Sunlight over tankers | Why India must accelerate renewables

The Strait of Hormuz has always carried more than oil. Narrow and heavily trafficked, it has long been described as an artery or a lifeline of the global energy system. Today, it looks more like a bottleneck. Roughly a fifth of the world’s traded oil passes through this stretch of water, a statistic long treated as an abstraction rather than a warning.

As tensions rise across West Asia, that abstraction has vanished. Shipping is being rerouted, insurance costs are surging, and refineries from Jamnagar to Rotterdam are already feeling the strain. This is not just another price shock. It is a reminder of how exposed a fossil-fuelled world really is.

The black gold that fuelled empires is turning into fool's pyrite, its vulnerabilities exposed like never before. Even as global oil markets respond with their familiar reflex, price spikes, volatility, and unease, what we are witnessing is not simply another geopolitical episode, this is a real-time stress test of a fossil-fuelled world.

India is among the most exposed to the disruption. Without Russian crude, its dependence on West Asian oil exceeds 80 per cent, and even with current supplies remains around 50 per cent. Policymakers may speak in the language of diversification and buffers, but the arithmetic remains stubborn. When that narrow strait tightens, so does the Indian economy. The impact travels quickly, from ports to pumps, from diesel prices to food inflation. With a large share of India’s LPG imports also routed through these waters, the tightening supplies and disruptions reach kitchens long before they register in macroeconomic data.

Vulnerability rarely arrives as a sudden collapse. More often, it creeps in quietly, raising costs and uncertainty in everyday life. Transport becomes more expensive, fertiliser prices inch upward, and farmers recalibrate decisions they never imagined would be shaped by distant conflict. About 40 per cent of India’s fertiliser imports are linked to this region, a reminder that energy dependence is never just about energy. It is about food, livelihoods, and the fragile balance that sustains both.

There is, of course, a familiar script that follows such disruptions. Governments scramble to secure alternative supplies. Cargoes are rerouted, Russian barrels replacing Gulf ones, spot purchases filling gaps left by delayed shipments. Markets adjust, temporarily. The system lurches forward, patched but unchanged. Yet each crisis leaves behind a residue of doubt. How many more such shocks can be absorbed before the system itself begins to look untenable?

The answer may already be taking shape, quietly, in ways that rarely command headlines. Even as fossil fuel markets convulse, the economics of clean energy continue their steady, almost indifferent advance. Solar power, once dismissed as expensive idealism, is now among the cheapest sources of new electricity in India. Wind and storage technologies are scaling faster than anticipated, their costs falling with each passing year. What was once framed as an environmental imperative is increasingly a matter of economic common sense.

More importantly, it is a question of sovereignty. Sunlight and wind do not arrive in tankers. They are not subject to naval patrols or geopolitical brinkmanship. A decentralised energy system, of rooftop solar panels, distributed storage and local grids, does not falter because a distant waterway is under threat. In a world of recurring disruptions, resilience begins to look less like stockpiling fuel and more like reimagining the system altogether.

India is not without advantage in this transition. Its solar potential is vast, its demand growing, and its policy ambitions, at least on paper, is considerable. Incentive schemes aimed at boosting domestic manufacturing of solar modules and batteries signal an awareness of the opportunity. But awareness is not the same as urgency. The scale of deployment must accelerate, not incrementally but decisively. Every gigawatt of renewable capacity added is not just a climate gain, it is a hedge against the next crisis waiting to unfold.

Equally critical is the quieter work of reducing demand. Energy efficiency rarely captures imagination, yet it remains one of the most effective tools available. From industrial processes to urban buildings, the potential savings are significant. Past successes, such as the transformation of India’s lighting market, a feat by India’s Bureau of Energy Efficiency, that is not celebrated enough, offers a template for what can be achieved when policy, technology, and scale align. Extending that logic to cooling, appliances, and infrastructure could ease pressure on the system in ways new supply alone cannot.

Mobility, too, sits at the heart of this transition. Electrification of transport is often framed as a climate commitment, but its strategic value is just as compelling. Each electric bus or two-wheeler reduces dependence on imported oil, insulating the economy from external shocks. Scaled across India’s vast transport network, the implications are profound.

Already the International Energy Agency (IEA) has called for conservation measures like fly less, drive slow, and work from home.

The Strait of Hormuz has faithfully served the fossil fuel age, carrying the weight of an energy system built on extraction and long-distance transport. But it has also laid bare the system’s limits. Each crisis exposes the same fault lines.

For India, the choice is becoming harder to postpone. Continue navigating an energy system permanently vulnerable to distant events or invest seriously in one that brings control closer home. The transition to clean energy is no longer just about climate or ethics. It is practical, economic, and at times like these, urgent.

(Shailendra Yashwant is a researcher covering forests, wildlife, and the environmental politics, shaping conservation and land use in South Asia. X: @shaibaba)

(Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.)