Force Majeure in the Iran War: The Hidden Traps We Are Not Talking About (Yet)
Apr 13 2026
Force Majeure Is Back—But the Real Exposure Is not the Clause.
The Iran war has pushed force majeure out of the boilerplate and onto the GC’s dashboard. Disruption is showing up through shipping constraints, infrastructure impacts, energy volatility, insurer retrenchment, and sanctions/payment friction. The usual reminders still matter—narrow construction, strict notice, and credible mitigation—but these are table stakes, not strategy.
Most commentary stays in the predictable lane: does the force majeure (FM) clause say “war,” “embargo,” or “government action”? Was performance truly prevented? Was notice timely? Those questions are necessary—and they are where many teams stop. For GCs, the harder problem is decision quality: how the contract allocates risk, what alternatives exist, and what records will survive scrutiny when the counterparty, auditors, insurers, or regulators ask why performance has changed.
This conflict has caused many types of disruptions. It is simultaneously a shipping event, an insurance-market event, and a sanctions/compliance event—with knock-on effects that propagate through multi-tier supply chains and service ecosystems. That mix is what turns routine FM notices into allocation fights, covenant breaches, and termination or renegotiation pressure.
In practice, FM notices appear to have arrived in three waves—each driven by different operational facts and legal theories. Wave 1 followed the escalation and disruption around the Strait of Hormuz: upstream energy and commodities players declared FM where facilities were damaged, shut by government order, or unable to export due to vessel unavailability and security risk (publicly reported examples include Qatar Energy (LNG), Kuwait Petroleum Corporation, Bahrain’s Bapco Energies, and Aluminium Bahrain). Wave 2 emerged as downstream manufacturers and petrochemical producers outside the conflict zone lost feedstock, shipping capacity, or insurance coverage—leading to more contested notices that turn on causation and risk allocation (reported examples include Aster Chemicals and Energy (Singapore), Chandra Asri (Indonesia), and Yeochun NCC (South Korea)). Wave 3 is the contract-by-contract volume: voyage-, route-, and window-specific notices across shipping, logistics, and trading markets—often narrower than enterprise-wide shutdowns (including shipment-focused declarations like Aluminium Bahrain’s, alongside similar contract-level notices by carriers, traders, and logistics providers managing diversions and insurance constraints).
The points below flag where GCs should expect real friction—places where the facts, the clause, and the risk allocation typically diverge.
In war-adjacent corridors, benefits of insurance can vanish overnight: war-risk premiums spike, exclusions expand, and certain voyages become uninsurable or commercially irrational. That is not just a cost issue—many contracts require maintaining specific insurance. If coverage is withdrawn, a party may face an immediate covenant breach even before any shipment is missed.
The next wave of disputes will be about pass-through. A producer declares force majeure; its buyer cannot manufacture; downstream customer gets a force majeure notice. The instinct is to treat these as dominoes. Contract law often does not.
A recurring theme in disputes arising from all three waves is whether the risk was foreseeable. The better framing is often: which specific escalation consequence was not reasonably foreseeable at signing (e.g., route closures, targeted infrastructure strikes, insurance pullbacks, payment restrictions).
Many force majeure disputes are really price disputes. Fuel costs jump, shipping reroutes add weeks, and inputs become scarce.
Most guidance is written for the party invoking force majeure, but many disputes are driven by the recipient of a notice who believes it is defective or opportunistic. Common vulnerabilities include event not within the clause, weak causation, late notice, failure to mitigate, and continued performance suggesting performance was not truly prevented.
In the Iran war context, parties may find that sanctions, export controls, payment restrictions, and regulatory actions—not physical hostilities—are what make performance unlawful or impracticable. The key is coordination in sequence: compliance covenants, illegality-based termination rights, and force majeure notices must be timed and framed to fit together.
Force majeure clauses often suspend obligations, sometimes with termination rights if the event persists. But conflicts can drag on, and what began as ‘temporary’ becomes indefinite.
The Iran war will drive force majeure claims and disputes, but outcomes will be decided in the surrounding deal architecture. The critical questions are not just commercial—they are the questions a court, tribunal, regulator, insurer, or auditor will ask after the fact: what risk the contract allocated, what alternatives were realistically available, what decisions were made in real time, and what record supports them. Focus less on whether “war” appears in the clause and more on causation, proof, and the way force majeure interfaces with insurance covenants, sanctions and payment restrictions, risk allocation provisions, and termination rights. The key is sequencing: compliance covenants, termination rights for illegality, and force majeure notices must align. Treat each notice as a controlled decision—stabilize performance where you can, reprice or reroute where you must, and exit where exposure is unmanaged—and document the file as if it likely will be reviewed in litigation or an enforcement proceeding.
Contact any of the WBD attorneys here for assistance with strategies to navigate your contractual obligations in these uncertain geopolitical times—including the execution of force majeure and other performance provisions.