First Published in Sociology, 47(1): 30-50, 2013 doi: 10.1177/00380385112448568

(Editor Note: Due to some slop dished out by WP, we have decided to show a better looking version of this fine article, which first appeared on New Years Day–LS)

Part One

(Another Edit note: The parenthetical material in darker font corresponds with the material above it; “call and response” is the theatrical term.)

It is a global Mariner,

And he stoppeth one of three.

‘By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,

Now wherefore stopp’st thou me?

(A globalised Mariner

meeteth three gallants

outside a shopping centre

and detaineth one.)

‘The centre’s doors are opened wide,

And Bourdieu got it right:

Consumption lends distinction.

So get you out my sight.’

(The Consumer protesteth

against detention outside

the shopping mall.)

He holds him with his glittering eye –

No Big Issue 1 sale is sought,

But fifty yards from B&Q

The would-be Consumer’s caught.

(The Consumer is spell-

bound by the mariner and

constrained to hear his tale.)

So spake the doleful mariner,

Transfixing with his e’e,

In fluent, graphic English –

The language of the sea.

(Proficiency in English is a

requirement of a seafaring

career.)

‘I had no wish to work on ships –

Filipinos know it’s hard –

Mouths were many, jobs were scarce,

From birth my life was marr’d.

(The Mariner telleth of early

hardships and how he and

his parents were cheated by

the maritime colleges and

the crewing agents.)

‘From green island homes we travel,

As mariner, nurse, or maid,

And remit 3 to our loved ones

The pittance we get paid.

‘Father scraped up money

For training college fees –

A scam of the local senator,

Whose throat I’d gladly seize.

(Filipino maritime training

institutions are often

controlled by persons with

powerful political

connections.)

‘The college had no equipment,

Just endless, pointless drill,

No qualifications either –

The news made my father ill.

(The academic training

often follows a military

model and is of poor

quality. And it does not

qualify cadets for

certificates of seafarer

competency without

additional practical

experience – ‘sea time’.

Most colleges fail to

arrange ‘sea time’ for their

cadets.)

‘Course passes gained no certificates,

Without some time at sea.

There was no ship to serve on,

But the senator had his fee.

‘Father paid a crewing agent:

Yet another fee required,

But at least I’d get a berth,

And that’s what we desired.

(Many ship operators out-

source crew recruitment

and employment to

specialist crewing agencies

with offices in the major

labour supply countries.

Cadets graduating from

maritime colleges must

pass a basic safety training

course before they can go

to sea. The courses are

usually conducted at

specialist training

institutions with requisite

equipment such as

lifeboats. State regulatory

agencies inspect the

training institutions to

ensure the requisite

equipment is present, but

not that it is used.)

‘The agent sent me to train then

At a dismal-looking place

More fees and little learned,

Sad repetition of my case.

‘A lifeboat stood on davits,

By a creek filled-up with mud.

“For audit purposes only”,

That pristine lifeboat stood.

‘There’s so many schools for training –

Why’d the agent send me there?

The training was quite useless –

Why didn’t that agent care?

‘It seemed he got a “rebate”

(kickback to you and me)

For every trainee sent there,

A percentage of their fee.

(Corrupt crewing agents NOTE WORK FROM PRINT TO FINISH

distort the seafarer training market)

‘They issued my certificates,

But their paper had a price:

My father’s hard-earned money,

Stolen once, then twice.

‘Ever since it’s been the same:

When I come home from sea,

The agent wants another course,

And I must pay the fee’.

Specialist short courses

must be taken to allow

employment in particular

trades, such as tankers.

Usually, the seafarer must

pay the course fee.

[Enter Chorus of Greek Shippers]

‘O woe to us, and to our ships,

But what are we to do?

The wages they are paying now,

Won’t draw a young Greek crew.

‘So we take these global mariners,

Who’re really up for it,

But they can’t begin to work a ship:

Their training’s frankly s**t!

(Ship operators moan that

international standards of

seafarer training are not

being properly enforced.)

‘Someone, somewhere, should sort it out,

We’ve really had enough:

Inspect and close the colleges,

It’s time for getting tough!’

PART II

Consumer groaned to Mariner:

‘So you each believe the same!

But if all think your training’s s**t

Then, truly, who’s to blame?’

‘Our union said, there is a law –

A real law, no invention –

That lays down training standards,

An international convention.

(The Mariner relateth that

there are international

standards on seafarer

training.)

