The next inflation shock may not begin with oil. It may begin with diesel shortages in Russia, dry fields in Europe and a growing inability to move food and energy through the same infrastructure on which the global economy has relied for decades. Two developments that appear unrelated are beginning to point in the same direction. Ukraine has resumed near-daily attacks against Russian refineries, forcing several regions to reintroduce fuel rationing only weeks after shortages had begun to ease. At the same time, one of the driest European summers in years is threatening the autumn planting season for wheat, barley, rye and rapeseed, raising the possibility that today’s weather disruption becomes next year’s agricultural shortage. One shock is geopolitical. The other is climatic.

Economically, however, they interact. Russia entered August believing that the worst of its domestic fuel crisis might be passing. A temporary decline in Ukrainian attacks had allowed refineries to complete repairs, increase utilisation rates and rebuild supplies. Export restrictions and subsidies for imported fuel had helped stabilise the market. Regional purchase limits were being relaxed, and retail prices had started to fall. That improvement is already being reversed. Kyiv has attacked 10 of Russia’s 34 major refineries since the beginning of August. The strike against Orsk is particularly significant because repairs may require as long as six months. Orenburg has responded by rationing, restricting purchases based on vehicle registration plates, and prohibiting motorists from filling portable containers. Similar restrictions have returned in Lipetsk, while Kostroma and Voronezh are warning of reduced deliveries.

This is no longer merely about depriving Russia of export revenue. Ukraine is attacking the conversion mechanism that turns crude oil into economically useful fuel. Russia remains one of the world’s largest oil producers. It is not running out of crude. Yet motorists can still struggle to find petrol. That apparent contradiction illustrates something important about modern commodity markets. Production capacity alone does not guarantee availability. Crude oil must be refined, transported and distributed before it becomes diesel, petrol or aviation fuel. Destroy enough refining capacity and an energy-exporting country can experience domestic scarcity.

The political consequences may eventually matter as much as the military ones. Fuel shortages are unusually visible. Households see queues. Farmers experience higher operating costs. Transport companies face reduced availability. Prices rise simultaneously across multiple sectors. And unlike a reduction in export earnings, shortages affect ordinary consumers directly. That makes them politically sensitive, particularly as Russia approaches legislative elections. The Kremlin can impose export bans. It can redirect supplies between regions. It can subsidise imports. But those measures redistribute scarcity rather than eliminate it. If refinery outages accumulate faster than facilities can be repaired, domestic fuel policy becomes increasingly defensive.

There is also a wider consequence. Every litre of diesel retained inside Russia is a litre that cannot easily reach international markets. That matters because the refined-product market is already much tighter than the crude market. Middle Eastern refinery disruption has reduced supply. Russian refining capacity is being attacked. Europe has structurally reduced its own refining base. And winter demand is approaching. The result is a market in which crude prices can appear relatively contained while diesel prices behave very differently. That distinction is critical for inflation. Economists instinctively watch Brent. Businesses experience diesel. Road freight uses it. Agriculture uses it. Construction uses it. Industry uses it. Heating systems in several regions still depend upon it.

And that brings us to Europe’s drought. The immediate agricultural damage from this summer is already visible, but the greater concern is what happens next. Autumn planting determines a significant portion of next year’s grain production. European soil moisture is exceptionally low across several important agricultural regions. Bavaria has experienced some of its weakest rainfall since 2015. Castilla y León, Spain’s principal grain-producing region, has received dramatically less rain than normal. Farmers in Britain and France are delaying decisions because fields are simply too dry to establish crops properly. Rapeseed is first in line. Its planting window is narrow. If meaningful rainfall does not arrive soon, farmers cannot simply postpone indefinitely. Late planting produces weaker plants, reduces winter resilience, and increases the likelihood of lower yields. Wheat, barley and rye follow. There is still time. But less than the market may assume. Weather models suggest some improvement in near-term rainfall, yet longer-range forecasts continue to indicate relatively warm and dry conditions across parts of northern and central Europe through much of the autumn. That creates a different type of agricultural risk. This year’s drought damaged crops. Persistent drought could damage planting. The first reduces today’s supply. The second reduces tomorrow’s productive capacity. And this comes at precisely the wrong moment. Russia and Ukraine together are among the world’s most important sources of internationally traded wheat, yet Black Sea agricultural infrastructure is increasingly exposed to attack. Novorossiysk has already suffered substantial damage to grain-loading facilities. Ukrainian exports have fallen sharply. Commercial navigation in the region has become less reliable. A disruption in Russian exports is manageable if European harvests are excellent. A weak European harvest is manageable if Black Sea flows are reliable. Higher diesel costs are manageable if agricultural yields are strong. But when each source of resilience weakens at the same time, the margin for error disappears.

The situation is particularly important for fertilisers. The disruption around the Strait of Hormuz continues to affect global energy logistics, and natural gas remains an essential feedstock for nitrogen fertiliser production. Higher energy prices therefore influence agriculture before a crop is even planted. Farmers face a potentially uncomfortable combination. Higher fuel costs. Higher fertiliser costs. Dryer soil. Higher financing costs. And greater uncertainty about yields. Some will respond by reducing planted acreage. Others will reduce inputs. Both responses can lower future production. Europe’s grain area has already been declining gradually for a quarter of a century. That trend attracted limited attention when global agricultural trade functioned smoothly, and Black Sea supply remained abundant.

Russia’s refinery shortages are not merely another episode in the war in Ukraine. Europe’s drought is not simply another bad agricultural season. Together they illustrate how physical capacity is becoming the limiting factor in an economy still accustomed to thinking primarily in financial terms. The next supply shock may therefore look very different from the last one. It may not arrive as a dramatic interruption visible on television screens. It may emerge progressively through lower refinery output, smaller planted areas, declining inventories and increasingly expensive logistics. By the time it appears clearly in inflation data, much of the damage will already have been done. The next inflation shock is not waiting for winter. It is already being produced — and, in parts of Europe, it may already be failing to be planted.