Russian super-yachts find safe harbor in Turkish ports

Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has prompted an international hunt for super-yachts owned by Russian oligarchs. In a bid to punish those close to President Vladimir Putin, governments everywhere are seizing vessels and preventing them from leaving port. Everywhere, that is, except in Turkey. Oligarchs with foresight have swiftly moved their luxury toys to the sanction-free Turkish Riviera. Roman Abramovich, a businessman with ties to Putin, was one of the first to do so. Abramovich’s 140-meter-long super-yacht My Solaris entered the port city of Bodrum at the end of March. Eclipse, his 162.5-meter yacht – the second-largest super-yacht in the world with two swimming pools, 18 guest cabins, and a helicopter deck – docked in Marmaris a few weeks later. Clio, the 73-meter vessel owned by the founder of Russian aluminum giant Rusal, Oleg Deripaska, arrived off the coast of Gocek in mid-April. And the US$400 million Flying Fox has been moored in Bodrum since May.  Hosting Russian billionaires is consistent with Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s regional strategy. His foreign minister, Mevlut Cavusoglu, recently commented that “Russian oligarchs could do business in Turkey as long as it was not against international law.” It is Erdogan’s special relationship with Putin that allowed Turkey to host peace talks between Russia and Ukraine back in March. Keeping ports open for Russian super-yachts as the Mediterranean season kicks off is undisputedly a smart move for local economies. But there is an even more pragmatic reason for Turkey to let the yachts sail: Seize-and-freeze campaigns are time-consuming, legally complicated, and potentially costly. The reality is that countries cannot simply take ownership of private property. Even when assets are frozen, oligarchs retain ownership until a court has proved that they were used to commit a crime or harbor illegal activity. As laws vary by country, it is likely that these proceedings will take years. How courts might tie oligarchs’ vessels to a crime is unclear. Super-yachts are typically owned and managed by third parties; such is the case for Scheherazade, which carries a Cayman Islands flag, is managed by Imperial Yachts out of Monaco, and whose owner is undisclosed.  Most seized yachts are a financial drain on the country doing the seizing, as it is rarely decided beforehand who will pay docking fees, insurance payments, and other expenditures. La Ciotat Shipyards, where Russian state oil company Rosneft CEO Igor Sechin’s Amore Vero is held captive, doesn’t even know where to send its invoices. French authorities have passed on the responsibility to the ship owner, yet nobody has reimbursed the shipyard.  It seems like the outburst of excitement for having captured these super-yachts will surpass the reality of the situation of what to do with them. Why, then, make such a show of seizing the luxury toys in the first place? Forcibly taking oligarchs’ property is an aggressive means of sanctions implementation. In 2021, Russia’s uber-rich owned 9% of the world’s super-yachts, and squeezing the wealthy has been heralded as one way to force Putin’s hand in Ukraine. The only problem is it doesn’t seem to be working. For months yachts and other luxury properties have been seized in Britain, France, Italy, Fiji and beyond, and yet Russia’s brutal campaign in Ukraine continues. Personally, I have a problem with super-yachts in general, and wouldn’t mind seeing all of them idled. For one, they are highly polluting, and owning one in an era when the world is on fire should be outlawed internationally. A super-yacht’s carbon footprint averages 7,020 tons of carbon dioxide per year. Abramovich’s super-yachts produced 22,440 tons of CO2 in 2018 and was responsible for two-thirds of the oil and  gas mogul’s carbon footprint that year, according to an estimate by Forbes.  Yachts are also the epitome of economic inequality. While most of us labor in a figurative raft, the world’s ultra-rich snub their noses from the decks of actual floating cities. To think that the pandemic prompted an increase of 75% in super-yacht sales is alarming. The newest captain is Amazon founder Jeff Bezos, who is set to receive the biggest private yacht ever built – as tall as a 13-story building, it will require the City of Rotterdam to dismantle a historic bridge for it to pass into international waters. In the end, Turkey’s approach may prove prescient. The complications of seizing a yacht are manifold, the costs excessive. While owning a multimillion-dollar toy is environmentally and socially dubious, commandeering them to change Putin’s behavior is a policy that is clearly sinking. This article was provided by Syndication Bureau, which holds copyright.

