Welcome to 2026, where we find ourselves collectively asking: Are we heading into another energy crisis, or did the last one just take a brief vacation?
To be fair, it’s not quite the financial apocalypse of 2022 yet. We aren’t at the stage where looking at your monthly utility bill requires a stiff drink and a breathing exercise, but the prices are definitely stretching their legs and climbing the charts again.
We all know the root cause. The blockade at the Strait of Hormuz has essentially put a cork in one of the world's most vital oil and gas bottlenecks. I won’t pretend to be a geopolitical analyst or sit here and point fingers at who is right and who is wrong in the Middle East. The only undeniable truth is the absolute tragedy of innocent lives being destroyed by conflicts they have nothing to do with. Well, that, and the cynical reality that the only person popping champagne right now seems to be Vladimir Putin, who suddenly gets to sell his oil at a premium again.
But let’s talk about how this global butterfly effect is hitting our wallets, starting with the wonderfully bizarre logic of the Belgian energy market.
The Belgian Electricity Paradox
Prices are jumping, and here in Belgium, we have this fascinating system where the price of electricity is chained directly to the price of gas. Why? It’s a masterclass in unintended consequences.
We wanted to phase out nuclear energy, meaning our nuclear plants aren't running at full capacity, and some have been switched off entirely. To cover the inevitable shortfall, we need gas plants to step in and save the day. Naturally, the commercial operators will only fire up these gas plants if there’s a profit to be made—and voilà, the prices of gas and electricity are officially linked.
The absolute kicker? Gas produces barely 18% of Belgium’s electricity. Yet, because of the Hormuz blockade squeezing the gas supply, all our electricity gets more expensive. It’s a bit like the price of apples skyrocketing just because the supermarket ran out of bananas.
Playing the EV Stock Market At home, this requires some serious logistical gymnastics. We have two EVs sitting in the driveway, and keeping them fed on a dynamic energy tariff turns you into a part-time day trader. The electricity price changes every single hour based on grid demand.
Last weekend was a perfect example. Between 11:00 AM and 4:00 PM, the price dipped below a glorious 3 cents per kWh. But wait until dinner time? It violently spiked to over 20 cents. Planning your charging sessions around those afternoon dips takes some puzzling, but it genuinely saves a pretty penny—or as we say around here, dat scheelt een slok op een borrel.
Paper Europe and the Tank Tourists
This entire mess really exposes the illusion of a united Europe. We might have a shared currency and open borders, but when it comes to a unified energy strategy, "Paper Europe" folds pretty quickly. We have no collective voice and certainly no collective energy pricing.
The direct result of this? Good old-fashioned tank tourism.
I live right near the borders of the Netherlands and Germany. Because of the massive discrepancies in national taxes and excise duties, the price gap is staggering. If you roll across the border from the Netherlands into Belgium to fill up a standard 50-liter car with petrol or diesel, you can easily save €20 in a single trip. (Yes, you can verify that—the price difference really is that absurd right now).
A Parking Lot Called Home
If you could save €20 just by driving 15 minutes, you’d do it too. And boy, are they doing it.
I live in a municipality of about 40,000 people. Depending on your definition, that makes us either a very small city or a town with a severe identity crisis. We have exactly one highway on-and-off ramp for both directions, elegantly bookended by two roundabouts. Naturally, there are multiple gas stations within a one-kilometer radius of this bottleneck, plus a massive dedicated truck stop in the industrial zone.
On a normal day, rush hour at these roundabouts is a mild test of patience. Today? It’s a localized apocalypse.
It’s not even "stop-and-go" traffic anymore; it’s just a parking lot. Hundreds of cars and trucks are permanently lined up on the right-hand lane of the highway, just waiting to exit and reach the pumps. For the gas station owners, it’s an absolute goldmine. But for the locals who just want to get home after a long day at work, our town has turned into a daily logistical nightmare.
So, are we in an energy crisis? Maybe. But until the world sorts itself out, I'll be in my driveway, frantically checking my dynamic tariff app, watching the tourists queue up for fuel.
Cheers,
Peter