When most of us think of global instability we picture wars, elections, or the next viral outbreak. Yet the world’s next quiet crisis is already unfolding; not in a battlefield or a laboratory, but in a field of wheat. That humble grain, which anchors everything from the patty crusts of Half-Way-Tree to the breakfast toast in Negril, is becoming the fault line of a global shift.

Behind the calm of commodity reports, a silent realignment in production, trade, and pricing is underway; one poised to ripple through every Caribbean kitchen in the year ahead. But this isn’t a story of shortage, it’s a story of imbalance. The world may be harvesting more wheat than ever, yet its foundation is shifting.

Global wheat production for 2025/26 is forecast at about 808.6 million metric tons (United States Department of Agriculture [USDA] 2025/26 Outlook). The global stocks-to-use ratio, the thin line between abundance and scarcity, has slipped to approximately 31 per cent, meaning there is less of a safety net if a single harvest falters, a trade route closes, or a conflict escalates (Food and Agriculture Organization [FAO] World Food Situation).

Across continents, the weather has rewritten the map of grain reliability: Drought grips parts of Southern Europe, heat waves have scorched yields in North America, torrential rains have drowned fields across China. Even as totals rise, quality is declining and consistency is vanishing. What looks like plenty from afar is, up close, a patchwork of risk. The supposed security of record harvests is giving way to a new uncertainty, one where the world has wheat, but not enough resilience to move or store it safely.

Nowhere is that fragility clearer than in Ukraine. Before Russia’s invasion, Ukraine was one of the world’s great breadbaskets, supplying a substantial share of global wheat exports. In 2025, that supply artery is under severe strain: Wheat production is expected at around 22 million tons, with exports projected near 15 million tons, sharply below pre-war highs (USDA Production Report). Fields in front-line regions remain mined, ports have been damaged, and shipping routes through the Black Sea remain uncertain.

Even when crops are harvested, moving them is perilous. Rail corridors are strained, insurance costs for Black Sea freight have soared, and the temporary grain corridors negotiated under international pressure remain fragile political compromises, rather than lasting solutions.

Ukraine’s struggle is the world’s warning. In an interconnected food system, logistics and politics can erase abundance overnight. For every ton of wheat that fails to leave Odessa, another importer somewhere must scramble for a replacement, often at a higher price.

While Ukraine fights to move grain, Russia has quietly seized the role of dominant exporter. Today it controls roughly 20 per cent of global wheat trade, shaping price and policy alike. The European Union follows, while the United States, once the powerhouse of global wheat, has seen its export share decline steadily over the past two decades. Meanwhile, China and India, the two largest wheat-consuming nations, are turning inward. China’s domestic harvests have grown, cutting its import needs, while India has declared that it will meet domestic demand without new imports as its stocks rebound. Together, these shifts are redrawing trade routes and pushing smaller buyers like us closer to the margins.

For countries such as Jamaica that rely on imported wheat this reshuffling poses a direct risk: When large nations secure supply first, smaller economies face higher prices, longer wait times, or even temporary shortages.

At first glance, global wheat prices appear stable, down about 10 per cent year-on-year after the post-pandemic spikes of 2022 and 2023 (Trading Economics, October 2025). But this calm may be deceptive. Beneath it lies a volatile mix of influences — climate shocks, export taxes, insurance premiums, and geopolitical tension.

Futures markets already show signs of nervousness. Analysts warn that even small disruptions — a failed harvest, a blocked port, or a sudden export ban — could trigger another surge. And, for Caribbean importers, “stable” world prices rarely translate into cheaper flour. Freight costs, currency swings, and supply bottlenecks often swallow any relief. The region pays not just for grain, but for distance, insurance, and vulnerability.

For Jamaica and our neighbours, wheat isn’t just another commodity. It’s the invisible thread woven through our diets and economies. We import virtually all our wheat and flour, feeding bakeries, schools, restaurants, and hotels. Bread, buns, pastries, noodles — these are daily essentials. When a supply chain trembles, we feel it first.

