Hormuz and Europe’s hidden hierarchy: when crisis reveals what truly matters

The crisis in the Strait of Hormuz is not merely disrupting one of the world’s main energy corridors. It is producing a far more significant effect: it is forcing Europe to reveal, in practice, the real hierarchy of its priorities when security, economic growth, and the ecological transition come into direct conflict. For years, these three dimensions have been presented as compatible, almost complementary. Hormuz shows that this is not always the case.

The blockage of a strait through which roughly one-fifth of global oil flows has brought energy security back to the centre of political discourse, but in a different form than in the past. It is no longer just a matter of diversifying suppliers or routes, but of managing a systemic risk that escapes European control. The G7 statement of March 30, with its commitment to adopt “any necessary measures,” signals precisely this shift in paradigm: energy security is once again becoming an emergency issue, tied more to geopolitical and military dynamics than to ordinary policy tools.

In this context, the European response appears solid at first glance, but upon closer inspection, deeply ambivalent. On the one hand, the Union possesses resilience tools built in recent years: oil reserves equivalent to at least 90 days of consumption, gas storage obligations, and coordination mechanisms among Member States. On the other hand, these measures reveal their essentially temporary nature. They buy time, but not autonomy. As also suggested by Commissioner Dan Jørgensen, the real short-term lever lies in reducing demand, especially in transport—an indication that the problem cannot be solved on the supply side alone.

However, it is at the national level that the most interesting dynamic emerges. Government choices clearly show that, under pressure, the energy transition becomes a dependent variable. The postponement of coal plant closures in Italy, German hesitations over phase-out plans, and emergency measures adopted in several countries point to an implicit priority: avoiding immediate economic shocks, even at the cost of compromising long-term climate goals. This is not a failure of the Green Deal, but rather proof that it is not yet politically irreversible.

This dynamic unfolds within an already fragile economic context. Even before the crisis, Europe was facing high energy costs, declining industrial competitiveness, and growing pressure on energy-intensive sectors. The disruption of supplies through Hormuz amplifies these tensions, fueling the risk of a new inflationary spiral and increasing production costs. Even if hostilities were to cease quickly, the time required to restore Gulf energy infrastructure suggests that the effects of the crisis will be persistent rather than temporary.

At the same time, the diplomatic dimension highlights another structural limitation of Europe. Coordination among more than 40 countries, references to international law, and the emphasis on freedom of navigation all indicate significant convergence at the normative level. The High Representative Kaja Kallas described the strait as a “global public good,” underlining the unacceptability of any restriction on passage. However, this unity fades when it comes to coercive tools. Divisions over sanctions, the use of force, and crisis management show that Europe remains an influential diplomatic actor, but one lacking real autonomous strategic projection.

Statements by Emmanuel Macron, who described a military operation to reopen the strait as “unrealistic,” make this limitation explicit. The Union can help build international consensus but struggles to translate it into concrete action when vital interests are at stake. The result is a persistent dependence on external actors, precisely at a time when energy security would require greater autonomy.

And yet, the crisis also contains an element of transformation. While in the short term it pushes toward regressive solutions—return to coal, openness to biofuels, greater state intervention—in the medium term it indirectly reinforces the logic of the transition. Countries that have invested more heavily in renewables are now less exposed to the volatility of gas and oil markets. Spain’s experience, as well as record wind energy production in the United Kingdom and the savings generated by solar power, suggest that future energy security may increasingly depend on the ability to produce energy domestically.

This creates only an apparent paradox. The Hormuz crisis does not simply slow down Europe’s energy transition: it makes it more complex and less linear. It introduces a structural tension between the short and the long term, between immediate security and future sustainability. In other words, it transforms the transition from a relatively predictable normative path into a deeply political process, exposed to external shocks.

In this sense, Hormuz represents a turning point. Not so much because of its immediate effects, but because it forces Europe to confront a reality: in an unstable geopolitical context, energy policies cannot be separated from power dynamics. Resilience thus becomes the central criterion, even more than efficiency or sustainability.

The real question concerns what comes next. If the crisis subsides, will the Union quickly return to the trajectory of the Green Deal, or will emergency choices—ranging from coal to subsidies—leave a more lasting imprint? In other words, will Hormuz be an episode or a precedent?

The answer to this question will define not only the future of European energy policy, but also its credibility as a global actor capable of reconciling climate ambition with strategic security.

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