As tensions escalate around the Strait of Hormuz, governments are once again relying on militarised narratives to justify violations of international law that jeopardise the entire global economy. This latest catastrophic war clearly shows the threat that militarism poses to the planet and all life on it. It also makes one thing very clear: if security is meant to protect people, why are militarised responses putting the systems we all rely on for energy and daily life at risk? The crisis underscores the urgent need to phase out fossil fuels.
In recent days, escalating violence between the United States and Israel’s military campaign against Iran, and Iran’s retaliatory strikes, have intensified fears of disruption to one of the world’s most critical energy routes. Around a fifth of global oil supply passes through the Strait of Hormuz. Any disruption there could quickly push up fuel costs, ripple into food and transport prices, and send shockwaves far beyond the region.
This is what makes the current escalation so striking. For decades, governments like the United States and its allies have relied on military force to secure access to fossil fuels; and the global economy in turn has relied on this secure access. The result is a cycle in which resource dependence fuels geopolitical rivalry, and geopolitical rivalry justifies further militarisation. Yet the same policies today are putting those energy systems, and the people who rely on them, at risk. So-called strategic calculations—whether about regional influence, deterrence, or defending fossil-fuel dominance—are overriding the very stability they claim to protect, revealing the predictable outcome of an economic model that values control over cooperation, extraction over sustainability, and military dominance over human security.
In addition to the devastating human toll with thousands of people killed, particularly in Iran and Lebanon, the environmental cost is already visible. The strikes on Iran’s oil storage facilities have caused severe and lasting damage to public health and the environment. For nearby communities, this means polluted air, unsafe water, and long-term health risks that will outlast the conflict itself. In just its first 14 days, the US war on Iran has generated emissions equivalent to the entire annual carbon budget of the world’s 84 lowest-emitting countries combined.
The consequences are already being felt. As tensions rise, energy markets react. For millions of people, this translates into higher costs of food, transport, and basic goods. This is how a conflict in one region quickly becomes a daily reality elsewhere. These impacts are not gender-neutral. Women, who disproportionately manage household resources and care work, are often the first to absorb these shocks and the last to recover from them.
At the same time, the normalisation of threats against energy and water infrastructure reveals a deeper erosion of international norms. These are not abstract targets. They are the systems that sustain daily life. When electricity fails, hospitals falter. When water systems are disrupted, entire communities are pushed into crisis. And when systems collapse, existing inequalities deepen. In these moments, it is women and girls who bear the greatest burden and who are at the greatest risk.
What this crisis exposes is not only the violence of war, but the fragility of the fossil fuel system itself. A global economy built on a few critical choke points is inherently vulnerable. When energy depends on militarised control, disruption is not an exception, it is inevitable.
There is another path.
The solutions already exist. Renewable energy sources are sufficient to power the world – and in many cases they are already cheaper than fossil fuel. And unlike oil, they do not depend on controlling strategic routes or territories through force. What is needed is a fundamental shift toward decentralised and community-owned energy production: a model that puts power – literally and politically – in the hands of people, not corporations. A feminist approach to peace, security, and ecological justice starts from a different premise: that real security is built through meeting human needs, not defending resource flows. It requires investment in social protection, climate resilience, and a just transition away from fossil fuel dependence. It requires multilateral diplomacy grounded in accountability and international law—not unilateral threats that escalate risk for all. One concrete proposal aligned with this vision is the Feminist Foreign and Peaceful Nonproliferation Treaty (FFNPT), which reimagines global security frameworks through the lens of gender justice, human rights, and nonviolence, emphasising cooperation over coercion and the protection of communities over strategic assets.
Fossil fuels have not only shaped economies, they have shaped systems of power. This is why calls to phase out fossil fuels are not only about climate, they are about preventing future conflicts like this one.The current crisis should be a turning point. Instead, it risks becoming another chapter in a familiar and dangerous pattern of domination rather than cooperation.
We can continue to organise our economies around resources that require militaries to secure them—or we can invest in systems that are inherently more stable, shared, and just.
As long as energy is secured through militaries, insecurity will be inevitable. And as long as militarism defines security, peace and climate justice will remain out of reach.
