Silicon Valley futurist Roy Amara famously observed in the 1970s that we “tend to overestimate the effect of a technology in the short run and underestimate the effect in the long run.”
That insight—later dubbed “Amara’s Law”—has since traveled far beyond the realm of technology, offering a useful paradigm through which to understand disruption in all its forms.
Consider America’s attack on Iran. Its immediate costs are readily measurable: disruptions to oil, petrochemical, and fertilizer supply chains; rising global prices; and, most starkly, the loss of human life. These are the visible, short-term consequences.
The longer-term effects are far less quantifiable and certain. One conclusion appears difficult to avoid: the Iranian regime will endure. In the process, however, its relationships with Arab neighbors may be strained for generations.
Also, rather than weakened, Tehran may emerge more self-assured; its sense of strategic confidence reinforced. A new generation of young Iranians, meanwhile, may emerge with a durable anti-Western sentiment.
Yes, the oil will flow again. Markets will stabilize; supply chains will adapt. But, as with the world’s first atomic detonation, disruption in the Strait of Hormuz reveals two enduring truths.
First, it demonstrates that such disruption is an effective political weapon. Second, like the splitting of the atom, that knowledge cannot be unlearned.
The result is a region at risk of settling into a prolonged and uncertain stasis—defined by unresolved tensions, strategic mistrust, and latent instability. The Strait itself endures, indifferent and unmoved, governed not by politics but by far older geotechnical forces.
That is a problem for the parties to the conflict. But what of others? The energy-hungry yet resource-constrained economies of Asia, for example. Are they prepared for a future in which this vital artery can be constricted so abruptly?
Hardly. Do they wish to be drawn into future conflicts to secure supply? Some may, but most regard such mercantilism as a relic of another era—prohibitively expensive, strategically fraught and morally questionable.
So-called strategic oil reserves, such as those maintained by the United States, are costly to sustain. At best, they can steady markets briefly, buying time for a supply response. Their primary purpose, however, is to support military readiness, not to underwrite long-term security.
There is, fortunately, another option for energy-hungry Asia markets. The inland Canadian province of Alberta holds the world’s third-largest proven oil reserves, after Saudi Arabia and Venezuela. Current production is roughly four million barrels per day—enough, in principle, to meet all of Japan’s oil demand for example.
The province is also a major natural gas producer. Equally important, it has a robust supply of inexpensive electricity needed to power the condensers required for liquefaction and shipping. Yet this is only part of the story.
Alberta’s output remains constrained by a chronic lack of infrastructure investment. Production could be significantly higher. The core challenge is market access: nearly 90% of Alberta’s oil exports flow to the United States—primarily to Midwest refineries in Illinois, Minnesota and Wisconsin.
With few alternative outlets, Canada effectively sells into a monopsony, thereby accepting a persistent discount to market, typically ranging from 17% to 37%.
Canadians have tolerated this arrangement for two reasons. First, successive federal governments have constrained resource development in the name of climate policy. This has been abetted by US-financed environmental groups who have smeared the industry.
Second, there has long been a belief in a stable, mutually beneficial relationship with the US. Cheap oil for goodwill in consideration of goodwill in other areas, most notably Ontario’s automotive sector, for instance.
The election of Mark Carney—former governor of both the Bank of Canada and the Bank of England, plus past vice-chair of Brookfield Asset Management—has begun to shift that balance. The rhetoric remains cautious, but policy is becoming more pragmatic.
Canada’s economy, meanwhile, is under increasing pressure from a historic trading partner that is, at best, unpredictable and relentlessly self-interested. Others would claim that it’s predatory.
Many Canadians feel an absence of respect, and trade diversification has re-emerged as a serious policy objective. That ambition has been voiced for decades; this time, it carries more weight.
At the same time, public finances are tightening, and energy development offers a clear path to economic growth and fiscal stability. Alternatives are less obvious. Carney appears to understand these realities.
Western Canada presents Asia with a compelling alternative: a stable and abundant energy source, supported by well-managed ports, mature legal and financial institutions, and a predictable political environment. Crucially, it offers a direct route to Pacific markets, largely insulated from regional conflict.
The challenge remains access to tidewater. Canada has just one major pipeline to the Pacific coast: the Trans Mountain Pipeline. Following its 2024 expansion, it can carry just under one million barrels per day, up from roughly 350,000.
That project cost US$30 billion and proceeded only after the federal government stepped in to acquire it from US-based Kinder Morgan. Plans are now under consideration to add a further 200,000 barrels of capacity per day.
What both Canada and Asia need is a meaningful expansion of capacity on Canada’s West Coast. The circumstances are aligning. Direct foreign investment in pipelines and upstream development could secure a reliable energy supply for decades to come.
Just as importantly, that supply would likely remain available at a discount to global spot prices—perhaps a narrower one, but a discount nonetheless.
Most Canadian oil would still flow to the US. But Canada would benefit from higher overall production, increased royalties, and a gradual narrowing of the price discount on southbound exports.
The rockets now arcing over the Persian Gulf will, in time, fall silent. The Strait of Hormuz will once again be crowded with tankers. Yet, as Amara’s insight suggests, the deeper consequences of this moment will only become clear long after the immediate disruption has passed — and, perhaps, been forgotten.
What’s clearer is that the conditions for a dramatic energy supply chain shift have never been better.
Charlie Grahn is a supply chain veteran and business instructor at Langara College in Vancouver, Canada.
Green energy motivation.