핵심요약

• 인도 선박은 지정학적 긴장으로 인해 호르무즈 해협에서 75일간 고립되었습니다.
• 선박은 110,000톤의 원유를 선적하고 있었습니다.
• 해상 운송은 지정학적 위험에 매우 취약하며, 이는 에너지 공급망의 불안정성을 야기합니다.
• 긴급 상황 발생 시 해상 운송의 안전성과 보험 비용이 주요 투자 리스크가 됩니다.

도입

본 기사는 국제 해상 운송이 지정학적 갈등에 얼마나 직접적으로 노출되어 있는지 보여주며, 이는 글로벌 에너지 시장과 공급망의 취약성을 투자자들이 재평가해야 함을 의미합니다. 특정 지역의 분쟁이 해협 통과와 같은 핵심 물류 경로에 미치는 즉각적인 영향을 분석함으로써, 지정학적 위험이 실제 경제적 손실과 운영 비용으로 어떻게 전환되는지를 이해하는 것이 중요합니다.

본문 1: 지정학적 위험과 물류 경로의 취약성

선박이 호르무즈 해협에서 75일간 멈춰 있었다는 사실은 국제 해상 운송이 정치적 불안정성에 의해 얼마나 쉽게 중단될 수 있는지를 명확히 보여줍니다. 호르무즈 해협은 세계 주요 에너지 수송로 중 하나로, 이 지역의 긴장 상태는 즉각적으로 운송 비용과 보험료에 영향을 미칩니다. 선장과 승무원이 겪은 고립 경험은 단순한 지연을 넘어, 예측 불가능한 상황에서 생명과 자산의 안전이 위협받는 실질적인 위험을 내포하고 있습니다. 이러한 사례는 해상 무역 경로의 안정성이 글로벌 경제의 근간임을 강조합니다.

본문 2: 에너지 시장 및 보험 리스크의 연쇄 효과

해상 운송의 중단은 단순히 물류 지연으로 끝나지 않고, 에너지 시장 전체에 연쇄적인 충격을 발생시킵니다. 110,000톤의 원유가 운송 중단으로 인해 시장에 풀리지 못하고 정체되면서 유가 변동성에 영향을 미치고, 이는 원자재 가격의 급등으로 이어집니다. 또한, 이러한 위기 상황에서 선박과 화물을 보호하기 위한 보험료는 급증하게 되며, 이는 운송 비용을 더욱 증가시키는 구조적 리스크를 형성합니다. 투자자들은 이러한 지정학적 리스크가 해상 운임(Freight Rates)과 보험료(Insurance Premiums)에 반영되는 방식을 면밀히 분석해야 합니다. 해상 운송 비용의 상승은 최종 소비재 가격에 전가되어 인플레이션 압력으로 작용할 수 있습니다.

본문 3: 공급망 복원력 및 장기적 전망

이러한 사건은 글로벌 공급망의 복원력(Resilience)에 대한 근본적인 질문을 던집니다. 단기적으로는 지정학적 위험에 대한 헤징 전략과 대체 운송 경로 모색이 중요해지지만, 장기적으로는 해상 물류 인프라의 다각화와 지정학적 위험에 대비한 국제 협력 체계 구축이 필수적입니다. 선박 운항의 안정성을 확보하고 예측 불가능한 상황에 대비하기 위해 기술적 개선과 국제 규범의 강화가 요구됩니다. 해상 운송 산업은 지정학적 환경 변화에 민감하게 반응하므로, 투자자들은 이러한 거시적 위험을 고려하여 해운 및 에너지 관련 자산의 장기적인 가치를 평가해야 합니다.

결론

이번 사건은 국제 무역이 지정학적 환경에 얼마나 민감하게 반응하는지를 극명하게 보여줍니다. 해상 운송의 안정성은 단순한 물류 문제를 넘어 글로벌 경제 안정성의 핵심 요소입니다. 향후 투자 관점에서는 지정학적 리스크가 해상 운임과 보험료에 미치는 영향을 지속적으로 모니터링하고, 공급망 다각화에 투자하는 전략이 장기적인 안정성을 확보하는 데 중요할 것으로 전망됩니다. 해운 및 에너지 섹터에 대한 투자 결정 시, 이러한 지정학적 변수를 핵심적으로 반영해야 합니다.

