Mykola had farmed the rich black earth, the famous chernozem of the Odesa region, for forty years, just as his father and grandfather had before him. The soil was a part of him. He felt its rhythms in his bones, the quiet promise of the winter wheat, the satisfying weight of a full harvest of corn. When the full-scale invasion began, that world was shattered by a new, unfamiliar sound: the menacing roar of Russian warships lurking over the horizon, their presence a steel wall that had sealed off the ports and strangled his country's economic windpipe. His silos, which in any normal year would be nearly empty by summer, were now bursting with the previous year's harvest, a golden mountain of wheat and corn that had nowhere to go. It was a fortune that was rotting, a treasure turning to dust.
Then, in the summer of 2022, a miracle. The talk was of a deal, a "grain initiative" brokered by the UN and the Turks. The ships would sail again. Mykola felt a surge of hope he hadn't allowed himself to feel in months. A few weeks later, he was in the cab of his grain truck, part of a long, triumphant convoy rumbling toward the port of Odesa. It felt like a return to sanity. As he unloaded his wheat at the terminal, he watched the first cargo ship, the Razoni, being filled. He watched as it sounded its horn, a deep, mournful, and beautiful sound, as it slipped its moorings and headed out into the open sea. It felt like his country was breathing again.
But the relief was short-lived. The normality was a mirage. The "Grain Deal" did not end the blockade; it transformed it from a hard wall into a slow, bureaucratic garrote. Every ship now had to be inspected by Russian officials in the Bosphorus, and they turned this process into a deliberate act of economic strangulation. In the cab of a new cargo ship, the captain would curse as his vessel sat at anchor for weeks, part of a traffic jam of hundreds of ships, waiting for a Russian inspector who might or might not show up that day. The deal, which was supposed to facilitate the flow of food, had been weaponized by Moscow, which now used the threat of pulling out of the agreement to extract concessions and to blackmail the world.
In July 2023, the blackmail ended, and the open violence returned. Russia formally withdrew from the deal. For Mykola, the news was a gut punch. That very night, his world caught fire. He was awoken by a series of massive explosions. From his farmhouse, he could see a pillar of fire and smoke rising from the direction of the port. He knew, with a sick certainty, what it was. He jumped in his truck and raced toward the blaze. The air, thick with the smell of roasted grain, was like a desecration. It was his own grain silo, the one where he had unloaded his hope a year before. A Russian Kalibr cruise missile had slammed into it, and it was now a blazing volcano, sending a golden, fiery cascade of burning wheat and corn into the night sky. The passive, bureaucratic strangulation was over. The active, violent war on food itself had begun. He was no longer a farmer, watching his harvest rot. He was a witness to his own country's sustenance being deliberately, methodically, turned to ash.
Russia's multi-phase, systematic strategy of using global food security as a weapon of war is a stark illustration of its willingness to violate the most fundamental norms of international conduct. This was not a side effect of military operations; it was a deliberate and central component of its war strategy, evolving in three distinct phases from a passive blockade to the active, violent destruction of Ukraine's ability to produce and export food. The Kremlin's goal was twofold: first, to cripple a key sector of the Ukrainian economy, and second, to weaponize the resulting global food crisis to blackmail the developing world and extract concessions from the West.
Phase I, The Naval Blockade (February-July 2022): From the first day of the full-scale invasion, the Russian Black Sea Fleet established a complete naval blockade of all Ukrainian ports. This single, simple act had a devastating global impact. It trapped over 20 million tons of grain and other foodstuffs inside Ukraine, effectively removing one of the world's most important breadbaskets from the global market. The effect was immediate and predictable. Global food prices spiked, and the UN's World Food Programme warned of a "hurricane of hunger," particularly in nations across Africa and the Middle East that were heavily dependent on Ukrainian wheat. Russia's initial goal was clear: to generate a global food security crisis and then leverage the world's desperation to force Ukraine into a negotiated surrender on Russian terms.
Phase II, The Weaponization of the "Grain Deal" (July 2022-July 2023): Faced with immense international pressure, Russia agreed to the UN-brokered Black Sea Grain Initiative. However, Moscow never treated the deal as a genuine humanitarian gesture. Instead, it systematically weaponized the agreement's implementation, transforming it from a corridor of relief into an instrument of coercion. It used Russian inspectors in Istanbul to deliberately slow-walk and obstruct the clearance of ships, creating massive traffic jams and driving up insurance costs, effectively reimposing a "soft blockade." More importantly, it used the constant threat of pulling out of the deal as a source of diplomatic leverage, attempting to extract concessions on the sanctions that had been imposed on its own economy. This phase revealed a key aspect of Russia's diplomatic strategy: even its participation in a humanitarian agreement is merely a tactic in a wider conflict.
Phase III, The "Silo War" (July 2023-Present): After finally pulling out of the grain deal, Russia escalated to the most violent and explicit phase of its food war. It launched a new, systematic, and sustained air campaign with a single, clear purpose: to destroy Ukraine's port infrastructure and grain storage facilities in Odesa, Chornomorsk, and on the Danube River. Cruise missiles and drones were used to methodically target and destroy silos, loading terminals, and port-side warehouses. The strategy had now evolved from holding Ukrainian grain hostage to actively destroying it. This "silo war" was a deliberate attempt to cripple the Ukrainian economy for years to come by making it physically impossible for Ukraine to export its agricultural products at scale. Furthermore, by deliberately taking Ukrainian grain off the market, Russia hoped to create a global food crisis for which it could then position itself as the "responsible" solution with its own, now more valuable, grain exports, turning global hunger into a geopolitical and economic opportunity.