‘Government should enforce it,

End the bribing and the feigning,

Close-down the useless paper-mills

And give us decent training’.

(But these international

standards rely on national

enforcement.)

‘Yes, yes’, the Chorus chorused,

‘Our ships need well-trained crew.’

‘So what went wrong?’ Consumer asked,

But the Mariner hardly knew.

‘There are no simple answers,’

Voice grated, knife on rock,

‘The true path’s no open highway,

Good governance no wind-up clock.’

A gaunt figure stepped among them:

He gave each a piercing look.

His boots were worn, his cloak was stained,

And he bore a calf-bound book.

‘Who art thou?’ they cried in wonder,

‘And what thing’s your burden there?’

‘I’m the Inspector,’ spake the stranger,

‘And the Law’s my burden fair.’

(An Inspector calls.)

The Chorus shrank and muttered,

The Mariner downed his e’e.

‘I’ve heard tell of you,’ he whispered,

‘As have all who sail the sea.

‘You come aboard, unheralded,

You seek out the rusting hulks:

You cow the cruel masters,

Ships’ agents get the sulks.’

Consumer viewed Inspector,

Eyes lit with wild surmise:

‘It’s up to you to punish,

Right wrongs, and nail their lies?’

‘In truth, that is my duty –

The goal for all my kind –

But the journey is a long one,

And the road’s not paved, nor signed.

‘Those who inspect the colleges

In each poor country of the Earth:

They’re government employees

And are not paid their worth.

‘The owner is a man of power,

The inspector – he is not,

The one dines in his castle,

The other in his cot.

‘The inspector has a check-list,

To work through, line by line.

If a lifeboat’s at the college,

Then it gets a tick – that’s fine.

‘We know it can’t be launched:

It’s to be ticked, naught more.

Poor men must heed the letter,

Not the substance, of the law.’

(The Inspector concurreth

with the mere lip-service

maritime colleges pay to

international training

regulations, but believeth

that the local inspectors are

powerless to obtain fuller

compliance.)

The mariner had silent stood,

Hands clenched and visage pale,

Eyeing the Inspector,

As he ground out his tale.

‘I thank you’, cried the mariner,

‘Now I know the bitter worst:

No remedy in law books –

My mates and I are cursed.’

The Greeks had been quite nervous

While yet the Inspector spoke,

But confidently dealt with

The Mariner and such-like folk:

‘Don’t blame the law, nor malice,

Nor trade that’s getting slack,

Global economic forces

Stapped these burdens to your back

‘Colleges could train you better –

With lifeboats working too –

But higher costs would close ‘em down,

Then where’d we find a crew?’

(The ship operators see

poor-quality training as an

economic consequence of

the seafarers’ need for

cheap training.)

The Inspector laughed most harshly,

And turned to face the Greeks:

‘He who looks for truth

Must beware of that he seeks.

‘Good training’s too expensive:

The poor can’t pay the fee.

You state the matter clearly,

And I cannot but agree.

‘Yet I can well remember

When companies paid the fees,

Time-Past – they paid for training,

Invested in their employees.

(The Inspector recalleth that

40 years ago, it was

commonplace for ship

operators to pay for

seafarer training through

cadetships and

apprenticeships.)

‘You complain of training standards,

Cackling like geese

You want action to be taken,

But you don’t pay a penny piece.

‘It seems to me, hypocrisy,

When the poor turn-out their pockets,

To criticize their training,

While adding up your profits.’

PART III

The Chorus blushed and shuffled,

But still they stood their ground.

They’d got their MBAs,

They knew their case was sound:

‘You’re talking of the past,

Dim, distant days of yore,

We don’t train our seafarers –

We don’t employ ‘em any more!’

Consumer quizzed the Chorus:

‘You don’t employ your crew??’ –

‘Our labour’s all outsourced,

‘The late-modern thing to do.

(The Chorus confirmeth the

Mariner’s tale that crewing

agencies, not ship

operators, employ

seafarers. Agencies then

contract with operators to

supply crews with the

requisite qualifications.)

‘If a shipper paid for training,

He’d have an extra cost,

He’d be under-cut by others –

His business would be lost.

‘Pay for training? Better wages??

Remember shipping’s quite anarchic:

We’d love to be more generous

But you cannot buck the market.’

The Inspector gave a mirthless smile:

‘The market’s always cited

As a sovereign power and reason

Why wrongs cannot be righted.