---

원문 링크: https://news.google.com/rss/articles/CBMi9gFBVV95cUxOY3J5dEdXdXRUWVZ2LW1YczlBVXYxNHUycDlTM2dTaXJyVFNvT1huNVlJQXYxNE90TElyMW8wSk5aTjFidEthQmZzdWptclBYUWVlQTZ4UGJ6U3JjLVV1Q1IxZ0FnZGFsRktJRFA1NDBkWjI3cVk0MHE2UmpNcEw1akZFRXRBa0Q5eUNudnlHSFJUc1JqSFZHY3M4dndqVE1VVzEtOHlWZm9NaE52d0x3U0tKSWowemNwMmtvT0gyc2RXRWJCdXRidXVsc0lGaF9FZldnRkltejJZclJmRmpzYzViSHdZdHZaRlZZb2JuNkdfeHhPSmfSAfsBQVVfeXFMT3BkckoxaHNnQWJHZm1QdmNzd29Zd0U3cldoNkpaVzdtVlYzc2xLN1huM29faldVd1FUNEZxYVJ1bk05RE1xWVNSOE9CdDhRcERoTWRLWlI2NzZkRTZZTlloOGN1SFJCal9uUWd1dW9VVWpOUEkzOXVLMnlaRXozUE9aR2lRaTJwOVdsc2xfb191ZTN4UU53WXhxNXBNZjZldjZjWjBIdGc5REo0RE5GWDNRN0R2eGRTVFlvZjB6U3p4V1c2NUFHd0oyTFhyMXFKaDgzZzN3S1JXenFxZDBHUllYRVRva205MmE0TjNrNHlNQ2NwbHdPMlpBbkk?oc=5

Trapped with 23 crew and 110,000 tonnes of oil: Indian captain recounts 75 days stranded in Iran war - economictimes.com

