Shilan Saqzi

News Center – War today is no longer just a field of fire and dust; it has become a field of prices. Since the outbreak of the confrontation on February 28 last year between Iran and the US‑Israeli alliance, military and diplomatic decisions have been instantly translated into the language of markets. Oil prices jumped, indicators fluctuated, and maritime insurance costs rose, to the point that the gap between "news" and "trading" narrowed so much that the news itself became a tool for speculation.

In this context, the International Monetary Fund stressed that energy, supply chains, and financial markets are the primary channels through which the effects of war are transmitted. The World Bank spoke of a "historic shock" in commodity markets and a sharp rise in the short‑term risk premium for oil. At the same time, the International Energy Agency warned that the war would lead to a decline in demand and entrench chronic volatility in the global energy market. This means that war does not operate outside the logic of the market but entirely from within it.

Here lies the tragedy of the twenty‑first century: war is no longer just a "cost" to be paid; it has become, for some actors, an economic asset in itself. Added value is achieved not only through selling weapons or seizing territory but also through manufacturing volatility, raising insurance premiums, creating artificial scarcity, and opening wide spaces for arbitrage in oil and derivatives markets, transport, and financial derivatives. The World Bank explains in its latest analysis that a 10% oil shock resulting from geopolitical tension could raise natural gas prices by about 7% and fertilizer prices by more than 5%, and these effects typically return later through pressure on food and poverty. In other words, war at the macro level is a machine for redistributing risk, and in late capitalism, risk is the site where profit is made.

In this context, Trump is no longer just a political actor; he has become a "price‑making reference." Over the past weeks, the market has been pushed in different directions by contradictory statements: one day threatening, another day softening, one day escalating, another day talking about dialogue. On April 17, he said a new round of peace talks would likely be held that same weekend; on May 5, he spoke of "significant progress" toward an agreement and temporarily suspended ship escort operations in the Strait of Hormuz; on May 6, he said "very good talks" had taken place with Iran in the previous 24 hours. This series of messages was enough to push oil down and lift stock markets. Although it cannot be asserted that this pattern is a "deliberate plan," it clearly shows that the rhythm of political signals has become one of the primary inputs in market pricing models.

Here a crucial distinction can be made: Trump does not necessarily move the market at every moment out of "direct personal gain," but his pattern of behavior aligns with the logic of manufacturing volatility. The market extracts from him a "calculated unpredictability": investors realize that his statements are capable of moving oil prices, defense industry stocks, the dollar, gold, and the transport sector. In such a situation, the major trader, hedge fund manager, or even insurance company no longer reads only the military situation on the ground but also processes "Trump's language" as financial data. This is precisely where politics turns into a signal, and the signal into money.

This transformation is clear in the oil market. In late April, Brent crude exceeded 126abarrel,thenbegantofallwitheverysignalofaceasefireorlimitedagreement.OnMay6,itwasreportedthatBrenthadfallentoabout100, and WTI to about $94.81, following reports of progress in negotiations and the possible resumption of ship escort operations in the Strait of Hormuz. In the same period, official energy sources said oil prices had risen by about 50% because of the war, and that returning to the previous situation would take months. This is not just normal market volatility; it is the "war premium" – the cost the market adds to each barrel out of fear of disruption.

Why is this volatility so profitable? Because derivatives markets generate profit not only from price direction but also from the time factor. What the World Bank explicitly explains is this time lag: geopolitical shocks first raise the cost of near‑term oil delivery, then gradually increase demand for storage and reserves. That is, whoever takes the right position before the news breaks can profit from the market's fluctuation itself. When reports speak of "about $7 billion in bets on falling oil, diesel, and gasoline prices" before certain political announcements, the matter is not just about news; rather, the war, through an interconnected chain of events, makes access to privileged information and speed of execution an exceptional financial privilege.

From this angle, the new war differs from classical war. In traditional warfare, prices typically reacted after fighting broke out; in the new war, the mere expectation of the outbreak of confrontation, and even the possibility of a return to peace, is written directly into prices. This is why global analytical institutions speak of a "forward‑looking market" – a market that evaluates not only existing supply and demand but also incorporates expectations of infrastructure destruction, closure of the Strait of Hormuz, depletion of inventories, and transport disruption. The International Energy Agency recalls that the Strait of Hormuz, through which an average of 20 million barrels per day passed in 2025, with a share of nearly 25% of global maritime oil trade, represents a vital bottleneck; any disruption there quickly moves prices from the logic of the physical market to the logic of political fear.