‘But the remedy is simple here:

The flag-State of every nation

Shall charge a levy on each ship,

Paid at each ship’s registration.

(The Inspector proposeth a

training levy to be paid

when each ship is

registered by the flag-State.

See Afterword.)

‘The levy would pay all training costs,

A burden shared without distortion.

It would pay for good inspections too –

No need for doubts or caution.’

The Mariner did slowly nod:

‘The scheme would work – I see –

My last ship flew Mongolia’s flag,

For a three-thousand-dollar fee.’

Although Mongolia is 850

miles from the sea, the

Mongolian People’s

Revolutionary Party

granted a license in 2003,

to a Mr Chong Kov Sen, a

Singaporean businessman,

to operate the Mongolian

Ship Registry. Mr Chong

previously operated the

Cambodia Registry under

license until 2002, when

the license was withdrawn

following international

protests at Cambodia’s

failure to police its ships. In

2008, 73 ships were flying

the Mongolian flag.

‘Mongolia?’ quizzed our Consumer,

‘That’s surely rather queer?’

‘Not really’, saith the Inspector,

‘Some think a proper flag too dear.

‘Each ship is like a piece

Of far-off, sovereign soil –

Its flag denotes allegiance,

Republican or royal.

‘The flag-State has a duty,

Be the country rich or poor,

To check each ship is ship-shape –

As laid down in the law.

‘But flags can be commodities,

And flags can be for rent,

To businessmen and lawyers,

Who’re out on profit bent.

‘When ships are policed badly,

Their seafarers should beware.

Policing ships for profit

Is a mighty strange affair.

‘Some run their business well,

Some run it as a racket,

With only one objective:

To make themselves a packet.

An OECD report states that

‘a significant percentage of

total vessel operating costs

could be saved by sub-

standard operations’

(OECD 1996: 27).

‘Now, compliance is expensive,

So compliance is a sham

When the flag a shipper flies

Really doesn’t give a damn.

‘A shipper heeds his costs,

A shipper looks to save,

But if he flies a cut-price flag,

Consequences can be grave.

‘Ships that fly a proper flag,

And meet their obligations,

Incur much extra cost

To comply with regulations.

(Thomas Gresham, a

sixteenth-century

Chancellor of the

Exchequer, found it was

impossible to improve the

quality of the English

coinage, by simply issuing

good quality coins. People

hoarded the good coinage.

So it was necessary to also

withdraw the clipped and

debased coins from

circulation. Hence

Gresham’s Law: ‘Bad

money drives out good’.)

‘If they wanted well-found ships,

And skilled, contented crews,

They should have thought to ask us,

Or given us some clues.

‘Truth is: they don’t want “good,”

Or freight rates getting steep.

We skimp, they save –

Truth is: they’re wanting “cheap.”

The Inspector sighed in turn,

‘Some charterers do care,

Oil majors first and foremost,

Others – rather rare.

The Oil Companies

International Marine Forum

(OCIMF) has set up and

funded its own private

inspectorate, SIRE, to

ensure the seaworthiness of

tankers under charter.

Those tankers deemed

satisfactory on inspection

can expect more business

and better terms from the

oil majors, eager to avoid

the bad publicity of marine

pollution incidents.)

‘Oil majors don’t like bad headlines

When tankers hit the rocks

And oil pollutes the beaches

Because the ships are crocks.

‘The public doesn’t like to see

Seabirds black with oil;

Alas, for all the tanker crews,

The public doesn’t care at all.

‘So the tankers get inspected

With much resource and care,

But the crews of all the rest

Make do with me…and prayer.’

PART IV

The Mariner then spoke up:

‘Christian, Buddhist, Hindu, Turk,

Many pray who sail the seas,

But their prayers concern their work.

‘We do not fear a foundering –

Hull pierced, stove in, or rent.

Such a thing may happen,

But it’s a very rare event.

‘Pirates may seize the ship,

And hold us on foreign soil,

But what we fear most is different:

It’s the endless, grinding toil.

‘Each and every ship we join,

Seems there’s fewer crew,

An officer gone, a rating gone,

But there’s still their jobs to do.

(Increasingly, ship operators

have been seeking to save

crewing costs by reducing

the number of watch-

keeping officers. Where

second officers have been

dispensed with, then

watches must alternate

between the master and the

first officer (mate),

although each of them has

many other duties to

perform. An OECD

(2001a) report instances a

saving of $37,000 pa by

under-manning a 20-year-

old 30,000 dwt bulk carrier

by two crew.)