For 75 days, Raman Kapoor, an Indian tanker captain, and his crew were anchored in a war zone with missiles criss-crossing overhead. He writes about the long wait to return home from the Strait of Hormuz.133269762I didn’t get the first warning from an email or a company circular. I got it from the local pilot at an Iraqi port. It was early morning. Cargo ops were done. The pilot was climbing down the ladder when he paused and said quietly, “Captain, there’s troubleTwo hours later the office confirmed it. War had started.I’m a seasoned Indian master of an oil tanker, at sea for over 28 years. We were stranded in the Strait of Hormuz for almost two and a half months due to heightened regional tensions and restricted transit advisories.It’s been a blur, to be honest. February 28 was just another day and then, suddenly, we were in the middle of a war zone. The uncertainty was overwhelming. The first few hours were about trying to understand what was happening and finding a safe place to wait.VACATE THE BERTHThe instructions came fast from port authorities: Vacate berth. Shift to safe anchorage within port limits. Do not proceed out. Await further orders.Immediately I mustered all 23 crew members on the bridge. The youngest was 21. The oldest, our bosun, had 30 years at sea.I broke the war news to them: war is here. We’ll shift to safe anchorage for now. We will follow every instruction. We will stay together. We will get through this.No one asked questions instantly. At sea, you learn to listen first. But later there were loads of questions and concerns. Psychologically, my crew was devastated. 110,000 MT of cargo was still on board. The ship felt heavy.ANCHORED IN A WAR ZONEThe irony is that the work never stops even when the ship isn’t moving. We still did rounds. Still checked tanks, generators, fire systems. Still cooked, cleaned and kept the engine room on standby. Daily life onboard remained almost the same.But the crew remained fearful and under constant stress.Regular meetings, security and safety drills had become routine. Every morning, 0800, security brief. Every afternoon: fire, abandon ship, missile strike! We drilled for things we prayed would never happen.The bridge was manned 24 hours. Not for navigation—we weren’t going anywhere. But for watching. For listening to VHF radio. For counting naval boats circling the anchorage and missiles flying over us.What kept our lives smooth was the inter - net. Unbroken. WhatsApp calls to wives, to mothers, to kids. “We are fine. Don’t worry.” We all said the same line. We all knew it wasn’t true.Morale comes from routine and teamwork.CORRIDOR OF UNCERTAINTYMy crew was under constant stress and devastated. There was no safe way out. No corridor, no escort, no plan.The uncertainty was the worst part—no - body could say if we would be stuck for five days or five months. Prolonged stay meant missing family celebrations, folks panicking at home and young sailors asking if they would make it back at all.You can’t switch off stress. The impact on mental health is severe, with anxiety and de - pression due to extended stay at sea and delayed repatriation.What helped us get through? Two things. First, the crew itself. We became each other’s family. We conducted extra drills to stay focused, held mess-room prayers and took turns talking to the junior guys through night watches. Second, the knowledge that if we stopped, global supply would. That sense of duty kept us going. But while we remained safe at anchorage, we heard several stories that broke us. Seafarers losing their lives on other ships. Crews being disowned by companies. No regular supplies of food and water. No wages for months. No repatriation. Many ships received pressure from owners to sail through the Strait of Hormuz— “Commercial pressure,” they called it. As if cargo was more urgent than life.133270008FEAR HAD A NEW SOUNDAnd then the worst fear manifested. We were at the dinner table when we heard the blast.A dull thud, then a flash on the port side. Close. Very close. Less than a mile away. The whole ship shook. Coffee cups jumped off tables.For a few seconds, which felt like eternity, no one spoke. Then the alarms, the shouting on VHF, naval boats moving….After that day, fear had a new sound. It was the silence between explosions. Over the next weeks we heard hundreds of explosions. We saw missiles flying over our heads. We felt tremors through the hull.Sleepless nights and restless days became part of our lives. Living on the edge with constant fear of life.BREAKING POINTThen came the order we didn’t expect.Office: “Carry out STS operation with another vessel in anchorage.” The whole crew refused.I understood why. The last vessel we had seen attacked was also engaged in a similar ship-to-ship (STS) cargo transfer. No one wanted to be alongside another ship with hoses connected and nowhere to run, should bombs come calling.The office kept instructing. “It’s company interest. It’s urgent.”After many requests, the office ensured our security: naval boat patrolling during operation, standby boat ready and special bonus for all crew.It subsequently went safe and well. Thirty-six hours alongside. Every 15 minutes, we looked up at the sky.By now, exhaustion had set in. The crew was on the edge of mutiny. There were thoughts of resignation, because war wasn’t ending and the crew was not getting a positive response for their repatriation.Back home, our families were under constant stress. There was little they could do except pray.The drills felt pointless. The VHF chatter was just noise. The internet calls home got shorter because what was there to say except “still here”I filed for sign-off every week. “Crew overdue. Request relief.” Reply: “Trying, Captain. No one is willing to join.”Materially, we rationed. Fresh provisions ran low. We stretched fuel, water and medicines because resupply meant sailing through contested waters. The internet was patchy. so families got rumours before they got us.GOOD NEWSFinally, on May 12, good news came. Relief confirmed. I signed off from the ship on May 14.Seventy-five days anchored inside a war zone. I should have felt only happiness. And I did. But I also felt sad for my mates still on ship, still awaiting to go home. Leaving part of your crew behind. You don’t celebrate until everyone’s home. I hugged the chief engineer at the gangway. “You’ll be next,” I told him. I hope I was right.My crew is still stuck. How many others? The world doesn’t know because we don’t report it.My exit can’t be the end of the story. We need a global protocol to get every trapped ship out—not just the lucky few who find a suitable reliever.LOOKING BACKPeople ask me what it was like to command a merchant vessel during war. It wasn’t like in the movies. There was no hero moment. No dramatic escape.It was 75 days of waiting. Of drilling. Of watching the sky. Of making decisions that aren’t in any manual: Do we refuse STS? Do we tell the crew the whole truth? Do we keep going when everyone is tired? We also witnessed violation of ceasefire. And false promises by the company.It showed me how fragile our system is. When the world goes to war, the world still needs oil, food and goods. And someone has to stay with the ship to deliver it. That someone is us: merchant mariners. We are invisible until something goes wrong. Then we are very visible, and very vulnerable.While 90% of global trade moves through water, it is carried by seafarers who are un - armed, unprotected and unheard. We don’t need sympathy. We need safe corridors, real time intel sharing and the right to refuse unsafe passage without losing our jobs.Because we carry your trade. We shouldn’t have to carry this risk alone.We are seafarers, not combatants. Yet, we are caught in the crossfire of geopolitics, our innocence exploited and dignity tested.The international maritime bodies and programmes meant to safeguard our welfare—the International Maritime Organization (IMO), International Transport Workers’ Federation, Ship Inspection Report Programme, Oil Companies International Marine Forum, International Chamber of Shipping, International Convention for the Prevention of Pollution from Ships (MARPOL) and the Port State Control— must act. It’s time for more than empty statements. Protection, support and accountability are owed to each seafarer. The ocean doesn’t discriminate; neither should we.We lost several lives in this conflict. My heart goes out to their families. It’s a bitter truth, the world only notices seafarers when a body comes home.To the companies: Write the safety proto - cols. Make the evacuation plans. Keep exact records. Pay wages on time. And do not ask us to sail when you wouldn’t sail yourself.To the families: Your loved ones are brave. They are tired. They are coming home.To my crew: Thank you. For 75 days. For the support. For the shared meals. For not breaking. For choosing to stay.

Source: https://news.google.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?oc=5