Shipping is the lifeblood of world trade, and therefore we need stability, security and predictability.
For the first time in decades, the Strait of Hormuz — a narrow passage through which one-fifth of the world's oil flows — has become impassable, not by accident but by deliberate geopolitical force. Since late February, a sequence of strikes, closures, and naval blockades has stranded twenty thousand seafarers and fifteen hundred vessels in the Persian Gulf, exposing the fragility of the international maritime order that has quietly sustained global commerce for generations. At Singapore Maritime Week, industry leaders gathered not merely to manage a disruption, but to ask a harder question: whether the rules-based system that makes global trade possible can survive when powerful states choose to ignore it.
- The Strait of Hormuz has opened and closed multiple times in weeks — each reversal forcing ship operators to gamble with incomplete information and human lives.
- Twenty thousand seafarers remain stranded in a volatile region with no guaranteed timeline for safe departure, waiting on political decisions beyond their control.
- Oil and gas prices spiked when the Strait closed; a brief reopening sent tankers rushing through before Iran shut it again hours later, illustrating how fragile any relief has been.
- The IMO has advised vessels to avoid the Strait entirely until firm safety guarantees exist, while simultaneously coordinating evacuation frameworks and supply access for trapped crews.
- Ships rerouting around the Cape of Good Hope are adding weeks to journeys, driving up fuel costs and consumer prices as the industry absorbs the economic weight of the standoff.
- Industry leaders are pressing the nations that initiated the conflict to restore pre-crisis maritime conditions, warning that without political will to uphold international law, the entire system of global trade is at risk.
In the span of eight weeks, the Strait of Hormuz — responsible for moving one-fifth of the world's oil — has gone from a reliable artery of global commerce to a zone where ships do not go. Following US and Israeli strikes on Iranian targets in late February, Tehran closed the waterway, briefly reopened it, then closed it again after warning shots were fired in response to an American naval blockade. The result: fifteen hundred vessels and twenty thousand seafarers are trapped in the Persian Gulf, unable to move safely.
At Singapore Maritime Week, industry leaders confronted what the crisis has made undeniable — the international framework governing shipping since 1968 is fraying. Thomas Kazakos of the International Chamber of Shipping, whose members control over eighty percent of the world's merchant fleet, was direct: eighty percent of global trade moves by sea, and that trade depends on open waterways and predictable rules. Each closure and reversal forces operators to make high-stakes decisions on incomplete information, and every risk is ultimately borne by the people aboard the ships.
The human cost is what Kazakos and IMO Secretary-General Arsenio Dominguez keep returning to. Twenty thousand people are waiting in a volatile region with no clear departure timeline. Evacuation frameworks are being prepared, supplies coordinated — but safety requires guarantees that have not yet materialized. The IMO has advised operators to avoid the Strait entirely until firm assurances are in place, a cautious stance shaped by the danger of acting on conflicting reports.
The industry is adapting, rerouting vessels around the Cape of Good Hope at significant cost in time and fuel. Dominguez frames the crisis as a test of whether international cooperation still functions under pressure, arguing that the nations who initiated the conflict bear responsibility for restoring the conditions that allowed maritime trade to operate without incident. Until they do, thousands of people remain in limbo — and a system built on shared rules faces its gravest challenge since the pandemic.
In the span of eight weeks, a waterway that moves one-fifth of the world's oil has become a place where ships do not go. Since late February, when the United States and Israel struck Iranian targets, the Strait of Hormuz has transformed from a reliable artery of global commerce into a zone of uncertainty—closed by Tehran for nearly two months, then briefly reopened, then closed again after warning shots were fired. The result is stark: twenty thousand seafarers and fifteen hundred vessels remain trapped in the Persian Gulf, unable to move safely, unable to leave.
The crisis has exposed something deeper than a temporary disruption. At the Singapore Maritime Week this week, industry leaders gathered to confront a troubling reality: the international system that has governed shipping for decades is fraying under geopolitical pressure. The Strait of Hormuz has been regulated by the International Maritime Organization since 1968 in what was considered a secure and orderly manner. That framework depended on a basic assumption—that countries would follow agreed-upon rules, that navigation would remain open, that seafarers would be protected. The current conflict has shattered that assumption.
