By Sunil Kapoor
Global trade depends on seafarers, yet when crises happen the system meant to protect them often fails. Sunil Kapoor reports.
Ships are burning at sea — flames and thick dark smoke rising into the sky.
Not warships. Not naval vessels.
Ordinary merchant ships carrying cargo for the global economy, with civilian seafarers on board simply doing their jobs.
Following recent attacks on merchant vessels in the Strait of Hormuz, the secretary-general of the International Maritime Organization, Arsenio Dominguez, issued a statement expressing deep concern over casualties among seafarers. He said attacks on innocent civilian shipping can never be justified and reaffirmed that freedom of navigation remains a fundamental principle of international maritime law.
There is sometimes a sense of bravado in this business — ships passing through dangerous waters and the story later presented as a success
The words are correct. But we have heard them many times before.
Every time merchant ships are attacked, or seafarers lose their lives in geopolitical conflicts, the same kind of statements appear.
What is less clear is what these statements mean for the seafarer standing watch tonight on the bridge.
Over the past few years, we have seen several situations where the system that is supposed to protect seafarers simply did not work.
The Covid period is a very good example.
During that time, governments insisted that seafarers could not remain on board ships beyond twelve months. Port state and local authorities were very strict in checking that crew contracts were within the legal limits before allowing ships to operate.
At the same time, those very governments often refused to issue visas for incoming crew or allow crew members to disembark.
Ships trading in certain regions simply had no practical way to change crews.
This created a strange and frustrating catch-22 situation. Authorities insisted that no seafarer should remain on board beyond the permitted period, but the same system made it impossible for crew changes to happen.
To keep vessels trading, many ships started operating with additional people on board. Relief crew would join the vessel, but the seafarers who had already exceeded their contracts were not allowed to leave.
So they continued sailing as ‘passengers’. On paper, the rules were followed. In reality, everyone knew the system was not working.
I remember one vessel during that period arriving in port carrying the body of a seafarer who had died on board. The crew had kept the body in the ship’s freezer and requested permission to land it so it could be repatriated to the family.
The ship sailed from one port to another. No authority was willing to allow the body to be landed. The crew continued their voyage carrying the remains of their colleague while his family waited thousands of miles away for a funeral that could not take place.
A similar situation appeared when war broke out between Russia and Ukraine.
Merchant ships were suddenly trapped in Ukrainian ports while missiles were falling around them. The crew on those ships were not soldiers. They were commercial seafarers responsible for maintaining the safety of their vessels and cargo.
When evacuation became necessary, the responsibility for getting those crews home fell largely on ship managers and the seafarers themselves.
They organised transport, arranged routes out of the region, and found their own way home while the conflict continued.
Today we are again seeing ships under attack in the Red Sea and surrounding waters.
In March 2024, the bulk carrier True Confidence was hit by a missile off Yemen. Three seafarers were killed and several others were injured.
They were not part of any war. They were simply doing their jobs.
The damaged vessel drifted for months before a port was finally willing to accept it. Later there will be many discussions and analyses about how the vessel ended up in such a dangerous situation and what led to it being hit in broad daylight. But for the families of those seafarers, those explanations will make little difference.
Now tensions in the Strait of Hormuz are creating similar concerns. The whole area is on fire. More than 1,000 ships are stuck in the strait.
Now the question is what needs to be done. Should ships stay and wait, or continue sailing through the strait?
Some political leaders have suggested that ships should simply continue sailing through the strait and “show some guts”.
Such comments may sound strong in political speeches, but they ignore the reality faced by the master and crew of a merchant vessel.
Decisions taken in political offices eventually fall on the seafarers navigating those waters. For them, the risk is very real.
Within the industry there can also be pressure to keep trading through high-risk areas. Sometimes when a ship passes safely through a dangerous region it is presented as a success story. But the outcome is not the same for every vessel.
When an incident happens and a seafarer dies, one has to ask a basic question. Does anyone investigate the instructions given to the ship? On what basis were the master and crew told to sail through such areas?
The vessel may be insured. The cargo may be insured. But human life cannot be replaced.
When we bought our vessel, one thing was very clear to us. We will never endanger the lives of our seafarers. No cargo and no charter is worth that risk. If a situation becomes unsafe, our vessel will stay away from conflict areas.
There is sometimes a sense of bravado in this business — ships passing through dangerous waters and the story later presented as a success. But when something goes wrong, it is the seafarers who pay the price.
When incidents happen, one thing becomes clear. The risks of geopolitical conflict are not carried by politicians or decision makers sitting far away. They are carried by seafarers onboard the vessels.
In many of these crises, the practical solutions have come from the shipping industry itself. Shipowners, managers, agents, and local maritime communities organise repatriation, support families, and deal with emergencies.
International organisations issue statements and hold discussions.
This raises a simple question.
The vast majority of world trade moves by sea. The global economy depends on seafarers. Yet when crises happen — whether pandemics, wars, or attacks on ships — the world still does not have a reliable system to protect them.
Behind every crew list there is a family waiting at home.
When a seafarer boards a ship, the expectation is simple: that the voyage will end safely and that he will return home. But when merchant ships become targets in geopolitical conflicts, that expectation can disappear very quickly.
Statements of concern will continue to be issued after every incident. But for the families waiting at home, one thing is clear. When seafarers die, statements are not enough.
