It’s a tight squeeze for commercial vessels trying to
move their goods between Europe and Asian markets -- but not as tight as it
used to be.
Beginning in the Mediterranean Sea, ships have to pass
through the Suez Canal and into the Red Sea. Then they navigate the narrow
Bab-el-Mandeb -- Arabic for the “Strait of Grief” --
between the sandy coastlines of Yemen and Djibouti. Next comes the Gulf of
Aden, which borders northern Somalia and opens up to the Arabian Sea.
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Photo: Reuters/Sgt. Mats Nystrom/Combat Camera Swedish
Armed Forces/Scanpix
A soldier aboard the Swedish corvette HMS Malmo aims his
machine gun at a boat carrying suspected pirates in the Gulf of Aden on May 26,
2009.
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Tens of thousands of ships pass through the Gulf of Aden
annually, as do tens of billions of dollars in cargo, and about 4 percent of the
world’s oil supply.
That's a rich bounty for criminals, and so in recent
years, piracy -- an old scourge -- has exploded onto the scene with new
intensity.
Since 2008, pirates based in the East African country of
Somalia have launched hundreds of attacks against passing ships and held
thousands of hostages. It’s ransom they’re after: On a good day, just one
seizure can yield millions of dollars in profit.
But times aren’t what they used to be for these maritime
criminals. The business of piracy has taken a nosedive in Somalia, and now
lucrative old networks are falling apart at the seams.
Data compiled by the International Maritime Bureau, or
IMB, show that piracy hit a five-year low in 2012. Only 28 ships were
successfully hijacked. A total of 297 were attacked, down from 439 the year
before and 445 the year before that. Those figures are global: In the areas
surrounding Somalia, only 75 ships reported attacks last year, with 14 of them
hijacked.
Tipping The Scales
As with all shady enterprises, the costs and revenue
associated with piracy are difficult to pin down. One 2012 report by
researchers at the London School of Economics and Political Science and the
Institut d’Analisi Economica in Barcelona, Spain, estimated that during piracy’s
golden years, its total gross revenue from ransom amounted to $200 million a
year. Accounting for presumed operating costs leaves a net profit of around
$120 million.
Even shared among thousands of pirates, criminal
financiers, and go-betweens, that’s a big chunk of change for citizens of a
country among the world's poorest, with no functioning government and nearly
one-half the people living below the poverty line, and where society is in such
turmoil that even the World Bank has no current estimate for its gross domestic
product per capita.
But the gains of Somali pirates are a pittance compared
with the costs they force on the global economy. According to an Oceans Beyond
Piracy report, the combined costs of increased security, insurance, rescue
efforts, lost business, and ransoms amounted to between $6.6 billion and $6.9
billion in 2011. At least 80 percent of those costs are incurred by the
shipping industry alone.
Human costs are also high. Another Oceans Beyond Piracy
report tallied up the deaths and found that 35 hostages lost their lives as a
result of pirate captivity in 2011. These tragedies result from attacks,
malnutrition, or simply getting caught in the crossfire. In total, 1,206 people
were held hostage by pirates that year, and 57 percent of them reported
mistreatment, including abuse and employment as human shields. Also during that
year, 111 Somali pirates died in clashes.
Despite all this, the hijackers don’t see themselves as
bad guys, or so they say. Many argue their original goal was to stop foreign
vessels from invading their waters and fishing in their territories.
Illegal fishing is indeed a problem for many African
countries. Foreign trawlers regularly invade the nautical territories of
poverty-stricken nations that lack defense resources. The crews use
irresponsible and wasteful fishing methods, harming marine life and ultimately
depleting supplies for communities that rely on fish for sustenance and
commerce.
But Somalia’s case is a difficult one to judge. Although
the country has the longest coastline in Africa, its main export is livestock,
not fish. In terms of data, Somalia is one of the most obscure places on earth,
making it difficult to tell just how much of the country is dependent on fish
for food or income.
Furthermore, Somalia has never officially laid claim to its
own Exclusive Economic Zone, or EEZ.
“Legally, every nation has jurisdiction up to 12 nautical
miles from the coast,” explained Cyrus Mody, assistant
director of the IMB. “Everything beyond that, up to 200
nautical miles from land, has to be declared. Somalia has not done that. If the
country has not declared an EEZ, then, arguably, those waters are
international.”
Mody added that, given the human-rights abuses committed
by pirates, their claims of morality are hard to swallow. “You could say they’re
trying to legitimize what they’re doing. But they are treating crews in
captivity in an inhumane manner,” he said.
Keeping It Local
Most of Somalia’s piracy is based in the northern, semiautonomous
region of Puntland, with some spillover farther south into Galmadug and central
Somalia.
The criminals had their heyday between 2008 and 2011.
Kingpins enjoyed lavish lifestyles, complete with fancy cars, showy villas,
and, most important, lots of khat -- a bitter leaf that, when chewed, acts as a
stimulant and plays a role similar to that of espresso in Western countries.
But even the high rollers have lately seen their incomes dwindle and their
creditors come calling.
Canadian journalist and author Jay Bahadur spent a total
of three months living among Somali pirates in 2009. A connection to the son of
Abdirahman Farole -- who was elected Puntland’s president on Jan. 8 of that
year -- helped him to stay out of danger, and Bahadur got a rare glimpse of the
pirate lifestyle during its peak.
As it turned out, 2009 was the beginning of the end for
pirates in Puntland. Farole put anti-piracy initiatives high on his political
agenda, and his administration proved more successful than its predecessors.
