By boat through the Strait of Hormuz at war: "Lord, do not suffer, you will see many dolphins"
The future of the war in Iran and of the world is decided in the oil-blue waters of this strategic enclave
Khasab (Oman)The future of the world is being decided these days in the oil-blue waters of Hormuz. The headline is forceful, but it doesn't scare Captain Ibrahim. Business comes before Donald Trump's war. And business is in crisis because of Donald Trump's war.
—Sir, I'll give you a special price for the war. You don't have to worry about anything.
—But is it safe to sail? The strait is blocked and ships have been bombed.
—Sir, no problem. If we don't move away from the coast, there will be no problem.
—But do you have permission to leave?
—Yes, of course. If we don't exceed the limit, there is no problem. Sir, don't worry, you will see many dolphins and you can swim.
Captain Ibrahim prevails in the negotiation, and his ship would be the only tourist vessel to set sail on Friday from the port of Khasab, a fishing town in Oman blessed and cursed by geopolitics, located right in front of the world's most strategic strait, now the epicenter of the third Gulf War, now in decisive moments.
Iran, on the other side of the sea, has blocked the Strait of Hormuz in response to the offensive by the United States and Israel, and war and economic chaos has imploded: some two thousand supertankers are stranded and threatened with bombs if they move. The strait handled 25% of the world's oil trade and 20% of liquefied natural gas. Transit has fallen by 90%. Markets are trembling, the global economy is suffocated, and pressure is mounting on the White House, which is improvising the future of an increasingly dangerous war.
“Do you remember when I gave Iran ten days to accept a deal or open the Strait of Hormuz? Time is running out. There are 48 hours left for hell to take them”, Trump roared this Saturday on X. A hell over Tehran with a hell over the capitals of the Gulf, bombed by the ayatollahs for a month.
Waiting for Monday's hell, on Friday the Strait of Hormuz seems like paradise.
Captain Ibrahim's tourist fishing boat ventures into a beautiful landscape, an arid version of the Norwegian fjords. Blue and turquoise waters coexist with steep white stone mountains and solitary white sand beaches. A group of dolphins approaches the boat to escort us for almost the entire journey. The shiny animals jump, never losing the rhythm of our speed. Perhaps they come from the other side of the war. Perhaps at night they slept under the protection of the ayatollahs. I ask the sailors if on the Iranian coast, just 30 kilometers away, the scene also has this beauty. They say yes, and that Qeshm Island – which is shaped like a shark and which Tehran has already turned into a fortress – is even more beautiful. Captain Ibrahim plays music. An electronic version of Rivers of Babylon is playing, a cheerful song of sad origin; it is based on the 137th Psalm of the Bible, which speaks of the Jewish people exiled in Babylon after the destruction of Jerusalem. Destruction in a loop.
On the horizon, some of the commercial ships waiting for hell or the reopening of Hormuz can be seen. On clear days, the Iranian coast is visible and, for a month now, the black smoke from American and Israeli bombings. It is believed that more than 1,400 people have died in Iran since February 28, the night the war began. We do not know for sure because the regime has cut off connections and does not allow journalists in. An Iranian friend from Barcelona writes to me upon learning that I am a few kilometers from her country. “Send a hug to see if, from where you are, it reaches my parents.” She hasn't received any news for two weeks.
“That ship is military; it belongs to the Omani navy,” another sailor, an immigrant from Bangladesh, told me, who does not want his name written. The Omani warship was the limit.
—What would happen if a ship crossed the limit?
—I wouldn't. The sea is mined.
—But that is not confirmed. It is only Tehran's version. How do you know there are mines?
—The fishermen here say so. They know the sea better than anyone.
If they know this sea so well, the fishermen of Khasab could perhaps help Trump in his “priority” objective of reopening Hormuz.
The Washington government, cornered by initial miscalculations, would be studying directly opposing options. On the one hand, Trump has threatened to consider the war over and abandon Hormuz, and has recommended that Europeans, if they want oil, go and get it, as he doesn't need it. On the other hand, he has insinuated that he is preparing a military operation to unblock the strait. European allies, who have denied support to the Pentagon, insist that both paths are madness and that diplomacy must be pursued. But Tehran, empowered, will not be easily bought: it demands full sovereignty of the passage and the option of a toll of up to two million dollars per tanker.
The United States takes note, continues to deploy troops in the Gulf –is it a warlike bluff?, the world asks–, and videos of soldiers saying goodbye to family at airports are accumulating on United States social media. In the comments, users denounce that the uniformed personnel are being sent to die in the name of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. International analysts have been theorizing for weeks about how a North American assault on Iranian territory could be carried out. Experts agree that the beauty of Hormuz does not help the North Americans: the mountainous beaches favor defense operations and not attack.
Medieval fortresses still visible in Hormuz seem like an uncomfortable reminder of the nature of the human species.
The monarchies want silence
The Greek Theodor Kallifatides wrote that the best thing about traveling by boat is the possibility of slowly assimilating the landscape towards which you are heading. On Friday, returning to Khasab, the landscape was easy to assimilate. The port was full of idle boats, a symptom of a declining economy. The large fishing boats continue to wait: they lack the sea to sail. The tourist boats, waiting: clients from Dubai –only a two-hour drive away– are afraid to come and swim with dolphins. The smugglers, who used to go back and forth from the Iranian coasts to traffic mainly with gasoline, also waiting: crossing into Iranian territory is suicide.
“We can talk about whatever you want, but not about politics”, a man dressed in white dishdasha and a turban told me in the port of Khasab. The response, phrased in other ways, was repeated among the inhabitants of Musandam. Those who dared to break the silence did so to evoke a mantra: “The war will be what God wills it to be”. What the God of Washington –or of Tel Aviv– wills.
The Gulf monarchies are warning the population not to speak publicly about the war. Oman, which mediated until the end to avoid missiles, prohibits the dissemination of information related to the military escalation on the internet and, at the border, forces visitors to sign documentation to this effect. In the United Arab Emirates, neighbors to the south and the country in the region most punished by the ayatollahs, dozens of people have been arrested for posting interceptions of Iranian missiles and drones on Instagram. The great fear is that the impact of the bombs will destroy their reputation as an oasis of security, which had made them, in the eyes of lucrative foreign investments, guarantors of stability and economic prosperity. Now the foundations of the desert tremble.
Amidst so much silence and tremors courtesy of Trumpism, the surest answer is found in the car on the way back, en route to Oman, on the border with the United Arab Emirates, a journey into the future: from the camels, mosques, and ochre villages of Musandam to the Ferraris, luxury, and glass skyscrapers of Dubai. The driver, an Indian who had been living in the Omani monarchy for years, spoke thanks to intimacy.
—Are people worried about the war?
—What happens is not in our hands. Besides, what's the point of worrying? We are human: someday we will all die.
The dolphins of Hormuz, intelligent animals, may think the same. They are also at risk. In the Black Sea, the bombs from another war, that of Russia against Ukraine, have killed up to 50,000, according to various environmental organizations.