Climate change threatens global peace as food insecurity reshapes land value and competition

The world's food system is fracturing under pressure from three directions at once: climate shocks that are shrinking harvests, wars that are choking supply chains, and a cascade of secondary effects that no one fully predicted. A new research framework called the Climate-Driven Agricultural Decline Index has begun mapping where these pressures are most likely to break into open conflict—and the answer is more complicated than simple scarcity.

Severe droughts and extreme weather are already damaging crops across multiple continents. Australia, Argentina, Moldova, Nigeria, Romania, Sudan, and the United States have all experienced measurable agricultural losses compared to harvests from three decades ago. Northern Africa presents perhaps the starkest picture: researchers describe the productivity maps as "terrible" and "horrible." Meanwhile, geopolitical ruptures are amplifying the damage. The war in Ukraine has repeatedly destabilized grain markets. The conflict in Iran has disrupted the Strait of Hormuz, sending fertilizer and fuel costs upward everywhere, making farming more expensive for producers who have nothing to do with either war. Within the next quarter-century, nearly half the world's population could be living in regions where farms produce less food than they do today.

But here is where the research diverges from the conventional wisdom: the greatest risk is not hunger itself, but whether societies can negotiate the upheaval without violence. Hannes Mueller, a researcher at the Institute for Economic Analysis and the Barcelona School of Economics, and his colleagues found something counterintuitive. Agricultural gains in some places increase conflict risk just as much as losses do. Climate change does not simply make regions poorer. It reshapes which land is valuable and who controls it. In Sudan, for instance, some areas are projected to become more productive as the climate shifts—but others will suffer. This creates internal winners and losers, and with them, new grounds for fighting. Even more striking: people may fight over land that is not yet productive, anticipating future value. "If we know that your land is going to become more productive, maybe I want to grab it from you today," Mueller said. "That is exactly where negotiations break down and where we will have violence."

This dynamic is already visible in wealthy, stable regions. Major wine producers in Europe have begun buying up mountainous land where grapes cannot yet grow profitably, but where climate models suggest they will thrive in two or three decades. Local farmers are being displaced. Land prices are rising. Conflicts over something that exists only in projection are already beginning. The same pattern is repeating across the world as agricultural companies acquire territory based on future productivity maps.

The research reveals a stark institutional divide. In democracies, competing interests over resources tend to be channeled into negotiation rather than violence. Courts, legislatures, and local institutions create platforms where disputes can be aired and resolved without arms. "Democracies may look annoying and cumbersome," Mueller observed. "Nothing moves as fast as people want. But this is a great thing because it makes people talk to each other." In non-democracies, where such institutions are weak or absent, the same climate shocks and resource competition are far more likely to trigger armed conflict. Food insecurity can destabilize governments, fuel migration, and make it easier for armed groups to recruit. In fragile states, these pressures can tip the balance toward crisis.

South Asia stands as the most acute warning case. The region is home to roughly two billion people and depends heavily on imports—wheat, maize, and palm oil from Russia, Ukraine, Canada, and Malaysia. Local agriculture is simultaneously under siege from heat waves, floods, declining productivity, and saltwater intrusion as sea levels rise. The Himalayas and Hindu Kush mountains supply most of the region's water for farming and drinking. Climate change is accelerating glacial melt. In the short term, this increases water availability. But later in the century, the region could face what experts call "a huge humanitarian crisis" affecting around two billion people. The August 2026 floods in Nepal offered a preview of the long-term challenges that will become routine. When people cannot feed themselves, they seek other livelihoods—sometimes with terrorist groups, as has happened in Nigeria and Afghanistan. When governments fail to protect their citizens' ability to survive, their legitimacy erodes, and that erosion can escalate into violence.

The core insight is that climate adaptation cannot be purely technical—new crops, new technologies, irrigation systems. Societies must also adapt to fundamental shifts in who owns land, who has access to water, and who can make a living. The question that will determine whether the world absorbs these shocks or fractures along them is whether institutions exist to manage the negotiation. Where governments, courts, and local bodies can help communities navigate new realities, pressure may be absorbed. Where those institutions are weak, the pressure on food systems becomes pressure on peace itself.