“One of the things the new government was able to do was
go into Eyl [a coastal town and piracy hub] and secure it, and this was in part
because the president was from the same clan as many of the people there. The
previous administration’s clan hadn’t been able to do it,” Bahadur said.
Although they were helped by international naval patrols
at sea, these local efforts played a significant role in hampering pirates’
activities on land.
Puntland was able to pursue its anti-piracy campaign with
a high degree of autonomy. It essentially functions as a nation-state, since a
kaleidoscope of militant gangs farther south have made Somalia’s capital city
of Mogadishu too weak to assert its power.
That may be precisely why piracy was able to thrive in
Puntland.
“For pirates, Puntland had a perfect blend of security
and insecurity,” Bahadur said. “There weren’t other
armed gangs to interfere with pirates’
activities, but at the same time security was just lax enough for them to
operate.”
The situation has grown more complicated over the past
year, with Somalia taking baby steps to cobble together a new government after
two decades of failed statehood. A new administration was put in place in
September. It was not popularly elected; that would be a logistical nightmare
at this point.
Already, the young government is plagued by corruption.
But President Hassan Sheikh Mohamoud has been welcomed into the international
community. Aid flows into the poverty-stricken country are increasing, and,
just this week, the United Nations Security Council voted to partially lift an
arms embargo against Somalia for a trial period of one year. Restrictions on
heavy weaponry are still in place.
Mogadishu’s law-enforcement capabilities -- especially on
the high seas -- remain light. But Mohamoud has taken a symbolic step to combat
the piracy problem. In late February, he released a statement suggesting
amnesty for younger pirates to draw new recruits away from a life of crime.
“It’s kind of symbolic,”
Bahadur said. “But pirates are willing to do it
because they have nothing else to gain. When you’re a pirate making
calculations, the fact that piracy is less profitable has to factor in.”
Walking The Plank
Piracy was once an attractive option for young Somalis
looking for a quick shilling, but it has increasingly lost its luster.
Commercial ships passing through the Bab-el-Mandeb and
Gulf of Aden have responded to increased risks by beefing up their own
security. It’s a simple solution, though not a cheap one. Armed guards were
usually effective deterrents for Somali pirates, who could wait for more
vulnerable prey given the high volume of ships passing through these waters.
But as more vessels began armoring up, the pickings grew
slim.
“Because the commercial vessels started arming themselves
so well, the types of vessels these pirates could get their hands on in late
2011 and 2012 did not belong to owners who were able to afford
multimillion-dollar ransoms,” Mody said.
“The catch was not as rewarding.”
To add insult to injury, commercial vessels are longer
going it alone. Keen to protect the valuable exports and imports passing around
the Horn of Africa, various navies -- representing European Union nations, NATO
countries, and independent states -- swooped in to offer another level of
protection.
Personnel on these ships can be more proactive than crews
on commercial vessels. In international waters, naval forces from around the
world can pursue suspicious skiffs, arrest crew members, and seize equipment.
Feeling more and more tightly squeezed, Somali pirates
realized their market was shrinking, so they decided to raise their prices in
compensation. Scoring millions of dollars, rather than hundreds of thousands,
became the ideal. But that backfired, since demanding higher ransom only drags
out the negotiation process. Pirates thereby incurred extra costs, since they
had to keep seized vessels running and feed their hostages. Profit margins
continued to shrink.
“It has become more difficult for pirates to successfully
hijack ships, and the financiers who put money into these ventures are coming
back with a loss,” Mody said. “That has contributed to a rethink on the part of the pirates
as to whether this business model, which used to be extremely lucrative in the
initial years, is not that lucrative anymore.”
Although Somali piracy is on the decline, it’s not over
yet. Incidents are still occurring in the Horn of Africa and around the world:
So far this year, 44 attacks are on record with the IMB. There are seven
vessels and 113 hostages currently in captivity.
“We’re not there yet,”
Mody said. “We are still advising extreme
caution while going through these areas because there are still sporadic incidents
occurring.”
In Somalia, a long-term solution will depend on peace and
progress. The establishment of a new government marks just one more in a long
line of attempts to establish order in Mogadishu, and it could take years
before the country even has the resources to arrange something as basic as a
general election.
But some areas within Somalia, such as Puntland, offer
signs of hope. Farole, whose familiarity with clan-based politicking has been a
major boon to his administration, has proven his efficacy in tackling the
piracy problem. Under his administration, the Puntland Maritime Police Force,
or PMPF, was deployed in early 2012. While international navies did their part
at sea, PMPF dismantled piracy strongholds on land.
The PMPF, mainly funded by the United Arab Emirates, was
frowned upon by the U.N. due to concerns about a lack of oversight, a risk of
destabilization, and violations of Somalia's arms embargo. Moving forward, it
seems that a Mogadishu-based approach will do more to lend legitimacy to
domestic anti-piracy efforts.
Meanwhile, disillusionment may already be changing
attitudes on the grassroots level.
"“There have been independent efforts in communities
along the Gulf of Aden," Bahadur
said. "The local people chased the pirates
out. I think these communities got a bit irritated about pirates driving up
prices and corrupting local economies, corrupting women and youth, and bringing
in drugs and alcohol."
The scourge won't
end soon, but it's headed in the right direction for now.
These are times of great potential and enormous challenge
for Somalia, which sits at the crossroads of commerce but comes from 20 years
of chaos and failed statehood. Mogadishu is making its way, with help from the
international community, toward a time when growth can begin and a long-divided
country can come together. And that, something all Somalis can take part in,
would be the real buried treasure.
