Italian
Traffic in the Strait of Hormuz does not stop only due to mines or military ships. It stops earlier, much earlier: when trust is lost. An oil tanker can cross that stretch of water only if there is a system that supports it — insurance, credit, logistics, final destinations. When that network falters, the sea becomes irrelevant, even if it remains physically navigable.
IRAN. This is exactly what happened in the weeks following the escalation between the United States, Israel, and Iran. Tehran’s response was unconventional: not a total military shutdown, but a strategy built on uncertainty. Statements, targeted attacks, widespread threats. Within hours, the perceived risk surpassed the real one. Major insurance providers withdrew or drastically increased premiums. The result was immediate: reduced traffic, ships stranded, costs skyrocketed.
The structural data is known but often underestimated: about 20% of the world’s oil and a significant share of liquefied natural gas pass through this narrow corridor. It’s not just an energy issue. Fertilizers, food goods, raw materials: a significant part of global supply chains depends on that passage. When it is blocked, the effect is systemic.
Not surprisingly, on April 17, during the international conference dedicated to maritime security in the Strait, Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni emphasized how freedom of navigation represents “a cornerstone principle of international law” and an economic and strategic priority for Italy and Europe. The reopening of Hormuz, she highlighted, is not only a technical necessity but an essential condition for any negotiation path in the Middle Eastern crisis.
The point, however, is that the crisis has already triggered a deeper change. When a chokepoint becomes unstable, the global system reacts. Not out of political choice, but out of economic necessity. Saudi Arabia and the UAE have accelerated the use of alternative infrastructures: pipelines to the Red Sea, terminals outside the Persian Gulf, energy corridors that reduce dependence on Hormuz. Projects like the IMEC (India-Middle East-Europe Corridor) are back at the center of strategic discussion.
It is a slow but irreversible process. Each crisis reinforces the idea that concentrating such a significant share of global flows in a single passage is a risk no longer sustainable. Paradoxically, it is precisely the threat of closure that makes the Strait less central in the long term.
In the meantime, however, the present remains fragile. Tensions among Western allies have emerged more clearly. Israel’s strategies, focused on security and containing Iran, do not always align with the economic needs of Europe and Asia, which are more exposed to energy consequences. The United States once again bears the greater operational burden, while other actors oscillate between political caution and internal constraints.
Europe, for its part, is trying to build a multi-level response. In Meloni’s words, the solution cannot be solely military: an approach that integrates diplomacy, security, and humanitarian intervention is needed. The possibility of an international naval presence remains on the table, but is contingent on a key condition: the cessation of hostilities and coordination with regional actors.
Meanwhile, the Hormuz crisis continues to reveal a structural truth of globalization: there are no longer any local crises. Any disruption in a strategic node propagates throughout the entire network. And every choice — military, economic, or political — produces effects that go far beyond the theater in which it originates.
The future of the Strait will not only be played out in the waters of the Gulf, but in the infrastructures that will be built elsewhere and in the political decisions that will reshape global routes. Hormuz remains central, but perhaps no longer inevitable.