Thomas Kazakos, who leads the International Chamber of Shipping, represents shipowners controlling more than eighty percent of the world's merchant fleet. He is blunt about what is at stake: eighty percent of global trade moves by sea, and that trade depends on international standards, open waterways, and predictable rules. Without those things, the system breaks. The concern is not abstract. When the Strait closed, oil and gas prices spiked worldwide. When it briefly reopened last Friday, more than a dozen tankers rushed through before Iran shut it again on Saturday in response to the American naval blockade that remains in place. Each reversal forces operators to make decisions on incomplete information, each decision carries risk, and each risk is borne by the people on the ships.
The human dimension is what Kazakos and Arsenio Dominguez, the IMO's secretary-general, keep returning to. Twenty thousand people are waiting in a volatile region with no clear timeline for departure. The organizations are preparing evacuation frameworks, coordinating with governments, trying to ensure that stranded crews have supplies. But evacuation cannot happen until conditions are genuinely safe—and safety requires guarantees that have not yet materialized. The IMO has advised operators to avoid the Strait entirely until firm assurances are in place. It is a cautious stance born from hard experience: when conflicting reports circulated about whether the waterway had reopened, acting on incomplete data could have put lives at risk.
Meanwhile, the industry is adapting in ways that carry their own costs. Ships are rerouting around the Cape of Good Hope, adding weeks to journeys that once took days through the Suez Canal. Fuel consumption climbs. Prices rise for consumers. The shipping industry has survived for centuries by improvising and overcoming, Kazakos notes, but the preference is clear: open the waterways, restore the routes, return to efficiency and reliability.
Dominguez frames the immediate crisis as a test of whether international cooperation still functions when it matters most. The countries that initiated the conflict bear responsibility for restoring the conditions that existed before—conditions under which maritime trade operated without incident. The IMO's rules are clear. What is needed now is the political will to uphold them, to guarantee that ships and seafarers will not be attacked, to reapply international law to the Strait. Until that happens, thousands of people remain in limbo, and a system built on shared rules faces its most serious challenge since the pandemic.
Even as the industry confronts this immediate threat, it is also being pressed to transform—to decarbonize, to adopt new fuels and technologies, to meet net-zero targets by 2050. The crisis may actually accelerate that change by forcing diversification and innovation. But first, the Strait must be safe again. First, the seafarers must be able to go home.
Citações Notáveis
The most important thing right now is to make sure that shipping remains an international facilitator of trade, because 80 per cent of the world trade is carried by sea, and therefore should always remain under international standards and global rules.— Thomas Kazakos, International Chamber of Shipping
We need to have adherence to international law. We need to have freedom of navigation … and a trust and reliable regulatory framework. Because without that … we will not be able to provide the services.— Thomas Kazakos, International Chamber of Shipping
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why does it matter so much that the Strait of Hormuz specifically is closed? Couldn't ships just take other routes?
They can, and they are—but it costs them. The Strait is the shortest path between the Persian Gulf and the rest of the world. Rerouting around Africa adds weeks and burns far more fuel. When you multiply that across thousands of ships, the inefficiency becomes a global problem: higher shipping costs, higher prices for consumers, and a system that was designed to work smoothly suddenly grinding.
You mention that the IMO has rules dating back to 1968. Why haven't those rules prevented this?
The rules don't prevent geopolitical conflict. They set the terms for how navigation should work once peace is restored. The IMO can't police the seas or force countries to comply. It depends on member states to uphold the framework. What's happening now is that framework being tested—and so far, it's holding only because people are choosing caution over risk.
The article mentions conflicting information about whether the Strait reopened. Why is that so dangerous?
Because ship operators have to make real-time decisions with incomplete data. If you're told the Strait is safe and it isn't, you've just sent a vessel and its crew into danger. If you're told it's closed and it's actually open, you've lost time and money. The IMO's approach is to verify everything before advising transit. It's slow, but it's the only way to protect people.
What happens to the twenty thousand seafarers while all this is being sorted out?
They wait. They're stranded on ships in a volatile region, unable to leave, with uncertain supply lines. The organizations are preparing evacuation frameworks, but evacuation can only happen when it's genuinely safe. It's a holding pattern with real human cost—people separated from families, uncertain when they'll go home, living with the knowledge that their safety depends on political decisions they have no control over.
Is there a path forward, or is this the new normal?
There's a path, but it requires the countries involved to step back from the conflict and restore the conditions that existed before—open navigation, no attacks on ships, adherence to international law. The IMO is calling for that explicitly. Whether it happens depends on whether the political will exists to prioritize the system over the conflict.