I warned about this during the 2022 grain crisis when disruptions in Ukraine and the Black Sea sent Caribbean flour prices up by as much as 25 per cent to 30 per cent (local data: Jamaica Observer, January 2023). Bakeries struggled, households tightened budgets, and it’s happening again.

Even if we don’t buy directly from Ukraine or Russia, their troubles push up the prices of wheat from Canada, the United States, or Argentina, because everyone is competing for the same smaller pool of stable suppliers. And it’s not just about price; it’s about access. When major buyers in Africa or Asia move aggressively to secure contracts, smaller markets like ours are often left waiting. Food security here depends not just on global production, but on our ability to get what’s available, and get it in time.

This is the paradox of 2025: The world is producing record amounts of wheat, but security is shrinking. Abundance doesn’t guarantee access, and output doesn’t ensure affordability. Climate change is tightening its grip. Each heat wave, each drought, each flash flood erodes the predictability of agriculture. The FAO recently estimated that extreme weather destroyed over seven million tons of wheat in the United Kingdom alone since 2020 (World-Grain, FAO data). Multiply that fragility across continents and the illusion of stability evaporates. The global wheat market has become a mirror of our times, abundant yet unequal, efficient yet brittle. It rewards those with resources and reserves and punishes those who depend on the promise of open trade and stable logistics. For small island states, that’s a dangerous bet.

It’s time to shift from reaction to resilience. Waiting for the next price spike before acting is no longer an option. We must build relationships with a broader range of exporters, from Argentina and Brazil to smaller producers in Eastern Europe, and invest in regional buffer stocks that can provide short-term protection against import disruptions or sudden price surges.

Our governments should support local innovation, encouraging flour millers and bakers to experiment with blended flours using cassava, breadfruit, or plantain, not to replace wheat, but to reduce its monopoly over our food chain. We also need to modernise logistics, upgrading storage and port facilities to handle bulk grain more efficiently and reduce dependency on single suppliers or routes. Above all, we must recognise that food security is national security, not only dependent on local production but on foresight and planning. Just as we plan for hurricanes or cyberattacks, we must prepare for food shocks in global trade with the same urgency and discipline.

Behind every ton of wheat lies a human story: A farmer in Kansas battling drought, a ship captain in the Black Sea navigating mined waters, a Jamaican baker watching flour prices climb while trying not to raise the cost of bread and bulla beyond what customers can afford. Wheat connects these worlds. It’s not just a commodity; it’s a measure of how fragile our global interdependence has become. When the cost of flour rises it’s not an economic footnote. It’s a reminder that our prosperity still depends on forces far beyond our control.

We in the Caribbean cannot sleep through this quiet storm. Global abundance does not guarantee our stability, and distance does not shield us from disruption. If anything, it makes us more exposed. The world’s wheat system is whispering a warning; vigilance, not complacency, must guide our future.

In early 2021 I presented a motion in Parliament urging us to commence a process of strategic global repositioning based on a “foresighting” of global opportunities and a careful analysis of the goods and services in which we have, or can develop, a competitive advantage. I urged that Jamaica pursue this not as a one-time action, but as a process of continuous innovation that fosters agility in recalibrating and improving production to secure and sustain a competitive advantage, given rapidly changing global and technological developments. Despite raising it every year, I left Parliament without the House even considering it.

Now more than ever, policymakers, importers, and consumers must think beyond the next shipment and toward long-term resilience. If we wait until the next crisis we’ll once again scramble for freight space, emergency funds, and public sympathy. But if we act now, with strategy, creativity, and cooperation, the Caribbean can weather the next shock not as a victim, but as a region that foresaw the storm and fortified its food security against it.

The wheat fields of the world are far from our shores, but their tremors reach our tables. In a warming, war-torn world, it’s time the Caribbean treated food security with the same gravity as national defence. And that begins with expanding how we define it.

Food security is not just about growing what we eat, it’s about foresighting — anticipating global risks, understanding supply vulnerabilities, and planning ahead to secure access before disruption strikes. In a connected world, the nations that forecast are the nations that eat. Bread may seem ordinary, until it becomes a luxury.

Lisa Hanna is a former Member of Parliament, People’s National Party spokesperson on foreign affairs and foreign trade,and Cabinet member.