Return to the Food Lands

Amid the glitter of modern European cities, among high-speed railways, high-tech automotive plants, giant financial centres, and the digital economy that for decades was considered a symbol of civilisational progress, a great unease has slowly emerged: what if all of it is actually very fragile?

That question once sounded absurd. How could Europe—home of the Industrial Revolution, centre of technology, heart of modern capitalism, and one of the world’s largest economic powers—be shaken merely by a geopolitical conflict thousands of kilometres away?

Yet the reality of recent years has shown something different. The global pandemic, the Russia-Ukraine war, soaring energy prices, supply chain disruptions, food inflation, and the latest conflict between the United States and Iran have all demonstrated that the modern economy is far more vulnerable than previously imagined.

Here the world has begun to hear an old and frightening term again: stagflation. A condition in which the economy slows, unemployment rises, but prices keep climbing. A combination regarded as a ‘nightmare’ for central banks and modern governments.

The term stagflation was popularised by British politician Iain Macleod in 1965. But it truly shook the world during the 1970s oil crisis, when the Middle East energy embargo caused Western economies to experience stagnation alongside high inflation. And now, decades later, similar symptoms are beginning to haunt Europe once more.

This time the source is not merely a monetary matter, but a more complex combination: energy, geopolitics, industrial dependence, and the fragility of globalisation. When war breaks out in the Middle East and energy prices soar, Europe becomes one of the regions most vulnerable to the impact. For unlike the United States, which possesses large energy reserves and the dollar as a global currency, the European Union is highly dependent on energy imports.

Europe’s major industries—especially automotive, chemicals, steel, fertiliser, logistics, and heavy manufacturing—were built on the assumption that energy would always be available at relatively low cost. But history, it turns out, does not always bow to economic assumptions. When gas and oil prices surge, production costs rise. When production costs rise, industry begins to weaken. When industry weakens, jobs come under threat. Yet ironically, as the economy slows, the cost of living keeps rising due to energy and logistics inflation. This is the essence of stagflation: the economy is sick, but prices remain hot.

In recent times, these concerns have even begun to be acknowledged openly by European Union officials themselves. The EU Commissioner for Social Rights and Skills, Roxana Mînzatu, has warned that around 1.3 million jobs in Europe could be affected by the surge in energy prices triggered by the escalation of war in the Middle East.

The most worrying sector is automotive. Around 600,000 jobs are estimated to be at risk in this sector alone. That figure is not merely a statistic. Behind it lie workers’ families, the middle class, households, industrial towns, and a very long economic chain.

For Europe’s automotive industry is not just about cars. It is the heart of Europe’s modern manufacturing economy. If the automotive sector weakens, then steel is affected, the glass industry is hit, petrochemicals decline, logistics slow, small and medium component suppliers are battered, and public consumption falls.

The domino effect is vast. And here the paradox of the modern economy begins to show. For decades the world was taught that the services sector, finance, high technology, and heavy industry are symbols of progress. Meanwhile the agricultural sector was often seen as ‘traditional’, ‘less modern’, even inferior.

But when the energy crisis arrived, humanity was reminded of a simple fact: people can postpone buying a car, but they cannot postpone eating. Here an interesting psychological and strategic shift has emerged in Europe. Slowly but surely, the food issue has begun to be repositioned as a matter of civilisational security.

The European Union has started talking about food security, fertiliser security, local agriculture, strategic food reserves, and resilience farming. Many European countries have begun to realise that over-reliance on global supply chains is a dangerous gamble.

Because in conditions of war or energy crisis, the quickest to be shaken are precisely complex industrial systems that depend heavily on fuel, gas, electricity, and global logistics.

Meanwhile agricultural land continues to produce food as long as the soil remains fertile, water remains available, and people are still willing to plant. Ironically, the sector once considered ‘less prestigious’ is now once again seen as the foundation of survival. Perhaps this is one of the greatest lessons of the modern stagflation era: that the economy can never truly be separated from the land.

Over the past few decades, many developed countries placed too much faith in a growth model based on consumption, debt, financialisation, and endless industrial expansion. But that model depends on one condition: cheap energy. When cheap energy disappears, the entire structure begins to wobble. Factories become expensive. Transport costs swell. Fertiliser prices rise. Electricity bills soar. Purchasing power falls. Industry loses competitiveness.

And ultimately, governments face an almost impossible dilemma: if interest rates are raised to fight inflation, the economy weakens further. If stimulus is expanded to save the economy, inflation rises higher. This is why stagflation is called the ‘principal weakness of the modern economy’.

It shows that the contemporary economic system is actually highly sensitive to energy and geopolitical disruptions. Even more interestingly, this crisis has also reopened discussion about the global monetary system. For decades world oil trade has been dominated by the petrodollar. Countries had to hold dollars to buy energy.

But now an alternative is slowly emerging: the petroyuan. China has begun expanding the use of the yuan in energy trade with Russia, Iran, and several other countries. Although it has not yet fully replaced dollar dominance, this shift shows that the world is beginning to move towards monetary multipolarity.

But on the other hand, both the petrodollar and the petroyuan still share one common feature: both are based on fiat money. This means the value of money depends heavily on the authority of the issuing state, not on any particular intrinsic asset. Here some economic thinkers have begun to question again: is it fair for real resources such as oil to be exchanged for fiat money that can be expanded through monetary policy?

That question has led some people to look again at systems based on real assets such as gold and silver. Not merely out of historical romanticism, but because of a growing awareness that an economy too far removed from the reality of production and natural resources tends to create inequality and excessive speculation.

Yet regardless of the monetary debate, one thing appears increasingly clear: the global crisis has returned human attention to the primary sector. Land has become important again. Water has become strategic again. Food has become a priority again. And perhaps this is the greatest irony of modern civilisation. After hundreds of years of humans racing to leave villages for industrial cities, part of the world is now beginning to realise that true resilience depends heavily on food lands, farmers, fertiliser, water, and stable energy.

In normal conditions, industry does generate great prosperity. But in conditions of prolonged crisis, it is the food sector that sustains human survival. It is therefore very possible that Europe in the future will not entirely abandon industry, but will seek a new balance between manufacturing and food security.

Agriculture will likely no longer be seen merely as a traditional sector, but as part of national security strategy. And perhaps the world is indeed moving towards a new awareness: that a civilisation too far removed from the land will become a fragile civilisation.

From a deeper perspective, stagflation is not merely an economic matter. It is a warning. A warning that humanity cannot build civilisation solely on financial figures, stock markets, debt, and limitless industrialisation. For in the end, humans remain biological creatures who live from land, water, energy, and food.

And when all global crises converge at a single point, humanity finally comes to understand something actually very old: that food lands sometimes determine the future of civilisation more than towering financial buildings. Perhaps that is why, amid the threat of stagflation and de-industrialisation, Europe is slowly beginning to turn back to food lands.

In this context, Indonesia’s renewed emphasis on food self-sufficiency can actually be read not merely as an ordinary economic policy, but as a long-term civilisational strategy for facing an increasingly unstable world. While many developed countries are beginning to realise the fragility of global supply chains due to war, energy crises, and stagflation, Indonesia actually has a great opportunity because it is blessed with fertile soil, a tropical climate, abundant water, and a strong agrarian tradition. Amid the threat of de-industrialisation and global geopolitical turmoil, the ability to produce one’s own food becomes a highly strategic form of sovereignty.

For in the end, a nation that can maintain its own land, water, farmers, seeds, and fertiliser will be far better prepared to survive than a nation that depends entirely on imports and global market mechanisms easily shaken by international conflict.