Burn, Sea Baby, burn
ADDING the names of more vessels to an ever-growing list of ships that must be denied port entry and maritime services is one thing. Blowing up tankers in the Mediterranean is something else entirely.
Details of the attack on Qendil(IMO: 9310525) were still coming in at the time of writing. But the incident, which took place more than 2,000 miles away from the theatre of war, ranks as Ukraine’s most spectacular destructive exploit aimed at merchant tonnage yet.
The ante has been well and truly upped, in a turn of events for which shipping did not ask but is getting anyway.
Seen from the perspective of a country that has for almost four years been on the receiving end of a brutal, unprovoked and illegal invasion, the motivation is understandable.
The EU, US and UK have imposed sanctions on ships servicing Russian crude and products exports for almost as long as this horrible war has been running.
The latest round was unveiled earlier this week, with Brussels adding a further 41 names to the roster of the shadow fleet*, bringing the total to nearly 600.
Crushed between the conflicting imperatives of undermining Putin’s war economy and not sending the price of oil through the roof, the stipulations have generated a massive compliance headache for shipowners and marine insurers.
Well-meant officials sitting behind desks in the Berlaymont Building will no doubt be patting themselves on the back for their demonstrable if pragmatic solidarity with those on the frontline, even if member states cannot reach agreement on seizing frozen Russian assets.
Forgive families cowering in shelters as bombs rain down on Zaporizhzhia or Dnipro, with power outages leaving them unable to turn on the heating in the middle of an east European winter, for only finding two cheers in their hearts.
Anything that takes the fight to the enemy will be good for morale. The targeting of Qendil comes after Ukrainian drones have taken out a number of shadow fleet ships in the Black Sea in recent weeks.
Responsibility for multiple apparent limpet mine explosions on tankers that have participated in the Russian oil trade — and, let it be stressed, entirely lawfully — has not formally been claimed.
But to cite the famous Sherlock Holmes formula that has assisted generations of crime fiction readers in working out whodunnit, the Zelensky government stands out for having the means, the motive and the opportunity.
Attacks on civilian shipping are in normal circumstances a war crime. But some lawyers contend that as the victim of a grand scale war crime itself, Ukraine may have an arguable legal case.
Unfortunately, the ethical case doesn’t stand up. To begin with, these actions prejudice the safety of merchant seafarers, who are by definition non-combatants.
The nationality of the Qendil’s crew was not in the public domain at the time of writing. But that does not matter, because it is irrelevant.
Nor does it matter that the ship is sanctioned. The fact that a vessel is on a blacklist does not provide justification for violently sinking it.
Qendil is reportedly flagged in Oman, which is not a belligerent, although we await confirmation on that point. If that is indeed the case, the Omani government may well have recourse to international law.
The deleterious environmental consequences of oil spills from aframaxes are historically attested. At 115,000 dwt, Qendil is in the same size bracket as Prestige.
Thankfully, it was in ballast, thereby averting a possible rerun scenario. Even so, bunker spills can be nasty to tackle in their own right.
Doubtless the military and intelligence chiefs behind Ukraine’s strategy will be mindful of this consideration. But in war, things can and do go wrong, and the worst sometimes does come to the worst.
Many shadow fleet tankers are uninsured. The International Group can’t touch them and the International Oil Pollution Compensation Funds does not, as a matter of policy, pay out on spills that arise as the result of hostilities.
The bill would therefore land with the coastal state, which would not take kindly to having to fork out for a huge clean-up.
What of the ramifications for shipping and marine insurance directly? Here a more cool-headed — some would say cynical — take is on offer.
The experience of numerous conflicts past tells us that high levels of danger mean high returns for shipowners willing to put other people’s lives on the line. There are no grounds for thinking that this time will be any different.
Commercial war risk is traditionally an insurance cash cow. Premiums are priced to be profitable, which means insurers do well out of elevated war risk. The clue really is in the name.
The attacks on Kairos(IMO: 9236004) and Virat in recent weeks saw the cost of Black Sea war risk cover jump by 250%. Assessing the implications of what happened to Qendil will disrupt the last weekend before Christmas for marine underwriters, but the conclusion seems a no-brainer, especially given Putin’s promise of retaliation.
The attack remains a one-off. But if risk perceptions for the Mediterranean are raised, the impact will be felt by many owners previously untouched by the Ukraine-Russia hostilities.
Meanwhile, the prospects for poor besieged Ukraine look ever more bleak. Trump and Putin continue to discuss a deal with little input from Zelensky, who may yet be forced to sign a humiliating settlement, sealing a fate the country does not deserve.
Desperation is understandable. But any chance of a peace treaty with some slight semblance of honour depends on the continued goodwill of the rest of the West.
If the gut reaction of many Ukrainians reduces to ‘burn, Sea Baby, burn’, we get it. But this is not the best way to secure the desired outcome.
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