Captain Osama Shakman

In times of uncertainty, markets often reveal more about human psychology than about material reality. The global oil market today is a striking example. While headlines warn of shortages and escalating crises, a closer look suggests that what we are witnessing is not merely an energy crisis—but a crisis of perception.

I am not an economist, nor a specialist in energy markets. Yet my experience as a retired pilot has shaped how I think about fuel—not as an abstract commodity, but as a matter of precision, discipline, and survival. In aviation, fuel is calculated, not feared.

Decisions are grounded in data, not rumors. This distinction offers a useful lens through which to examine today’s energy discourse.

The prevailing narrative suggests a world on the brink of an oil shortage. However, this narrative oversimplifies a far more complex reality. As Friedrich Nietzsche once observed, fear has the power to construct its own version of truth. In the context of energy markets, this insight feels particularly relevant. Price surges do not always reflect actual scarcity; often, they reflect amplified expectations of disruption.

Nowhere is this dynamic more evident than in the Strait of Hormuz—a narrow but vital artery through which roughly one-fifth of global oil and liquefied gas flows. In recent geopolitical tensions, the mere possibility of its closure has proven sufficient to trigger sharp market reactions. Prices have surged dramatically, even in the absence of confirmed, sustained supply losses. The strait, in effect, has become not just a physical chokepoint, but a psychological one.

Recent estimates indicate that oil prices have risen by more than 50–60% since the onset of conflict, with projections in extreme scenarios reaching up to $190 per barrel. Yet, paradoxically, these same prices can retreat within hours on the basis of speculation about de-escalation. This volatility underscores a critical point: markets are driven not only by supply and demand, but by narratives and expectations.

It is important to emphasize that global oil production remains substantial. The issue is less about absolute scarcity and more about the reliability and continuity of supply chains. Even a significant disruption—such as the temporary loss of 13–14 million barrels per day—would represent a serious shock, but not a complete collapse of global energy availability. Still, markets often respond as if the worst-case scenario were inevitable.

This raises a fundamental question: do prices reflect reality, or do they reflect collective anticipation?

Nietzsche’s insight offers a compelling answer. Human beings do not always perceive reality as it is; rather, they interpret it through the lens of fear and desire. In oil markets, this psychological filter transforms possibilities into perceived certainties. The mere suggestion of shortage can exert real upward pressure on prices, regardless of whether the shortage materializes.

Within this framework, oil companies occupy a complex position. They are not simply passive observers of market volatility; they operate within—and benefit from—a system that amplifies it. Rising uncertainty often translates into rising profits, as pricing mechanisms respond rapidly to news cycles and geopolitical signals. This introduces an ethical tension: a market that is structurally responsive to fear inevitably rewards it.

At the same time, the tangible effects of conflict must not be dismissed. Infrastructure damage, logistical disruptions, and recovery delays all contribute to genuine supply constraints. Some degree of price increase is therefore justified. However, the gap between justified concern and exaggerated reaction remains significant—and it is within this gap that speculation and political maneuvering thrive.

The broader lesson extends beyond economics. The global challenge is not solely one of resource availability, but of resource perception and management. Oil, in itself, is neither inherently problematic nor inherently beneficial. Its impact depends on how it is governed, interpreted, and utilized. When it becomes a tool of pressure, it burdens the system; when managed with clarity and foresight, it supports stability and growth.

Ultimately, the current situation should be understood not as a crisis of quantity, but as a crisis of awareness. Between reality and illusion, the modern observer watches markets fluctuate with increasing uncertainty—often unaware that the forces at play are as psychological as they are material.

In many ways, the oil market today is not governed solely by barrels and pipelines, but by perceptions and fears. And until this distinction is better understood, volatility will remain not just a feature of the system—but a defining characteristic of it.