The sharp swings in oil prices following the latest round of attacks and negotiations over safe passage through the Strait of Hormuz demonstrate that wars do not always reveal themselves first on the battlefield. Sometimes, their earliest signs appear on gas-station price boards, in transportation bills, and on the balance sheets of farmers standing thousands of miles from the front lines. Now that the confrontation between the United States and Iran has moved beyond pressure and deterrence and turned into direct military conflict, the issue is no longer limited to security calculations. It is about the real costs of war – costs increasingly borne by American farmers, truck drivers, and consumers.
The economic effects of this war are being transmitted through channels that are highly sensitive for Washington politically: energy markets, inflation, supply chains, and, above all, agriculture. A war that Trump justifies in the language of national security and displays of strength could, in practice, become a self-inflicted shock to the U.S. economy. That is the central contradiction: the most direct pressure is falling on the very social and economic constituency Trump has repeatedly claimed to defend – the American farm belt.
The Energy Shock, From Hormuz to American Farms
The Strait of Hormuz, through which roughly 20 percent of global petroleum liquids consumption passes, now lies at the center of the conflict. Repeated surges and declines in oil prices show that even news of a temporary pause – or the possibility of renewed escalation – can shake the energy market. Higher fuel prices feed directly into transportation, production, and consumer-goods costs, adding to inflationary pressure. This also leaves monetary policymakers caught between controlling inflation and preventing a further slowdown in economic growth.
Market instability and direct military expenditures are rising as well. The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan showed that the true cost of military conflict often extends far beyond initial estimates. Brown University’s Costs of War Project has placed the cost of the post-9/11 wars at approximately $8 trillion. A war with Iran, particularly if it becomes prolonged or expands geographically, could generate new and uncertain financial commitments. Yet one of its deepest and least visible consequences may be felt not on Wall Street, but on American farms.
Modern American agriculture is intensely dependent on energy. Diesel powers farm machinery; natural gas is a primary input in the production of nitrogen fertilizers; and gasoline and transportation fuels move crops from farms to markets. The U.S. Department of Agriculture has repeatedly shown that higher energy prices increase production costs and reduce farm income, ultimately affecting food prices.
The pressure is even more severe in the fertilizer market. The production of ammonia and urea is directly dependent on natural gas, while disruption in the Strait of Hormuz has constrained global supplies of raw materials and fertilizer. During the first weeks of the war, urea prices nearly doubled, leaving American farmers to confront fuel-price increases and supply shortages at the same time. Under such conditions, corn production, which requires more nitrogen fertilizer, becomes especially vulnerable. Farmers may be forced to choose among reducing planted acreage, switching crops, or accepting substantially higher costs.
The “America First” Contradiction in the Farm Belt
A second blow is arriving through exports and transportation. American agriculture depends on foreign markets to sustain farm income, but the war has increased shipping-insurance premiums, freight rates, and transit times. During periods of intensified fighting, some insurers have advised shipowners to suspend passage through Hormuz, while war-risk premiums for regional voyages have risen to several times their prewar levels. Even when agricultural cargoes do not pass directly through the strait, higher energy prices and disruption across the Persian Gulf and Red Sea can raise the overall cost of trade.
Alongside these logistical disruptions lies the serious danger of permanently losing markets. Trump’s first trade war with China established a warning precedent: U.S. soybean exports to China fell by approximately 74 percent between 2017 and 2018. Once major buyers turn to alternative suppliers such as Brazil, Argentina, or Australia, winning them back remains difficult even after the crisis ends. The war with Iran could similarly encourage trading partners to diversify their purchasing sources more quickly and reduce their dependence on American suppliers.
This pressure is arriving at a time when U.S. agriculture is already burdened by heavy debt. The Department of Agriculture has projected that total farm-sector debt will reach approximately $624.7 billion in 2026. The combination of higher input costs, narrower profit margins, greater export difficulties, and more expensive financing limits the ability of family farms to absorb another shock. In agriculture-dependent states such as Iowa, Indiana, and Nebraska, as well as in rural parts of Illinois, this economic pressure carries an additional political contradiction: many of the communities that have supported Trump’s policies are among those most exposed to the economic consequences of the war.
The long-term consequences will not be confined to a single growing season. Each wave of farm closures or consolidation makes it more difficult for a new generation to enter agriculture. According to the 2022 Census of Agriculture, the average age of American producers had reached 58.1, and continued financial pressure could accelerate the aging of the sector. At the same time, instability in production and delivery weakens America’s reputation as a reliable supplier – a reputation essential to global food security and long-term commercial contracts.
The contradiction in Trump’s policy becomes clear here. A president who came to power promising “America First” and the revival of the rural economy is now leading a war whose costs are being transferred directly to agriculture. The pattern recalls the trade war with China, when the administration paid farmers approximately $23 billion through the Market Facilitation Program to offset tariff-related losses. Those payments compensated for some short-term damage, but they did not fully restore lost markets, rebuild buyers’ confidence, or reverse changes in global trade flows.
Emergency assistance in the current war would face the same limitations. A subsidy may save a single growing season, but it cannot eliminate higher structural costs, immediately bring back lost customers, or repair long-term market confidence. The war with Iran, therefore, is not a limited and carefully calculated risk for the American economy. It is a self-inflicted shock striking one of the economy’s most vulnerable sectors.
The final question is whether mounting pressure from agriculture-dependent states can alter Washington’s calculations. Whatever the objectives of the war may be, the administration has yet to offer a convincing explanation for why achieving them should come at the cost of weakening a part of the American economy whose markets, family farms, and buyer confidence could take years to rebuild.