‘The master now must take a watch,

Though there’s paperwork aplenty.

So many crew have disappeared,

The vessel’s almost empty.

‘The master’s nodding on the bridge,

His tired eyes are red.

He’s still to call Head Office,

Before he gets to bed.

‘The mate then takes a watch,

Though it’s two days since he slept –

Problems with the cargo –

But his watch must still be kept

‘The master’s nodding on the bridge,

His tired eyes are red.

He’s still to call Head Office,

Before he gets to bed.

‘The mate then takes a watch,

Though it’s two days since he slept –

Problems with the cargo –

But his watch must be kept

‘Turnabout, the two must watch,

There is no other way,

Six hours on, six off,

Twelve hours in every day.

‘In sickness and in health,

Each watch they duly take,

Dog-tired, red-eyed, grey-faced,

Four months, four months, without a break.

‘No gentle couch our cabin:

The ship is pitching in the waves,

There’s engine noise, vibration,

Yet we sleep the sleep of babes.

‘Too soon, too soon we’re wakened,

We scarcely catch our breath.

An ignoble thing, this tiredness –

As if we slowly bleed to death.’

Part V

As ever when the Mariner spoke,

The Greeks did swell with pride:

‘There is no law that’s broken there,

There’s nothing for us to hide.’

‘You surely lie,’ Consumer cried,

‘I know little of the sea,

But to have a master standing watch –

That’s folly, plain to me.’

The grim inspector then did speak:

‘In truth, they break no law.

The law itself is here at fault –

Therein we find the flaw.

‘The law on Minimum Manning

Lays down for every ship

The crew that must be carried

On each and every trip.

‘What is the minimum manning?

This is what we’re taught:

It’s the smallest competent crew

To bring a stricken vessel safe to port.

(In fact the maximum

number of daily hours of

work for watch-keepers is

specified by the IMO as 14

hours, and the maximum

number of weekly hours is

91.)

‘To make that stricken vessel safe,

Huge effort they’ll expend,

Yet must they slave thus daily?

Til their contract’s at an end?’

Consumer scratched his head:

‘If some members of the crew

Exceed twelve hours each day,

Surely that’s illegal too?’

‘We falsify our working hours’,

Replied the old seadog,

‘To keep the owners happy,

Each day, we flog the log.’

(Falsification of working

hours is so widespread in

the industry that it has

entered everyday slang as

‘flogging the log.’)

‘Then change the minimum manning law –

No more idle chatter –

Require crews to be larger,

It seems a simple matter.’

(Consumer doth not

understand why the flag-

States at IMO do not

change the international

legislation to provide

adequate crewing numbers,

allowing shorter hours.)

The mariner sighed and shrugged.

The Inspector took-up the tale:

‘Flag-States must vote the change,

Or else the measure fails.

‘Flag-States that exist for profit,

And take the operators’ gold,

They can’t increase the crewing costs –

They’ve reputations to uphold.

‘The flag with the greatest tonnage

Flies o’er the Panama Isthmus,

When Panama votes for change,

Then turkeys’ll vote for Christmas.’

Part VI

[All in chorus: …]

‘So come all you kind consumers,

Who the honey’d wine have sipped,

Take pity on the mariner,

Beware how your goods are shipped.

(It is suggested that public

concern for seafarers’

welfare might act in the

same way as public concern

about marine pollution and

be transmitted down the

supply chain from

charterers to ship operators.

Operators who could

‘brand’ their vessels as well

crewed could then

command premium freight

rates.)

‘The crews are outsourced workers,

A study in dejection –

Casualised, long hours, poor training –

And the law is no protection.

‘If charterers thought the public cared

How seafarers are mistreated,

They’d pass the message down the line:

“Our consumers are quite heated.

“It’s bad for our public image,

Like seabirds and pollution,

So get your act together,

And find a true solution.

“We’ll pay your higher freight rates,

If you’ll deploy more crew.

Or we’ll contract your opposition –

See if they know what to do.”

‘So the shippers get the higher rates,

Increase the crews and cut the hours,

Strike the flag of Panama,

And so, at last, they smell of flowers.

‘One day it really just might happen,

A fairy tale come true,

It’s even very possible,

They’d employ and train the crew!’

For an ‘Afterword’ describing in detail the political economy of the global shipping industry, issues of seafarer training, industry regulation and enforcement, please refer to the original publication in the journal ‘Sociology’.

Michael Bloor