Greece currently finds itself caught not between two, but three ongoing theatres of war in its broader neighborhood: the “forgotten” war in Ukraine, Israel’s conflict with Iran’s proxies (Hamas, Hezbollah), and the stand-off between the US and Iran. These act as three interconnected “tectonic plates” driving—as is so often the case—historic shifts in global power. Now that these shifts have become obvious to all, public interest in geopolitics—a discipline largely sidelined since World War II—has surged.
The current geopolitical climate is fraught with upheavals: naval blockades, redrawn borders, and wars on European soil involving superpowers are increasingly viewed as the new normal. Fortunately, bombs are not falling within the European Union (EU). Yet, the European economy—and, by extension, the Greek economy—is taking a severe hit from soaring oil prices, a projected slump in tourism, and looming shortages of key commodity (e.g. fertilizers). Concurrently, the EU’s strategic credibility is once again in freefall. The rhetoric of US President Trump has economic, strategic, and existential ramifications: fresh US tariffs, a drawdown of American troops from the European theater, and renewed waves of migration from the Near and Middle East. Given that the Greek merchant navy leads the world—controlling 20% to 21% of global fleet capacity and 60% of the EU fleet—any disruption to the transport of goods, its core function, could force operators to either assume unsustainable risks or face days of forced idleness, resulting in substantial financial losses.
Greek shipping is bearing the brunt of the blockade at the Strait of Hormuz, through which 25% of the world’s seaborne oil trade and nearly 20% of its liquefied natural gas (LNG) is routed. The enduring myth that Greek-owned vessels invariably strike it rich during wartime may hold true for a daring subset of tankers willing to run blockades, and take on the massive risks that entails. However, the vast majority of tankers and LNG carriers which are reluctant to take such a gamble—along with various other classes of ships—are left at a distinct disadvantage.
The closure of the Strait of Hormuz exacerbates underlying vulnerabilities the shipping industry was already grappling with. Previously, these issues were muffled by booming demand from China and other emerging markets (e.g. India), as well as by the viability of alternative chokepoints (such as the Strait of Malacca, or routing via the Cape of Good Hope rather than the Suez Canal). Passing these added costs on to the consumer temporarily papered over the cracks. Ultimately, however, there was no hiding the mounting delivery delays or the urgent need to beef up vessel security and insurance—factors that drove up baseline costs. Sourcing crews was already a major headache, but the conflict in Iran has escalated it into a critical challenge; even if a vessel secures the requisite transit permits, with or without paying tolls, manning and crew rotations have become virtually impossible under conditions that are anything but ordinary.
Another immediate side effect of the war in Iran is the slump in demand, which is stoking stagflation across the West. The transport of oil and LNG is being dramatically impacted by, for example, the reduction in commercial flights, even if shortages in crude and liquefied natural gas are being temporarily offset by alternative sources (such as Russia or the United Arab Emirates). The indirect consequences are equally profound. The fracturing of supply chains, with everyday goods no longer available in abundance, will trigger a retreat in investment and refinancing hurdles, alongside squeezed profit margins. The crises encircling the shipping industry are deeply intertwined: following the initial economic “shock,” the crisis is morphing into a multifaceted energy, insurance, commercial, financial, operational, and ultimately, geopolitical issue.
For now, there are no stark strategic dilemmas on the table. Simply put, Greek shipping (and the Greek state) does not need to pick a side–yet. However, this could change in the future as geopolitical momentum builds and at least one superpower—if not all three—seeks to capitalize on it. There are two potential fault lines rooted in recent history. First, the US-China rivalry, irrespective of which political party occupies the White House. Second, the crisis of the global liberal order. China remains America’s primary headache, and US initiatives in 2026 (spanning Venezuela, Greenland, and Iran) are aimed at decelerating Chinese growth while simultaneously accelerating America’s own (particularly in microchips, data centers, and artificial intelligence). Nevertheless, a medium-term rupture in Western trade with China is not on the horizon, given the massive export and import exposure of Western firms to the Chinese market, nor is a slowdown in shipbuilding anticipated. In the long run, the objective is to de-risk this exposure and pivot supply chains toward the West or alternative Asian hubs (such as India, South Korea, and/or Malaysia). On the flip side, the international liberal order is being battered by the widening rift between the US and the EU—a fracture that began with Ukraine and is manifesting in myriad ways: US friction with key EU member states (including France and Germany), Trump’s threats to pull the US out of NATO, and so on. These undercurrents will inevitably reshape global trade routes and, by extension, Greek-owned shipping. The “green” energy transition will also take a hit. Here, the shipping industry will act as a brake on the unrealistic timeline target (2030-2050).
Consequently, geopolitics will increasingly be exercised through shipping, while the shipping industry itself will require geopolitical foresight more than ever before.
Konstantina E. Botsiou is Professor of History and International Relations at the University of Piraeus and General Director of the Council for International Relations – Greece (CfIR-GR).
