guardian

All my life, the widely shared assumption has been that there will always be food to buy – albeit at a price. No more. Suddenly, Russia’s successful blockade of Ukraine, choking off its crucially important exports of grain and oilseeds, has challenged all that. The west is right to hail Ukraine’s remarkable achievements on the battlefield – but Russia holds cards in this war that may yet prove to its decisive advantage. When the UN secretary-general warns of the spectre of a world food shortage, take notice. Equally, the governor of the Bank of England has been much derided for warning of a food apocalypse: he may choose his words clumsily, but he is right.

What is provoking these warnings is that there is no way to replace Ukrainian grain exports, which constitute 9% of the world’s, made worse by the decline in Russia’s grain exports. Only a fraction of Ukraine’s cereal harvests can find their way into global markets via road or through ports in Romania – and Russia has no intention of lifting its blockade while it faces sanctions that may last years, given the stalemate in Ukraine.

The price of grain is thus certain to rise – it is already 59% higher than in January – reflecting that there is less to go around. Those who can’t pay will simply go without, raising the prospect of famine spreading to hundreds of millions in poorer countries and a new flood of refugees.
The food crisis is what happens when global chains collapse. We might need to get used to it