Global energy trade once again looks like a fragile construction. The war around the Persian Gulf has disrupted flows of oil and gas, and prices in the markets have begun to rise quickly. When you live in Asia, this is felt especially clearly: here, energy almost always arrives from beyond the horizon.
The Strait of Hormuz remains particularly vulnerable — a narrow maritime corridor between Iran and the Arabian Peninsula. A significant share of the world’s energy trade passes through it. It is one of those geographical facts that people usually remember only during moments of crisis.
According to estimates by the energy consultancy Kpler, around 13 million barrels of oil per day passed through the strait in 2025. That is roughly one-third of all global seaborne trade in crude oil — the same oil that later becomes gasoline, diesel, and many other products without which the modern economy quickly begins to creak.
The strait is important not only for oil. Around one-fifth of global trade in liquefied natural gas also passes along this route. Gas is cooled into liquid form so it can be transported by tanker, and most of these shipments head toward Asia. According to the U.S. Energy Information Administration, in 2024 more than 80% of LNG that passed through the Strait of Hormuz was destined for this region.
Prices react almost instantly. Since the beginning of the conflict, the price of Brent crude has risen by about 15%, approaching $84 per barrel — the highest level since mid-2024. Markets rarely wait for complete clarity. A hint of risk is usually enough.
U.S. President Donald Trump said that Washington could offer shipping companies risk insurance and, if necessary, deploy naval forces to protect vessels. But even such statements do not change the main point: when supplies become uncertain, prices begin to live a life of their own.
At moments like this, the global market behaves in a fairly predictable way. Wealthier countries can afford to pay more for limited cargoes of fuel. Less affluent economies usually end up at the back of the queue. It is an uncomfortable logic, but it tends to repeat itself during almost every energy crisis.
One analyst from the ASEAN energy center noted that closing the Strait of Hormuz could not only raise oil and gas prices but also slow global economic activity. There is a certain historical irony here: the modern economy seems incredibly complex, yet sometimes it still depends on a narrow strip of water only a few dozen kilometers wide.
For the largest Asian economies, the risks are especially visible simply because of their scale. China is the world’s largest oil importer, and India ranks third. Any serious price increase quickly moves through transportation, industry, and household expenses.
China, for example, remains the largest buyer of Iranian oil. Last year it imported around 1.4 million barrels per day, which accounts for roughly 13% of its seaborne crude oil imports. At the same time, Beijing traditionally tries to diversify supply sources — not so much out of ideology as out of caution.
Some of these alternatives lie to the north. Chinese independent refineries have for several years actively purchased oil from Russia, and sometimes from Venezuela. These supplies are often sold at discounts because of sanctions risks. Sometimes geopolitics simply turns into a complicated system of discounts.
India may follow a similar path. It is possible that it will again increase purchases of Russian oil, even despite political pressure from Washington. In the global energy market, pragmatism usually proves stronger than diplomatic wording.
But for India, it is not only the availability of supplies that matters — it is the price. Rising fuel costs often quickly translate into higher prices for food and transportation. A weakening rupee and more expensive borrowing could further slow the economy.
If you look at a map of the region, East Asia appears especially dependent on Middle Eastern energy. This is not new, but crises always make such dependencies more visible.
Japan, for example, imported about 2.34 million barrels of oil per day in January, and roughly 95% of those supplies came from the Middle East. The country also remains one of the world’s largest importers of LNG.
South Korea is almost entirely dependent on imported energy. About 70% of its oil and roughly 20% of its liquefied gas come from Middle Eastern countries. In ordinary years this is just a statistic. During periods of crisis it begins to sound different.
Taiwan is in a similar position. The island imports virtually all the LNG it needs. In recent years authorities have tried to diversify supplies, but roughly one-third of its gas still comes from Qatar, where production was halted after attacks on energy infrastructure.
Japan and South Korea have significant strategic reserves. Taiwan also says its stocks are sufficient at least through March. Reserves, however, are always a temporary solution. They are more like a pause than a full-fledged strategy.
This is particularly sensitive for energy-intensive industries. For example, Taiwan’s semiconductor industry has become one of the nerve centers of the global economy. Even small disruptions in energy supply there can have consequences far beyond the island.
One analyst from the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis described the situation quite simply: governments are now acting according to the principle of “hope for the best, prepare for the worst.” Some of them may later remember that the development of renewable energy sometimes works as a kind of insurance policy.
For now, however, fossil fuels still dominate the energy balance of many East Asian countries. According to the International Energy Agency, renewable sources provide less than 10% of electricity in South Korea and Taiwan, and about 22% in Japan.
Southeast Asia faces a different problem. Economies here are growing quickly and require ever more energy, but financial resources are far more limited. When the market turns into a competition for limited supplies, wealthy countries almost always win.
In Singapore, authorities have already warned businesses and households about likely increases in electricity bills. The warning sounds fairly calm, but such notices rarely appear without a reason.
In Manila, the government has gone further and banned non-essential trips using state vehicles. This is an old measure familiar from the oil crises of the last century. Sometimes history simply repeats its practical solutions.
In Thailand, officials have urged citizens to conserve energy. Lines have begun to appear at gas stations — not catastrophic ones, but long enough to remind people how quickly market sentiment can change.
The government has also temporarily suspended exports of petroleum products in order to preserve domestic reserves. According to official data, stocks may last for about 61 days. During this time, the country is trying to increase gas production in the Gulf of Thailand and in Myanmar.
Thailand, analysts note, is particularly dependent on purchasing LNG on the spot market. This makes the country very sensitive to price fluctuations and geopolitical risks. In periods of stability such a model seems convenient. In periods of crisis it looks far less comfortable.
Sometimes, watching this from Asia, you catch yourself thinking that the global energy system resembles a huge and rather nervous organism. It can adapt, find alternative routes and new sources. But from time to time it still has to remind itself how narrow some of those routes can be.
