
He's asking them to think before they bid. To recognize that when you have purchasing power and someone else doesn't, your choices have consequences for their survival. It's not a plea for charity—it's a plea for awareness.
Can this be fixed?
The fertiliser production can resume if shipping reopens. But the damage to farmers' finances and to food security in poor countries will take much longer to repair.