Here a second level of profitability appears: the insurance and maritime shipping sector. According to recent reports, war insurance costs for ships have risen sharply, risk cover has been cancelled or repriced, and maritime shipping has become a new profit arena for intermediaries. With the increased risk of passing through the Strait of Hormuz, insurance premiums jump, and these premiums transfer the cost of war directly onto the body of the global economy. Recent data indicate that refined oil, fuel transport, and shipping routes in Asia and Europe are under great pressure; exports of refined products from Asia have declined, and light and heavy fuel prices have risen. In this sense, war is not just destruction; it is the destruction of the value chain and its transformation into a rent‑extraction machine.

But to fully understand this war, we must go beyond the oil economy and look at the "economy of expectations" itself. The IMF explains that energy, supply chains, and financial markets are the three primary channels through which the effects of war are transmitted. The ODI research centre also points out that financial markets are constantly repricing the economic effects of war, and there is a permanent feedback loop between energy disruptions, inflation expectations, and global growth risks. This means that, alongside existing destruction, war also holds the future hostage: interest rates, the cost of capital, the balance of payments, and even countries' monetary policy are all fed by the logic of fear. In such a situation, war is not a "gap" in the market but a "phase" of it.

Here we should use the term "financialization of war" or "war's financial turn." The financialization of war means the transfer of the profit mechanism from the production of goods to the production of volatility, and from volatility to the production of expectations. When oil is priced not only through pipelines and ports but also through futures contracts, call options, volatility indices, and the insurance market, every piece of war news becomes a financial event in itself. Academic research indicates that the oil market increases price sensitivity to short‑term shocks and major events, and price behavior is fragmented across different time horizons. The result is that new war, instead of merely destroying resources, can generate exceptional returns for actors who have informational access and advanced trading infrastructure.

It is precisely in this logic that Trump's statements gain their importance. In the history of this war, he has shaken the market repeatedly with short, contradictory sentences instead of diplomatic silence: once talking about "excellent talks," once about suspending escort operations, once about the possibility of a quick agreement. The market did not treat these sentences as rhetorical decoration but as price‑making data. On May 5 and 6, with the spread of news of the limited agreement and the beginning of phased negotiations, oil fell and global markets breathed a sigh of relief; but this brief peace itself is part of the volatility cycle, not its end. "Peace" in this system is not necessarily the opposite of war; sometimes it is just a change in the mode of profitability.

From a political perspective, Trump represents a pattern of "war‑market politics" – politics in which the boundaries between strategic decision, media message, and financial positioning are erased. This policy does not necessarily imply a "personal conspiracy" at every moment; rather, it means that the form of governance itself has become aligned with the logic of capturing volatility. When the threat of attack or the promise of peace can affect oil prices, stock indices, and insurance premiums on the same day, the politician becomes a market factor. In such a world, war advances not only by bullets but also by sentences.

On the other side of this equation stand ordinary people. There, the cost of volatility turns into a physical and living burden. Rising oil prices translate quickly into imported inflation, expensive transport, increased food prices, and pressure on household budgets. Official reports have warned that such shocks can later affect natural gas prices, fertilizers, food security, and poverty. Therefore, for people, war is not just an explosion in a distant place; it turns everyday life itself into a turbulent price arena.

Now the essential statement can be made without ambiguity: in new wars, war itself has become subject to market logic and the manufacture of volatility. This means that war is no longer just a means of achieving geopolitical goals; it has sometimes become an asset class. An asset that can be bet on, arbitraged through, insured against, used to change ship routes, and moved millions of dollars by a single official announcement. For this reason, in this war, the missile is important, and the sentence is important; the refinery is important, and the tweet is important; the Strait of Hormuz is important, and the news release timing window is important. The market prices war, and war reshapes the market. This closed loop is the most terrifying image of the twenty‑first century.

In a crisis‑driven capitalism, volatility is inseparable from war; volatility is war itself. The more complex the financial structure becomes and the scarcer the information, the more profits from geopolitical shocks flow toward players closest to power, information, and liquidity. In this logic, not only blood is shed; prices are also made. This is what distinguishes the twenty‑first century from classical wars: not just the battlefield, but the speculation arena on death.