Dennis Voznesenski's War and Wheat examines the complex relationship between grain markets and global conflict. Amid an increasingly precarious global security situation, the book – written by one of Australia's most respected agricultural economists – offers insights into how vulnerabilities in food supply chains might be exacerbated and how resilience against shocks to the food system can be bolstered. Starting with World War I, Voznesenski traces a historical account of some of the major episodes in the relationship between conflict and grain markets, with a focus on Australia.

While much of the thoroughly researched book explores the grains industry and agriculture more generally, it offers lessons for industries across the board. As Voznesenski writes in the introduction, ‘wars ... provide a unique window into the vulnerabilities of an industry, and consequently the country that operates it.’

Published in 2024, and with much of the third and final chapter dedicated to examining the effects of Russia's war in Ukraine on global wheat and fertiliser markets, the book remains a useful resource as we face the war in Iran and the closure of the Strait of Hormuz.

Voznesenski provides a timely reminder that obstructions to maritime chokepoints are a constant threat to both global peace and food security. From the Ottoman blockage of the Dardanelles during WWI to today's maritime freeze around the Strait of Hormuz, agricultural supply chains’ vulnerability to war is as important in 2026 as it was in 1915.

For Australia, Voznesenski reminds us that the Ottoman obstruction of Russia’s grain trade in WWI was the trigger for the Gallipoli landings and the birth of the ANZAC legend. Many of Australia's past and current military engagements have been in the sea domain, often involving freeing up or derisking shipping routes. War and Wheat outlines how continued obstructions to shipping can harm stability, threaten peace and exacerbate food insecurity, all of which create a more perilous global environment and increase the likelihood of Australian military engagement. The author draws our attention to Australia's complete reliance on maritime and, to a lesser extent, airborne supply chains.

But more than just examining supply chains, Voznesenski provides a broad analysis of the war–wheat relationship. One pertinent theme seems to persist throughout this exploration: the role of government. Because governments are (or should be) chiefly concerned with the well-being and security of their citizens, food security in wartime has attracted considerable government intervention, including in the form of export bans; production mandates; diverting conscripts from military service to rural work; providing food relief to post-conflict and displaced populations; and coordinating food movements between allies. While the form of such interventions has evolved since WWI, their role in shoring up grain supplies or causing unintended harm remains constant. This is especially true in the economic environment that has followed Covid-19, as increased government intervention has sought to strengthen self-sufficiency in an increasingly precarious world.

Voznesenski points out, the ‘similarities in the situation experienced in Australia following the first harvest during WWI, and in 2022 were uncanny’. Here, the role of droughts and international freight played a role during both periods. War and Wheat also highlights the potential of biofuels and argues for the expansion of Australia's biofuels sector to make the grains industry more resilient to conflict. This, too, is timely. As the price of imported liquid fuels increases due to the closure of the Strait of Hormuz, Australia's domestic fuel production has received renewed attention.

Today, governments in Australia and around the world need to decide how to ensure food prices remain within reach of the population without designing interventions that cause unintended harm. At a time when the fragility of food supply chains is laid bare, achieving food security while ensuring an economically viable grains industry is no easy task. It is made even more difficult when conflict worsens or intersecting crises occur, such as disasters or disease outbreaks.

Getting this balance wrong could be disastrous for stability and security. In some places, it could mean rising dissatisfaction and dramatic political shifts at the ballot box. In other, institutionally weaker places, it could mean that hunger-conflict spirals or inflationary crises take hold, with potentially tragic consequences.

Voznesenski notes an important warning for Australia – one that we are now seeing play out in real time: ‘For the Australian grains industry, the key takeaway of this book is simple. The vulnerabilities the industry had leading into both world wars are the exact same ones that exist now. The industry is woefully unprepared for future conflict.’

As well as being well-researched and well-written, War and Wheat offers an important, relevant, Australia-focused and concise insight into the relationship between grain production and conflict. The author acknowledges the complex interactions that prevail around both conflict and agricultural markets, eschewing simple explanations around food systems and war. The book also does well to provide context that assists readers unfamiliar with agricultural economics, making it accessible to non-specialists. The book is a critical read at a critical time in the history of both war and wheat.