Peter’s January 2026 Blog

There are conversations one senses are coming before they arrive, the kind you would rather sidestep but cannot. They bring with them a queasy mix of reluctance and inevitability: a tired awareness that, however much you avert your eyes, your thoughts keep circling back. That is the mood in which I approach this month’s reflection.

Recent USA seizures of vessels alleged to be part of what has been called the “dark” or “shadow” fleet—ships accused of evading sanctions linked to the Venezuelan oil trade—have drawn a mixed international response. On one level, that ambivalence is understandable. Shadow fleet operations exist precisely to avoid scrutiny. They are opaque by design, often flouting the international legal frameworks that underpin maritime safety and the protection of seafarers. Few would argue against the need for greater light and transparency in this murky corner of global trade.

Yet illumination, as ever, casts shadows of its own.

The detentions have prompted debate about their legality. Under international law, vessels on the high seas fall under the exclusive jurisdiction of their flag state, save for a handful of tightly defined exceptions. Seizing such a vessel is, in principle, an infringement of sovereignty, but there are exceptions. One such exception arises where a ship is stateless, and this may well be the basis on which USA authorities are acting. In the fluid world of shadow fleet operations—where a vessel’s flag may change with alarming frequency or claim a flag affiliation that is not in fact recognised by the flag state concerned, this seems highly likely.

There is a broader point here about accountability. Certain flag states appear disproportionately associated with vessels engaged in sanctions evasion. It is not unreasonable to suggest that persistent laxity should carry consequences. A system that allows responsibility to dissipate easily invites abuse. Detention can bring a measure of accountability.

But amid the legal arguments and geopolitical calculations, there is a quieter, more human question that risks being overlooked: what has happened to the seafarers?

Information about the crews of seized vessels is scarce. That absence should not be taken as presumption of mistreatment. Those working in maritime welfare know all too well the twin afflictions of “sea blindness” and “seafarer blindness”: a chronic lack of attention to an industry that underpins global life, and to the people who work within it. Silence may reflect indifference rather than abuse. Even so, clarity would offer reassurance—not least to the seafarers themselves and their families.

The legal framework is not obscure. Under the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), sanctions against a vessel do not automatically justify the detention or criminalisation of those on board. Seafarers may be detained only where there is reasonable suspicion of individual criminal conduct, where detention is necessary and proportionate, and where due process is followed. Crucially, this assessment must be made case by case; collective detention of an entire crew does not meet the standard. Any detention must also be subject to prompt judicial review.

The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) reinforces these protections, making clear that individuals cannot be held simply because the ship they were sailing on has been seized.

Some jurisdictions, including the USA, have in the past relied instead on immigration law to hold crews. How this applies to individuals brought ashore or port involuntarily following a seizure in international waters is, at best, debatable. Even if such an approach were accepted, the Vienna Convention on Consular Relations (VCCR) still requires that detainees be informed without delay of their right to consular assistance, and that consulates be allowed access to offer support, legal help and repatriation.

The United States has signed but not ratified UNCLOS, though it has ratified both the ICCPR and VCCR. There is therefore a commitment from the USA and a strong expectation internationally that these standards will be observed in practice.

This then is not an accusation by any means. It is not an assertion that safeguards are being ignored. It is, rather, an expression of unease born of experience. Time and again, seafarers find themselves treated as collateral in complex global disputes, forgotten not through malice but through neglect. There are, however, treaty commitments and due processes that when followed can ensure that this does not happen.

That is why this uncomfortable conversation matters. A clear, public account of how seafarers on seized vessels are being treated, what legal processes are being applied, and how international obligations are being honoured would be welcome. It would strengthen confidence in enforcement actions, reassure families, and affirm that even in the pursuit of legitimate objectives, the human beings at the sharp end are not invisible.

Sometimes, the most constructive act is simply to remind ourselves—and those in authority—of what we already claim to value.