Nournews: Daily earnings for very large crude carriers (VLCCs) on the benchmark Middle East-to-China route have climbed to around $800,000, with some reports putting the figure above $860,000. The historic record sends a clear message to the market: the risk surrounding the Strait of Hormuz is no longer merely a military risk; it has become a significant economic cost.
When chartering a giant oil tanker for a single day costs such an extraordinary amount, it shows that the market is pricing in a combination of risks—from the sharp decline in traffic through Hormuz and uncertainty over the security of the route to higher insurance costs and a shortage of effective fleet capacity. In other words, as enforcing the blockade becomes more costly, part of that burden is shifting from the military theater to international markets.
But the central question is: Who is paying the price for this situation?
That question turns Hormuz from a purely maritime issue into one of the most important arenas of a “war of resilience.”
The United States entered the war with an assumption of military superiority, believing that its firepower and technological advantage could force Iran to retreat and surrender outright within a short period of time. But as the war continued, the equation changed. Military power itself became a cost: ammunition was consumed, equipment was destroyed or damaged, dozens of American troops were killed or wounded, while others—similar to what happened aboard the aircraft carrier USS Abraham Lincoln—suffered psychological problems and mental exhaustion. The entire military supply chain also came under severe pressure because the war was not expected to last this long.
A report by the U.S. Department of War’s inspector general estimated the direct cost of the war at around $33.4 billion through the end of June, while also pointing to ammunition shortages and supply-chain bottlenecks. That figure, however, does not represent the full cost of the war. The cost of replacing ammunition and equipment, repairs, troop deployments, equipment wear and tear, and the opportunity cost of maintaining a military presence in the region are only some of the expenses that are not necessarily reflected in official figures.
This is where America’s first paradox emerges: the tool that was supposed to shorten the war by breaking Iran’s resilience is instead consuming a significant portion of America’s own resilience capacity.
After failing to achieve its political objectives through military means, Trump turned to another tool that he believed would be less costly and more effective: a blockade.
The logic was straightforward: if military pressure had failed to force Iran into submission while imposing substantial reciprocal costs on the United States, pressure on oil exports and maritime routes could increase the cost of continued resistance for Iran without necessarily triggering a comparable response against the United States.
But here too, Iran did not remain merely on the defensive. By employing what it considered smart and innovative measures, Tehran presented Washington’s initial calculations with serious challenges similar to those it had faced in the military theater.
Tehran’s new strategy can be summed up in one phrase: “blockading the blockade.”
This strategy does not necessarily mean directly confronting every ship militarily. By placing vessels on a restrictions list and imposing measures against them, Iran has transferred the risk across a broader chain: the vessel, its owner, flag state, insurer, P&I provider, classification society and port.
Recent reports indicate that dozens of vessels have been placed on Iran’s restrictions list. Alongside warnings to insurance companies and entities involved in shipping, the move carries a meaning different from that of a purely military threat. The objective is to increase the cost and decision-making risk for the network seeking to transit the Strait of Hormuz.
This is where an important asymmetry has emerged.
For the United States to impose and maintain a blockade, it needs warships, aircraft, refueling tankers, air defenses, surveillance capabilities, ammunition, personnel and logistics. For Washington, the blockade is a continuous military operation, and every additional day creates enormous new costs.
Iran, by contrast, does not necessarily need to spend heavily to make the blockade more costly. If a vessel faces the risk of seizure, insurance complications or restrictions on port services after being placed on a restrictions list, part of the cost of Iran’s policy is shifted from the military budget to the balance sheets of the vessel owner, insurer and shipping company, effectively raising the cost burden across international markets.
The issue, therefore, is no longer simply whether the Strait of Hormuz is “open or closed.” The more important question is the cost of transiting Hormuz.
The record VLCC rates should also be viewed from this perspective. When the cost of chartering an oil tanker rises to hundreds of thousands of dollars per day, the market is effectively calculating the price of risk. Ultimately, that cost does not remain confined to the balance sheets of shipping companies; it feeds into oil and petroleum-product prices and, consequently, into a broader increase in energy-related costs around the world.
And this is where the next link in the chain begins: the United States.
Higher oil-supply risks push up shipping costs, putting pressure on oil prices and refined products. Diesel is particularly important in this equation because it is not merely a fuel for vehicles. Trucks, agriculture, industry, rail transportation and a large part of the goods-distribution chain all depend on it.
As a result, higher diesel prices can quickly move from the fuel pump into the prices of goods and services.
This is the point at which the war of resilience moves from the military theater into the everyday lives of Americans.
If higher energy prices persist, inflationary pressures could also become more entrenched. Higher inflation would constrain the Federal Reserve’s ability to cut interest rates, while elevated rates would increase the cost of financing for the U.S. government—at a time when Washington is already dealing with a large budget deficit and the costs of war.
Meanwhile, the Treasury market becomes the next critical link in the chain.
Higher inflation expectations and persistently elevated interest rates could keep bond yields high. Higher yields mean higher borrowing costs for the government, while also putting greater pressure on the cost of capital across the economy. If that pressure spills over into the stock market—as signs of this are already emerging—a maritime shock in Hormuz could turn into an issue at the heart of U.S. financial markets.
For this reason, the emergence of a “Black September” in the U.S. economy, which many experts consider a possibility, should not be understood merely as a sudden market crash. Black September could mean several pressures converging at the same time: expensive energy, inflation, a stressed Treasury market, a fragile stock market and mounting cost-of-living pressures on voters.
And this is where U.S. elections enter the equation.
A war whose costs were supposed to be imposed on Iran could, if it leads to a higher cost of living in the United States, cease to be merely a foreign-policy issue and become an electoral issue.
Trump is therefore facing a second paradox, in addition to the first one confronting him on the battlefield and in the limitations on the use of military power.
If he maintains the blockade, he must bear its heavy military and logistical costs while simultaneously facing the domestic consequences of increased energy risks and inflationary pressure in the United States.
If he eases the blockade, Iran gains greater room to impose further restrictions in Hormuz and implement its strategy of “blockading the blockade.”
The issue, therefore, is no longer simply whether the United States has the capability to impose a blockade. The real question is whether it can afford the cost of maintaining it—and withstand its potentially destabilizing effects on the domestic environment.
This is where Trump’s second paradox takes shape: the blockade was supposed to be a tool for pressuring Iran’s resilience, but if the cost of enforcing it and its economic consequences continue to rise, it could itself become a test of American resilience.
Under such circumstances, Iran does not necessarily need to match the United States in military spending to counter American power. It only needs to shift the cost-to-effectiveness ratio in its own favor.
The United States must spend money to maintain the blockade; Iran is seeking to push the cost of the blockade back onto the blockading power.
From this perspective, an $800,000-a-day tanker is more than just a record in the shipping market; it is a sign that the battlefield is shifting. The war is moving from missiles and warships to insurance, shipping, energy, inflation, Treasury bonds and, ultimately, the ballot box.
And perhaps the most important question in this war of resilience is this:
Which side can withstand greater pressure for a longer period of time—the side that pays to exert the pressure, or the side that seeks to push the cost of that pressure back onto its opponent?
Nournews