Analysis | Russia’s war in Ukraine is going to increase global food insecurity

Emily Crane Linn and Kelly McFarland

In Afghanistan, half the population is food insecure and 9 million people are on the brink of starvation. Russia’s invasion of Ukraine will disrupt delivery of critical food aid there. (Image: Wanman uthmaniyyah on Unsplash)

The world currently stands riveted on, and united against, Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. News reports have focused on Ukraine’s surprising resistance, the flood of Ukrainian refugees streaming westward, and the impacts of this conflict on the global energy sector. However, as the consequences of the conflict continue to ripple outward, there is another sector facing shockwaves, whose impacts could be far more devastating to global citizens: the global food system.

As the Institute for the Study of Diplomacy highlighted in its 2021 New Global Commons working group report, “Peace Through Food: Ending the Hunger-Instability Nexus,” conflict drives food insecurity. At the same time, hunger can also be a major driver of instability and conflict. We are likely to see both pain points exacerbated around the world in the weeks and months ahead as Russia continues its invasion of Ukraine. Within Ukraine itself, Russia’s strategy seems to be increasingly focused on encircling and laying siege to major cities, which will likely lead to extreme shortages of supplies and food. We are already seeing empty shelves in major Ukrainian cities. This has the potential to create situations of acute hunger for local citizens.

More broadly, people around the globe are also at risk of greater levels of food insecurity due to Russia’s war with Ukraine, even those thousands of miles removed. Russia and Ukraine are, in many ways, the world’s breadbasket. According to The New York Times, “the two countries account for 29 percent of global exports of wheat.” Moreover, just days into the fighting, “wheat futures jumped 12 percent on the Chicago Board of Trade. This increase topped already inflated prices.”

Egypt, which relies on Russia and Ukraine for 85 percent of its wheat imports, is already scrambling to increase domestic production, in hopes of offsetting the impacts of these commodity shocks. In Tunisia, the timing could not be worse: the country was already struggling to pay for its wheat imports before this crisis, leading to shortages of pasta and couscous, important household staples. Now, with 50 percent of its regular wheat imports in question, the government finds itself in an increasingly precarious position. Across the MENA region, fears are mounting that the Russian invasion “could drive millions of people into food poverty.” Lebanon, meanwhile, relies on Ukraine for 60 percent of its wheat imports and has only one month of reserves, according to the country’s economy minister.

Beyond the economic and health implications of such an outcome, there is increasing concern that these shocks could lead to renewed political instability in the region. In Egypt, the relationship between food price increases and political unrest is undeniable: increases in food prices in 1977 and 2008 led to massive “bread riots” — and the last surge in food prices in 2010 was a factor in dictator Hosni Mobarak’s ultimate downfall.

In Tunisia, the country’s dire economic situation has already paved the way for a brazen power grab by President Kais Saied last summer. Since then, the president has ruled by decree, enjoying cautious popular support– contingent on his ability to turn the economy around. These shocks to the global grain supply will deal a harsh blow to an already struggling economy– and could spell the end of the president’s tenuous social contract with his people, who have already demonstrated their ability and willingness to hold their political leaders to account.

Beyond the MENA region, the Russian invasion is likely to deepen and worsen food insecurity at a time when hunger is already at an all-time high in many places. As our report emphasizes, the COVID-19 pandemic drove 120 million new people into food insecurity in the past two years, bringing the total number of food-insecure people to 800 million worldwide. In Yemen, half the population is already food insecure and 5 million people are on the brink of famine after eight years of brutal civil war. Food costs have already doubled in the past year, forcing the U.N. World Food Program to cut rations for 8 million of the 13 million people it feeds. The situation is even more dire in Afghanistan, where nearly 23 million people are food insecure and 9 million are on the brink of starvation as a result of the economic fallout since the Taliban takeover in August. Meanwhile in Latin America, hunger rose more sharply in 2020 than in any other region in the world, with 60 million people now facing food insecurity there– the highest number since 2000.

The crisis in Ukraine underscores how interconnected– and fragile– the global food system is. Conflict in one country can trigger economic shocks the world over, deepening food insecurity and plunging millions into food poverty for the first time. A global pandemic can instantly interrupt global food supply chains, leading to soaring food prices and creating famine conditions in countries already grappling with war and slow economic growth. Food supply shocks can worsen inflation and cause shortages of critical food staples, spurring public anger, political instability, and even conflict. And to top it all off, climate change delivers additional unpredictability, chaos, and suffering to those countries least equipped to deal with its effects.

There is no question that the global food system is broken, unable to withstand the pressures of climate change, a global pandemic, and simultaneous humanitarian catastrophes. The crisis caused by Russia’s invasion proves this. Global policy makers must reimagine a better way to feed the planet– or risk that the current crisis will become the norm.

This publication was made possible in part by a grant from the Carnegie Corporation of New York. The statements made and views expressed are solely the responsibility of the authors.

Emily Crane Linn is a research assistant for the Institute for the Study of Diplomacy. She is in her second year of her Global Human Development master’s degree at Georgetown, with a Certificate in Refugees and Humanitarian Emergencies. Emily is also one of ISD’s inaugural McHenry Fellows.

Kelly McFarland is a U.S. diplomatic historian and the director of programs and research at the Institute for the Study of Diplomacy. Follow him on Twitter @McFarlandKellyM.

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