Nearly a fifth of the world’s oil flows through Hormuz. Its fragility exposes how unipolar security has failed and why multipolar cooperation is the only sustainable path forward.
The Strait of Hormuz has long been regarded as the world’s most strategic energy artery, a narrow corridor where geography, politics, and economics collide. Every day, almost one-fifth of the world’s traded oil passes through this channel, linking the oil-rich Gulf states to markets in Asia, Europe, and beyond. For decades, the specter of disruption in Hormuz has haunted global markets, sparking concerns each time tensions rise in the Persian Gulf. Yet the prevailing debate still frames Hormuz narrowly, as if it were simply a stage for confrontation between Iran and the United States, or as a security challenge to be addressed by deploying more warships. This perspective overlooks the larger reality: Hormuz is a lifeline for a deeply interconnected global economy, and its stability is a shared responsibility in an increasingly multipolar world.
The fragility of this chokepoint is underscored by numbers alone. Nearly twenty-one million barrels of oil flow through Hormuz daily, accounting for about 20 percent of global consumption. For countries like China, Japan, South Korea, and India, dependence on this passage is existential; for Europe, which relies on diversified energy imports, a closure of Hormuz would still cause a shockwave through markets. Insurance premiums, shipping costs, and global fuel prices respond instantly to even minor disturbances. The 2019 attacks on oil tankers near the strait caused immediate price spikes, proving that even symbolic disruptions can ripple worldwide. For the Global South, where many economies already suffer from fragile energy security, prolonged instability in Hormuz could lead to social unrest, inflation, and setbacks in development. Energy flowing through Hormuz is not just a commodity; it underpins livelihoods, access to basic services, and global economic stability.
Traditionally, solutions to Hormuz insecurity have been sought through military means. U.S. carrier strike groups have patrolled the Gulf for decades, joined at times by British and other allied forces. The logic is straightforward: deterrence ensures the free flow of energy. Yet this logic has limits. Deploying gunboats does not resolve the deeper causes of insecurity, such as unresolved regional rivalries, the economic warfare of sanctions, or the asymmetry between powerful external navies and weaker regional actors. Moreover, this militarized approach perpetuates the notion that the strait’s security is a Western prerogative, despite the fact that the main consumers of Gulf oil lie in Asia. For Beijing, Delhi, Tokyo, and Seoul, relying indefinitely on U.S. or British fleets for their lifeline seems increasingly unsustainable in an age where multipolarity is shaping the global order.
The actors most directly involved in Hormuz are diverse, and their interests are not easily aligned. Iran, controlling the northern shore, regards itself as the guardian of the strait and insists on its sovereign rights to monitor passage. For Tehran, threats to close Hormuz have functioned as deterrence, particularly when sanctions attempt to cut off its own oil exports. Across the Gulf, Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates have invested in pipelines that bypass Hormuz, seeking to hedge against disruption, yet they remain deeply tied to its stability. Oman, whose territory includes part of the strait, has traditionally adopted quiet diplomacy and could play an important mediating role. Meanwhile, external powers add another layer of complexity. The United States and the United Kingdom retain naval presence, projecting dominance but also raising questions about long-term sustainability. China, now the largest oil importer in the world, has a growing stake in Hormuz’s security. While Beijing has avoided direct military involvement, its dependence on Gulf energy means it cannot remain indefinitely detached. Russia, though less dependent on Gulf oil, sees strategic value in aligning with Iran and Gulf partners to challenge Western dominance. This crowded theater illustrates that Hormuz is no longer merely a bilateral matter between Washington and Tehran; it is an arena of multipolar contestation.
This shift matters because Hormuz is more than an energy chokepoint; it is a test case for how the world will govern shared vulnerabilities in an era beyond unipolarity. If security continues to be defined solely by Western patrols and unilateral sanctions, tensions will persist. But if regional and global stakeholders especially from the Global South are included in shaping frameworks, Hormuz could become an experiment in cooperative security. Models could vary. A regional security dialogue involving Iran, the Gulf states, and external partners like China and India could reduce mistrust. A multilateral consortium resembling those managing the Arctic could give producers, consumers, and littoral states a voice in setting norms. Even a limited step, such as separating economic sanctions from maritime security cooperation, could ease the cycle of escalation. The principle is clear: stability cannot be imposed from outside; it must reflect the interests of those who depend most on the strait.
The Global South in particular deserves a stronger voice. Narratives about Hormuz are too often produced in Washington, London, or Brussels, yet it is Jakarta, Nairobi, and São Paulo that will face the harshest consequences of rising fuel prices if the strait is destabilized. The dependence of the developing world on affordable energy links its fate directly to Hormuz, but its governments rarely participate in debates about securing it. This imbalance reinforces a sense of exclusion that has long haunted the global order. Multipolarity offers a chance to change that. Giving the Global South a role in energy security discussions would not only be fair; it would make stability more sustainable by acknowledging shared dependence.
Critics might argue that such multilateral arrangements are unrealistic, given entrenched rivalries and the lack of trust in the Gulf. Yet the alternative continued reliance on military deterrence and unilateral sanctions has produced little but recurring crises. A cooperative approach may be difficult, but the cost of inaction is higher. Energy security in Hormuz is not just a regional issue; it is a global commons problem, akin to climate change or food security. As such, it requires a shift in thinking: from protecting narrow national interests to managing interdependence.
The Strait of Hormuz is, ultimately, a mirror of the world order in transition. Its waters reflect the decline of unipolar dominance and the slow rise of multipolar governance. How the world responds to its fragility will tell us much about the future of global security. Will Hormuz remain a flashpoint defined by rivalry, or will it evolve into a space where cooperation tempers competition? Will energy security continue to be weaponized, or will it be reframed as a shared human necessity? The answers will not only determine the stability of oil flows; they will signal the kind of world we are entering. At stake is not just the price of fuel but the possibility of building a global order where interdependence is managed with respect rather than coercion. Hormuz is fragile, but it also offers a rare opportunity: to rethink what security means in a world where no nation can afford disruption alone.
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