Russian super-yachts find safe harbor in Turkish ports

Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has prompted an international hunt for super-yachts owned by Russian oligarchs. In a bid to punish those close to President Vladimir Putin, governments everywhere are seizing vessels and preventing them from leaving port.

Everywhere, that is, except in Turkey.

Oligarchs with foresight have swiftly moved their luxury toys to the sanction-free Turkish Riviera. Roman Abramovich, a businessman with ties to Putin, was one of the first to do so.

Abramovich’s 140-meter-long super-yacht My Solaris entered the port city of Bodrum at the end of March. Eclipse, his 162.5-meter yacht – the second-largest super-yacht in the world with two swimming pools, 18 guest cabins, and a helicopter deck – docked in Marmaris a few weeks later.

Clio, the 73-meter vessel owned by the founder of Russian aluminum giant Rusal, Oleg Deripaska, arrived off the coast of Gocek in mid-April. And the US$400 million Flying Fox has been moored in Bodrum since May. 

Hosting Russian billionaires is consistent with Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s regional strategy. His foreign minister, Mevlut Cavusoglu, recently commented that “Russian oligarchs could do business in Turkey as long as it was not against international law.”

It is Erdogan’s special relationship with Putin that allowed Turkey to host peace talks between Russia and Ukraine back in March. Keeping ports open for Russian super-yachts as the Mediterranean season kicks off is undisputedly a smart move for local economies.

But there is an even more pragmatic reason for Turkey to let the yachts sail: Seize-and-freeze campaigns are time-consuming, legally complicated, and potentially costly.

The reality is that countries cannot simply take ownership of private property. Even when assets are frozen, oligarchs retain ownership until a court has proved that they were used to commit a crime or harbor illegal activity. As laws vary by country, it is likely that these proceedings will take years.

How courts might tie oligarchs’ vessels to a crime is unclear. Super-yachts are typically owned and managed by third parties; such is the case for Scheherazade, which carries a Cayman Islands flag, is managed by Imperial Yachts out of Monaco, and whose owner is undisclosed. 

Most seized yachts are a financial drain on the country doing the seizing, as it is rarely decided beforehand who will pay docking fees, insurance payments, and other expenditures.

La Ciotat Shipyards, where Russian state oil company Rosneft CEO Igor Sechin’s Amore Vero is held captive, doesn’t even know where to send its invoices. French authorities have passed on the responsibility to the ship owner, yet nobody has reimbursed the shipyard. 

It seems like the outburst of excitement for having captured these super-yachts will surpass the reality of the situation of what to do with them. Why, then, make such a show of seizing the luxury toys in the first place?

Forcibly taking oligarchs’ property is an aggressive means of sanctions implementation. In 2021, Russia’s uber-rich owned 9% of the world’s super-yachts, and squeezing the wealthy has been heralded as one way to force Putin’s hand in Ukraine.

The only problem is it doesn’t seem to be working. For months yachts and other luxury properties have been seized in Britain, France, Italy, Fiji and beyond, and yet Russia’s brutal campaign in Ukraine continues.

Personally, I have a problem with super-yachts in general, and wouldn’t mind seeing all of them idled. For one, they are highly polluting, and owning one in an era when the world is on fire should be outlawed internationally.

A super-yacht’s carbon footprint averages 7,020 tons of carbon dioxide per year. Abramovich’s super-yachts produced 22,440 tons of CO2 in 2018 and was responsible for two-thirds of the oil and  gas mogul’s carbon footprint that year, according to an estimate by Forbes. 

Yachts are also the epitome of economic inequality. While most of us labor in a figurative raft, the world’s ultra-rich snub their noses from the decks of actual floating cities. To think that the pandemic prompted an increase of 75% in super-yacht sales is alarming.

The newest captain is Amazon founder Jeff Bezos, who is set to receive the biggest private yacht ever built – as tall as a 13-story building, it will require the City of Rotterdam to dismantle a historic bridge for it to pass into international waters.

In the end, Turkey’s approach may prove prescient. The complications of seizing a yacht are manifold, the costs excessive. While owning a multimillion-dollar toy is environmentally and socially dubious, commandeering them to change Putin’s behavior is a policy that is clearly sinking.

This article was provided by Syndication Bureau, which holds copyright.